Mid-1947 to mid-1948 is a key moment for women in Ealing
films: the consecutive release of The
Loves of Joanna Godden (June 1947), Frieda
(July 1947), and It Always Rains on
Sunday (November 1947), was followed by Simone Signoret in Against the Wind (February 1948) and Joan
Greenwood in Saraband for Dead Lovers
(September 1948) – there might even be an argument for Moira Lister’s strong
performance in Another Shore (November
1948) extending that list out a bit further, but even without it, that is an
impressive range of films, all featuring central female characters around whom
the narrative revolves, and who remain three-dimensional and proactive
throughout. In almost all those examples, male characters are secondary, behind
two or three central women.
It Always Rains on
Sunday, Googie Withers’ last film with Ealing, has tended to get the most
focus of that list, partly due to Googie’s star status, but also because it is
a taut and compelling crime thriller that can been linked to late Ealing films
(The Blue Lamp (1950) and Pool of London (1951) share crucial DNA with
its plot and shooting style). Googie plays Rose Sandigate, a married woman
whose life is turned upside down when her old lover (and escaped convict) Tommy
Swann (John McCallum) turns up at her home, looking for food and shelter. Yet
given the prominence of Googie in discussions of this film, it is actually – as
the trailer gleefully exclaims – a ‘symphony of London’s East End’ that exposes
‘the secrets of a street you know!’ Essentially then, this is a character-driven
piece set in and around a small community in Bethnal Green that harks back as
much to Saloon Bar (1940) as it pre-empts
Passport to Pimlico (1949).
Googie’s performance as Rose does hold the bulk of the
film together: she once flirted with the bad boys like Tommy but ended up
settling down with reliable George Sandigate (Edward Chapman), his daughters Doris
(Patricia Plunkett) and Vi (Susan Shaw), and Rose and George’s son Alfie (David
Lines). It is to the Sandigate house that Tommy arrives, but trouble is already
brewing among the Sandigate women: Vi is having an affair with married shop
owner and saxophonist Morry Hyams, while Morry’s brother Lou (John Slater) is
eyeing up Doris for a (possibly disreputable) job in a West End club, much to
the disgust of Doris’ mechanic boyfriend Ted Edwards (Nigel Stock). Yet the
film’s symphony and interconnected nature doesn’t stop there: Whitey (Jimmy
Hanley), Freddie (John Carol) and Dicey Perkins (Alfie Bass) are inept crooks
whose last job left them with cases of rollerskates that they are desperate to
sell on – but Morry or Lou can’t help them, local cops Fothergill (Jack Warner)
and Leech (Frederick Piper) are already suspicious.
That description only begins to cover the various narrative
crossovers and coincidences that the film weaves through, but it does so with great
verve and confidence, never settling too long on one story or character, and
always returning to its central drama of Rose and Tommy. The script – by Angus
Macphail, Robert Hamer and Henry Cornelius – never flags, and paints compelling
portraits of even the smallest characters (Vida Hope only appears in one scene,
but her venom towards ex-boyfriend Tommy sheds light on her stall holder
character, and on him; equally Edie Martin as a friendly neighbour adds nice tension
to Rose’s day). The script isn’t quite able to resolve all the storylines – partial
solutions are given, yet the fate of all the Sandigate women feels in flux at
the end – but presents a coherent slice of these different lives.
Given this large cast, the film is still full of nice
visual throwaway touches and character moments: Rose freezing when she suspects
George is going out to the bomb shelter where Tommy is hiding, only for George
to chuck the roll of blackout material in without looking; Doris’ skill at the
mechanical arm game in the arcade; Tommy hiding behind the kitchen door while
Doris searches round the kitchen; the blind trumpeter begging outside the Two
Compasses pub recognising Lou; almost all of Warner’s scenes chatting to
various crooks and criminals; Rose realising Tommy doesn’t recognise the ring
she gives him to pawn; the infamous dress-ripping scene, where Rose rips Vi’s
new dress, only for Vi to then tear the rest open. In fact, the relationship between
Rose, Vi and Doris is almost as important as that with Tommy: in one sense, as
Barr suggests, blonde Vi seems to represent Rose’s older, more sexualised and
reckless ways (with Tommy, when she was blonde) while brunette Doris is more
similar to the older, brunette and reliable Rose who married George.
The film is also strong visually and uses the script’s 24-hour
structure to provide visual balance: the opening image of the street in the
early morning (as Vi arrives home) is matched by a shots 24 hours later, as
George arrives back. The film moves from the emptiness of the opening shots,
through to a moving camera that tracks above the crowded market scenes, before
coming back to deserted night-time streets for the final chase scene; we see
political marchers heading out to Hyde Park for the day, and then trudging back
later in the afternoon; all these repetitions or mirroring of action gives the often
disparate sections of the story added structure. And the final ten minutes of
the film, an action-packed chase through the deserted wet streets of Bethnal
Green, is visually striking while also crossing over with elements from
throughout the narrative: after leaving Rose’s, Tommy steals Lou’s car, takes
Whitey’s money, and is pursued throughout by Fothergill and Leech. The chase ends
at that most Ealing (and British) of locations: a train yard, late at night,
full of shadows and harsh spotlights, cut-up into strong horizontal and
diagonal lines by the metallic tracks, all gleaming with recently fallen rain, and
filtered through lingering steam and
smoke.
While the denouement – George accepts Rose’s explanation
and condones her past – is a little pat and patriarchal, that (as in The Loves of Joanna Godden) doesn’t take
away from the strong performance Googie gives throughout, or the varied range
of female roles the film creates and develops.
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