Archive for Duncan Macrae

Officer Class

Posted in FILM, MUSIC, Theatre with tags , , , , , , on April 22, 2021 by dcairns

“Come for Guinness, stay for Mills,” Randy Cook had told us — so we did. Ronald Neame’s film of James Kennaway’s play still has a foot in theatre, and might have been more suited to b&w, but Stirling Castle looks attractive, both as a real edifice and a glass painting, and Neame films his actors acting with impressive fluidity and occasional bursts of real dynamism.

The plot deals with a battle for control of a Highland regiment. Mills has survived a Japanese POW camp in the war and his nerves are frazzled: on the surface he’s a martinet but just below that he’s damaged goods. Guinness is a war hero who doesn’t want to give up his acting command and resents any change to the way things have always been done in his time.

Both actors are magnificent — both get to do potentially showy nervous breakdown stuff. Their methods are very nearly opposite, however. Guinness originally had the other role, but swapped and suggested Mills to take his part. He’s very clever, very technical, he DOES a lot. It’s all first-class: his grin, conveying Cheshire-cat self-satisfaction, is at the same time terrifyingly psychopathic. His Scottish accent isn’t 100% convincing — very few were, in former years, but it’s specific and consistent. (Susannah York as his daughter gives her voice just the merest suggestion of a lilt.) You do notice that the actors who can talk in their own voices are able to be more natural, even when they’re also quite BIG (Angus Lennie is very funny; but there’s terrific low-key work from Gordon Jackson and Duncan MacRae).

Mills carries off the honours with a performance of slowly crumbling resolve and shredded nerves that’s just appallingly real. “My jaw is hanging open!” exclaimed Fiona after one close-up. You realise that Neame, never a showy filmmaker, lacking the brilliant flashes of his old chum Lean, was deeply attuned to performance (his partnership with Guinness was no doubt a great learning opportunity), profoundly sensitive to the dramatic values of a scene.

Mills’ breakdown is all performance, carefully observed and truly felt. Guinness’ follow-up show is a march off a cliff with orchestral accompaniment: composer Malcolm KWAI Arnold provides the titular pipe band martial music echoing in the characters’ head and spilling out onto the soundtrack. An expressionist touch that’s properly alarming, as it’s unlike anything else in the film — a highly effective signal that CONTROL IS BEING LOST.

Zeitgeist-based theories of national cinema can get a little spooky, a little superstitious, but I can’t shake the feeling that during and after WWII, and during the mid-sixties to the early seventies, the standard of British filmmaking rose tremendously, influenced by political and cultural events and the activities of certain key artists — so that the kind of filmmakers who would normally have been doing decent, sensitive work started doing GREAT work. Neame’s directing career only got started in ’47 and continued in ’50, so he more or less missed the first burst of energy (but was right in there as producer and cinematographer). And was too old and established by the time the sixties came around. So that I think his directing work, though very fine indeed, doesn’t get animated by the tremendous national enthusiasms that Lean and Powell & Pressburger were at the heart of, and the Boultings and Launder & Gilliatt and others surfed in the forties.

So I feel a sense of “It might have been” with Neame. But he’s really, really good.

TUNES OF GLORY stars Gulley Jimson; Professor Bernard Quatermass; Bertram Tracepurcel; Nellie Goode; Lord Alfred Douglas; Eliza Fraser; MacDonald ‘Intelligence’; Jim MacKenzie, Granddaddy; Grogan and Sgt. Grogan; Scuttling; 3rd Officer – Carpathia; Henry Strangeways; Scarlatti; Col. Etienne Gerard (Hussars of Conflans); Ives ‘The Mole’; Professor Bernard Quatermass; Miss Marple; and Mr. Mackay

Bind fast his corky arms

Posted in FILM, Mythology with tags , , , , , , , , , on February 13, 2012 by dcairns

We’re always looking to share what spambots like to call “great information” here at Shadowplay. Recently, while watching THE BROTHERS (a 1947 British melodrama) with Fiona and Marvelous Mary, I took note of an exciting new way to SLAY YOUR ENEMIES, and I’m passing it on in hopes that it may prove efficacious.

If my instructions aren’t clear, by all means See The Film for a demonstration.

1) Subdue Your Enemy. Any method is allowable, but he ideally should remain conscious or be capable of regaining consciousness with the application of Cold Water (of which much more later).

2) Bind Your Enemy hand and foot, but with Great Quantities of Cork under each arm. Buoyancy is essential to this method of dispatch.

3) Secure via string or twine, a hat to the head of the prospective victim. Secure to the hat or bonnet a large fish. This will henceforth be known as the Fish Hat.

3) Set the unhappy fellow to bobbing in the nearest lake or ocean. You need to be sufficiently close to the sea to allow for Large Sea Birds. Some Large Sea Bird (a goose is fine), espying the glittering Fish Hat, is sure to dive down for a ready meal, and its Mighty Beak will pierce the unhappy fellow’s skull and effect his destruction.

This method has the Great Moral Advantage that you will not be in any way culpable for the demise of your enemy, who will owe his fractured skull solely to the action of the Large Sea Bird. Heaven is satisfied, Nature’s will is done.

THE BROTHERS does feature more of interest than the novel method of murder outlined above — as a rare foray North for the British film industry, it follows in the footsteps of Michael Powell’s THE EDGE OF THE WORLD. Fortunately, Marvelous Mary is pretty expert on the culture and history of the Scottish islands, so she was able to keep us straight on the film’s numerous inaccuracies.  Patricia Roc plays a young girl sent from the orphanage to work as servant in a croft where there is no woman, only two sons and an elderly father. Firstly, no crofter could  afford a servant (unless maybe she’s to be unpaid, an indentured slave, in which case you’d think the film would make this clear), and secondly, there are no Catholics on Skye, and for some reason the islanders are all characterised as Catholic. Maybe the filmmakers felt that was safer, since religion is a pretty ineffectual force in this film, where it’s not positively destructive, so putting the blame on a minority religion was less likely to offend anybody who mattered. In fact, sects like the Wee Frees (the Free Presbyterian Church of Scotland) are as eccentric and intolerant as any branch of Catholicism, so might have served just as well. Certain customs, like taking a newly deceased man’s body on a long haul around the island while the women, forbidden attendance at the funeral, wait at home, are quite accurate to this sect, rather than to Catholicism. Lars Von Trier’s BREAKING THE WAVES gives as accurate a portrait of the austere and loveless feeling of this faith.

The menfolk in Roc’s new household consist of Duncan Macrae (WHISKY GALORE) and Maxwell Reed (the first Mr Joan Collins, whose Scottish accent is little better than his Danish one in DAYBREAK), with the estimable Finlay Currie as patriarch. Roc’s supposed sex appeal soon leads the family to infighting and injury by heart attack and conger eel. It’s hard to understand, although the filmmakers supply their demure actress with an unlikely low-cut wardrobe and a nude swim (in extreme long-shot, but still quite an eye-opener for 1947!). Roc declined a body double (or else wasn’t offered) and treated herself to a whisky afterwards.

The film also features Scots comic Will Fyffe, who recounts a tale of the selkie (merfolk who transform from seal to human). He’s a delightful presence, but sadly this was his last movie. After undergoing an operation, he was resting up in a hotel in St Andrews, was overcome by dizziness, and fell out the window.

In spite of its quirky moments and interesting milieu, the film doesn’t quite gel as a story, and Roc does her best but has little of the siren about her. Even a more wide-eyed and innocent effect could have worked. David MacDonald directs rather flatly, but does raise his game for a couple of sinister moments, notably this one, featuring John Laurie, the World’s Most Scottish Man ~

Director David MacDonald, an actual Scot from Helensburgh (Deborah Kerr’s birthplace), reached his apogee with this film, before the disastrous THE BAD LORD BYRON wrecked his career, leading to the Shadowplay favourite DEVIL GIRL FROM MARS

Thanks to Guy Budziak.

The Brothers [DVD] [1947]