For Those in Peril is
a perfect example of the story-documentary approach begun in the British
documentary groups, and developed through Ealing projects such as San Demetrio, London (1943) or Convoy (1940). Here, the film uses
strong documentary filming techniques around life at port and on Air-Sea Rescue
launch 183, and balances that with character-based work that explores the
relationship between Flight Lt. Murray (David Farrar) and new officer Rawlings
(Ralph Michael), who is vocal in his dislike of his new role in the Air-Sea
Rescue unit (Rawlings believes he should be flying planes for the air force, making
a ‘real’ difference rather than messing around in boats).
In the first half of the film, we see Murray and his men
working and playing together, setting up a cohesive team – and one that is less
tradition-based, less stuffy about the kind of pomp they see in their Navy colleagues
(although this quickly becomes togetherness and ‘good old navy’ when they need
help from the bigger ships). So, the crew of launch 183 play snooker and darts,
sing on board the boat, eat sandwiches, joke about different ways to cook spam,
and drink tea together, all under the watchful eye of a stern but amused Murray.
Rawlings is a tense and cynical addition for much of the film, learning the
ropes but unhappy with his lot. When the launch is caught in a firefight with a
German ship and aircraft, Murray is killed, and it is up to Rawlings to take
charge of this team and prove himself.
The story, then, is another exercise in male camaraderie
and teamwork, largely based around officers, but also drawing in the lower
decks through characters like Wilkes (John Slater) and Griffiths (Robert
Griffith). The film’s style is a curious mix of verisimilitude (featuring a lot
of filming on real ships and launches, combining Slocombe’s documentary
heritage with the participation of the Admiralty and Navy in filming), solid
performances from Farrar and Michael, and occasionally jarring process work
placing those actors against violent sea-faring backdrops. When the film works –
such as tense sequences where a rescue plane touches down in a minefield, or where
the launch tries to manoeuvre out of the same minefield – it is compelling; but
the battle with the German ship is less convincing, and the effects work on
some of the aerial dogfights is more jarring.
George Perry believed this was the closest Charles
Crichton ever got to ‘documentary realism during his long Ealing career’ (76)
but the film might be a stronger evocation of Douglas Slocombe’s cinematography
than Crichton’s directorial touch. Slocombe had come to Ealing through wartime documentary
experience, employed by the Ministry of Information to ‘shoot propaganda footage
on destroyers and convoys’ – as Ealing produced many of those films, they gradually
assimilated him into the studio, and he became a fully-fledged member of the
main studio team by the end of the war. (Pavlus 2002, 90) Along with
Cavalcanti, Slocombe was crucial in Ealing developing the blend of documentary
footage and studio-produced drama that is on display here. As in San Demetrio, London, on which she was
also credited, the dramatic pacing of the camerawork and editing is well
supported by sound cutter/editor Mary Habberfield, one of Ealing’s unsung production
heroes through the 1940s.
Perhaps the one uncertainty around this film – which is
otherwise a solid and straightforward piece of drama-doc – is the abrupt way
the film ends. While there is a disparity over length between IMDb (77 minutes)
and the DVD release (64 minutes) there is no evidence of the film being edited
or censored (unlike the The Goose Steps
Out (1943), as discussed a few weeks ago). Instead, there are missed narrative
opportunities to pursue Rawlings’ uncertainty over taking on Murray’s command,
or even a brief exploration of how he deals with a crew more used to Murray’s
leadership style. In place of this, the film cuts from Rawlings taking charge
to him in a pub, several weeks later: a scene that mirrors an earlier one where
Murray introduced Rawlings to the same pub. The message is clear: Rawlings has
learned from Murray and can now comfortably replace him. There is no
psychological need to explore how Rawlings learned this, or if he struggled: it
is wartime, he is British, so it just happened. The propaganda message is
clear: Britain fights on, in whatever job or form it can.
[For Those in Peril
is released on DVD by Studio Canal. See www.studiocanal.co.uk
for more details]
Next time, we head to Wales and enter The Proud Valley (1940)...
The BBFC website records that the film was passed with cuts in 1944, with a runtime of 66 minutes and 51 seconds (http://www.bbfc.co.uk/AFF011519/). Subsequent video releases ran at 64 minutes, which (without doing the calculations) I suspect is due to the different running speed of the media. I wonder if the IMDB runtime is the uncut US runtime.
ReplyDeleteDerek
Derek, thanks for checking that - it is a strange moment in the film, but I think it is intentional rather than censorship. I did wonder if the US release had additional material (as several other British releases of the period had, such as A Canterbury Tale) that 'explained' things for an American audience? If I had time, I would follow that up!
ReplyDelete