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Cause For More Celebration September 4, 2006

Posted by John Hodson in : DVD News & Info, British Film , add a comment

Since my post Cause for Celebration?, the new releases, or re-releases, of British films has never, it seems, ceased. It is either a happy coincidence, or I have influence hitherto thought beyond mere mortal man (or blogger). The former is a safe bet.

The only slightly bad news is the removal from the Network website of their Things to Come SE (which we discovered, thanks to that post, was not to be the work of TLE Films), though it is still available from DD Home Entertainment. Let’s hope it is a temporary setback.

So, newly discovered, at various e-tailers - a David Lean Box Set (coming, we now know, from ITV DVD formerly Granada Ventures), containing The Sound Barrier (1952), Hobsons Choice (1954), Blithe Spirit (1945), Brief Encounter (1945), Great Expectations (1946), Oliver Twist (1948), Madeleine (1950), The Passionate Friends (1949), This Happy Breed (1944), and one would hope, a raft of interesting extra features.

ITV DVD is also behind the new Powell and Pressburger Box - The Tales of Hoffman (1951), Black Narcissus (1946), A Matter of Life & Death (1946), The Life & Death of Colonel Blimp (1943), A Canterbury Tale (1944), I Know Where I am Going (1945), 49th Parallel (1941), The Battle of the River Plate (1956), Ill Met By Moonlight (1957), They’re A Weird Mob (1966), The Red Shoes (1948). It beats the previous Carlton box with the inclusion of the first two named titles, and the new Black Narcissus is truly gorgeous, but at a penny shy of £60, the box will have to be stacked with new extras and, in some cases, new transfers.

Optimum’s re-release of Don’t Look Now is to be a Special Edition; no details, but here’s hoping it is something more than just the previous brief Nic Roeg interview, and that they fix the audio problems evident on the Warners / Studio Canal disc. Also from Optimum is The Ultimate Carry On Box Set (30 Discs), which brings together both previous extras stacked Carlton releases and the Warners / Studio Canal titles, which will now have extra features included. Look out too for a four disc St. Trinians Box Set, and a 12 disc British Comedy Collection Box Set - Porridge (Dir. Dick Clement, 1979), Rising Damp (Dir. Joseph McGrath, 1980), Bless This House (Dir. Gerald Thomas, 1972), Steptoe And Son (Dir. Cliff Owen, 1972), Steptoe And Son Ride Again (Dir. Peter Sykes, 1973), Ooh, You Are Awful (Dir. Cliff Owen, 1972), Love Thy Neighbour (Dir. John Robins, 1973), Till Death Do Us Part (Dir. Norman Cohen, 1969), The Likely Lads (Dir. Michael Tuchner, 1976), Are You Being Served? (Dir. Bob Kellett, 1977), On The Buses (Dir. Harry Booth, 1971), Holiday On The Buses (Dir. Harry Booth, 1972) / Mutiny On The Buses (Dir. Bryan Izzard, 1973)

Paramount is releasing Oh, What a Lovely War! in both R1 and R2, featuring Sir Richard Attenborough’s first ever DVD commentary, plus featurettes - looking forward immensely to that in October. In much the same vein, look out for the allegorical The Shooting Party, set on the eve of World War 1 and the great James Mason’s last film, also due for release in both regions and again featuring some interesting extras.

There’s a new 16 title Will Hay Box Set on the way: The Black Sheep of Whitehall (1942), Dandy Dick (1935), The Ghost of St Michaels (1941), The Goost Steps Out (1942), My Learned Friend (1943), Radio Parade of 1935 (1934), Those Were the Days (1934), Oh Mr Porter (1937), Convict 99 (1938), Windbag The Saiilor (1936), Ask A Policeman (1938),  Boys Will Be Boys (1935), Old Bones of the River (1938), Where There’s a Will (1936), Good Morning, Boys (1937), Hey! Hey! USA! (1938). This will outdo the previous set, not only in terms of quantity, but also quality - Val Guest took part in the recording of extras before his death earlier this year.*

Not British films but coming from an excellent British company, in Eureka’s Master of Cinema range. The Complete Buster Keaton Short Films Collection 1917-1923 Box Set (4 Discs), is a lip-smacking propect considering the quality of the previous MoC range. The blurb:

Containing 32 films - with a running time of over 700 minutes - this collection documents Buster Keaton’s short films between 1917-1923. Capturing Keaton’s first steps in front of a camera this box set charts his early association with ex-Keystone Kop Roscoe ‘Fatty’ Arbuckle through to headlining, starring in, and directing his own box office smash hits. Using Chaplin’s old Hollywood studios in 1920, Keaton’s sophisticated technical inventiveness coupled with his haunted-yet-handsome “Stone Face” persona, created a succession of the most timeless, classic comedy shorts ever realised. The Masters Of Cinema series presents the following films in a four-disc box set, with audio commentary by Joseph McBride on six of the films, and a 212-page book:

The Butcher Boy (1917), The Rough House (1917), His Wedding Night (1917), Oh, Doctor! (1917), Coney Island (1917), Out West (1918),  The Bell Boy (1918), Moonshine (1918), Good Night Nurse (1918), The Cook (1918), Backstage (1919), The Hayseed (1919), The Garage (1919), The “High Sign”* (finished 1920, released 1921), One Week* (1920), Convict 13* (1920), The Scarecrow (1920), Neighbors (1920), The Haunted House (1921), Hard Luck (1921), The Goat (1921), The Playhouse* (1921), The Boat* (1921), The Paleface (1922), Cops* (1922), My Wife’s Relations (1922), The Blacksmith (1922), The Frozen North (1922), Daydreams (1922), The Electric House (1922), The Balloonatic (1923), The Love Nest (1923)  (*features audio commentary)

 *A little note on the Will Hay Box Set; since posting this, I now learn that not only is there some doubt as to Val Guest’s participation in any extras, but on the future of this new set - which is up for pre-order on several websites - itself. Watch this space…

And I can use this edit to add a few titles - coming this month from DDHE: The Card, Charley’s Aunt (though that box art seems to be a mix of both the US and UK versions), Conquest of The Air, Hotel Sahara. In October: Man of Aran, Sailor Beware!

Odd Man Out August 27, 2006

Posted by John Hodson in : Film & DVD Reviews, British Film, Crime / Noir / Thriller , 8 comments

A veteran fighter for ‘The Cause’, this was going to be one of Johnny McQueen’s last jobs with a gun. He has a vision of replacing the bullet with the ballot box, but he’ll never see the day. Stumbling through a snow filled landscape, life is ebbing out of him drip by bloody drip onto the cobbled streets of Belfast…

Odd Man Out is one of the finest films I’ve ever seen; literate, achingly beautiful, a haunting score, wonderfully acted and deftly directed. It is probably Carol Reed’s masterpiece, but , in general, today is largely forgotten other than by film fans, and even amongst that community, it’s certainly overshadowed by Reed’s The Third Man (which the briefly seen Orson Welles dominates so completely, that many - not you, gentle reader - credit him with the film’s success).

Reed’s dark tale of greed and love lost in post-war Vienna is indeed a scintillating piece of work by any standards. But it’s the story of the I.R.A. (although his affiliation is never made clear, McQueen’s ‘chief’ must surely be so) man on the run that resonates so much more deeply, with this viewer at least.

Despite the highly charged political backdrop, Reed’s 1947 film largely skirts those issues, as a pre-action title card makes plain. This is a film not about the ‘Troubles’ per se, but about the human heart; well, that’s the claim. The camera swoops in from above Belfast’s dockland taking us - the ones that live outside the province at least - into a city and a conflict of which we know little.

Johnny, just escaped after eight months in jail doing a 17-year stretch for gun-running and still not fully recovered, is first seen in the upstairs room of a small terraced house in Belfast’s town centre. The cell is planning a fund raising raid on a local mill; of course, they’re going armed, but Johnny urges no gun play. In fact, the three men who lift the cash - McQueen, Nolan (a very young Dan O’Herlihy) and Dennis (the excellent Robert Beatty) - do so in an affable fashion, smiling, nodding and winking at those they surprise in the mill office, bundling notes from the safe into bags.

As they make their getaway, Johnny is taken ill and is grappled to the ground by a gun-toting Mill worker. Two shots ring out, Johnny taking a horrific wound to the shoulder, the mill worker dead where he lies. As he races their car from the scene, nervous and excitable driver Pat (Cyril Cusack, fine tuning his brogue for north of the border) allows Johnny to fall from the running board. It’s a mess; the alarm bringing the authorities, the gang on the run without their wounded chief.

Reed paints a picture of a divided Belfast full of traps for those engaged in the struggle; informers after cash, police everywhere. Denis O’Dea’s intractable Inspector is determined that his man will face justice, and if his portrayal is in danger of being perceived as fascist - clad in black, with a swagger stick he uses to lift faces up to his - Reed weighs this against the incompetent gun happy Pat, who is desperate to use his gat. And with fatal consequences, while full of spine-stiffening whiskey, he does so.

James Mason turns in a remarkable performance as the charismatic Johnny; his weight as an actor is to spend most of the film dying, with little in the way of dialogue, but he dominates the proceedings effortlessly. In truth, McQueen’s dead from the moment the bullet was fired - he first escapes to an air raid shelter, where he makes a couple of spectral appearances, to a child, then to a courting couple who don’t even notice at first that this human wraith is in there with them. Later, as he leaves the home of an English woman who attempts to patch him up - then shrivels away when she realises who he is - the wind howls as if it is his spirit and not the corporeal being that is about to walk the freezing cold Belfast air. His travels across the city take him to a monumental mason’s yard, where he slumps, surrounded by headstones, statues of angels, the detritus of the dead.

Reed films him, semi-conscious, delirious, in agony, trying just to get somewhere, anywhere, where he can die in peace. And all the time, the constabulary is closing in, picking up his comrades, cutting him off from safety. If Reed eschews the political angle, he doesn’t shy away from the spiritual. Johnny’s girl, Kathleen (the gorgeous Kathleen Ryan), who is plotting an escape route, seeks help from the wise Father Tom (W.G. Fay) who taught Johnny as a child. Father Tom wants to save Johnny’s immortal soul, and gently lectures the fey Shell (F.J. McCormack), seeking the reward the police are offering, that there are rewards worth having greater than mere money. Shell can’t quite grasp it…

Father Tom’s simple reflections on the basic tenents of Christianity - the basic necessities of humanity - have been falling on deaf ears for years; ‘They can’t hear you Father!’ says a hallucinatory Johnny. But the words spoken by his vision to the child long ago finally break through. From Corinthians, Johnny, standing on legs that will barely support him, yells a memory of a lesson he can just remember: ‘When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I felt as a child, I reasoned as a child…’ If there is a religious message - underscored by a Christ-like vision of McQueen, arms outstretched against bare railings - it is surely that 2,000 years in, none of us, of any faith or creed, is listening. Despite the protestations of that title card, maybe William Hartnell’s English publican, who spots Johnny but wants nothing to do with him or his business, is indeed intended to send a political message; but a film such as this? How could it not? Belfast is filled with conspirital shawl-clad republicans; the forces of the Crown, the enemy - to part of the populace at least - for generations.

All this gloom is relieved by a couple of scenes that, I think, Reed handles beautifully. Firstly, as The Third Man demonstrated amply, he’s a superb director of children. Robert Beatty quizzes a Belfast street gang, one of whom simply asks over and over ‘…’ave you got a ciggie? Give us a cigarette…’ and another who answers him with great dollops of cheeky insolence, that only a child who’s aware has the upper hand can dole out to an adult. It’s a lovely vignette. The second, which tends to divide opinion, involves Robert Newton, that old soak, who plays artist Lukey (who is, by coincidence, an old soak). Lukey is searching for the meaning of life and, grotesquely, thinks he can find it in Johnny’s dying eyes. Playing off a cynical failed medical student, Tober (a world weary Elwyn Brook-Jones), their dialogue could almost be described as Pinteresque, though the combination of low comedy and utter tragedy is Fordian, or Shakespearian, depending on your view.

The ending is inevitable, and shattering. Changed from the novel because of the demands of the American censor, it’s possibly more fitting and more satisfying. I’m left in pieces.

Network’s new Special Edition R2 DVD of Odd Man Out is quite, quite gorgeous. The previous R2 disc from Carlton was okay, but suffered from a large amount of telecine wobble, dirt and scratches. This transfer, the sleeve notes tell us, was made by Granada from the best available safety element, after being compared to the BFI held original nitrate fine grain master and found to be in better condition. Digitally restored in high-definition, it’s a peach, showing off Robert Krasker’s absolutely masterful, simply stunning, high contrast cinematography to best possible effect. With much of the action taking place at night on stark snow filled streets - beautifully lit sets and Belfast locations - it’s finely detailed, barely a mark on it. The restored print is, by the way, just about to start a limited theatrical run in the U.K.

The soundtrack too, has had a wash a brush up and William Alwyn’s spare and wonderful score, played on set so that Mason walks in agony in time to the music, is rendered perfectly. There’s a deathly calm, by the way, about the whole production, the blanket of snow that covers Belfast transfigured into a shroud for the dead, the wind eerily becomes part of Alwyn’s overall palette. That’s echoed in Reed’s hit two years later, as Harry Lime’s fingers (actually Reed’s own) probe the night air of Vienna through the sewer grating.

The disc has a handful of very useful extras; the 1972 documentary from Yorkshire Television, Home James, in which Mason returns to his native Huddersfield, is marvellously nostalgic stuff, while there are some fascinating snippets from another 1972 interview, which is basically a collection of unedited rushes. Also worthy of note is the 24-page booklet, Soldier in the Snow, well researched and written by Steve Rogers, and containing lots of useful and interesting information - about the Abbey Players, Mason and Reed’s careers, Krasker’s immense influence, the original novel and much more. At the back of the booklet is a reproduction of the original press book.

There are also 165 images in a rolling gallery, plus the script, in PDF format.

Superb - more of this standard Network please!

No Plough-boy, Tinker, Tailor’s Any Fun To Be… August 13, 2006

Posted by John Hodson in : Film & DVD Reviews, British Film, Fantasy , add a comment

(Previously published in another form at The DVD Forums )

There’s a great Michael Powell story, but I can’t for the life of me remember who told it. It goes something like this; in the 1980s our hero goes to Hollywood for the first time, he’s on the lot for an appointment, goes into a lift and a small, dapper, elderly gent is in there with him. Our hero obviously recognises him and is beside himself - he’s with a movie God. In Hollywood. In a lift. What does he - what can he - say?

Before he can say anything, Powell starts to hum a little ditty…and it’s Abu’s theme from the beautiful The Thief of Bagdad an early Rosza score: ‘I want to be a sailor, sailing out to sea…’. Our man smiles. He’s in a lift with Michael Powell. In Hollywood. And this genius of British cinema is humming, absent-mindedly, a tune from decades previously. The door opens, Powell leaves…no words were exchanged…and our hero is left with a golden moment he’ll treasure forever.

MGM, before they were swallowed whole by Sony, were quite rightly derided for the treatment of their back catalogue of classics; sadly, since the takeover, we are still all too used to poor prints and transfers, movies in the wrong aspect ratios or presented non-anamorphically. Things have gone from bad to worse.

But the Lion was perfectly capable of some good work, and their presentation of the 66-year-old fantasy masterpiece, The Thief of Bagdad, is quite excellent.

Filmed at Denham Studios, and using locations around the Grand Canyon to substitute for parts of the world that were, at the time, made inaccesible (there was a war on, you know…), The Thief of Bagdad was a special effects spectacular. Indeed, at the following years Oscar ceremony, it scooped three statuettes, for William Cameron Menzies & Vincent Korda’s Art Direction (colour), Georges Périnal’s beautiful Technicolor cinematography and special effects (Lawrence W. Butler, photographic / Jack Whitney, sound). Miklos Roza’s wonderful score (a dry run for Ben Hur) was nominated but, unbelievably, lost out to Pinocchio.

A film of this scale boasted company credits equally as grandiose; the titles tells us that Ludwig Berger, Michael Powell & Tim Whelan directed the movies but they were, apparently, joined by Alexander & Zoltan Korda, plus William Cameron Menzies (the legendary art director who also worked on the 1924 version) all uncredited. Korda was very clearly a demanding taskmaster, as the production turned into a game of musical (directors) chairs.

The cast is spot-on. Sabu, with just the right amount of thespian artlessness as the little thief Abu, John Justin, the blighted Ahmad, June Duprez, subsituting for first choice Vivien Leigh, as the Princess and the superb Conrad Veight as an evil, and quintessential, Jaffar. The always delightful Miles Malleson not only starred as the Sultan of Basra, but wrote the screenplay, and, in the editing room, was Charlie Crichton, later of Ealing but probably as famous today for directing A Fish Called Wanda.

In short, what we are looking at is the grandaddy of today’s special effects blockbusters, a film that has a great story, heroes you can cheer for, villains you can hiss at and which stands up as a piece of timeless entertainment that will surely go on entertaining for generations to come. And it’s British.

MGM rather hustled this out on to the market at the back end of 2002 in R1, with little or no fanfare. It cartainly passed me by and I was surprised to see it available when a (computer Luddite) friend asked me to buy it for him. When he told me it was stunning, I didn’t know whether to believe him or not - can you trust a chap without a computer about anything?

Well, now having seen it myself, he’s wrong. It’s not stunning. Well, not simply stunning; it’s a (very nearly) magnificent piece of work from MGM, from the moment a perfectly preserved - and colour - London Films logo hits the screen you know you are in for a treat. The Lion must have worked from a nigh perfect print to get this pensioner of a film looking so spritely. Three strip Technicolor looks absolutely gorgeous when reproduced well on DVD; it looks horrendous when handled badly. Thank God this is the former.

The colours are vivid and true, skin tones, the sumputous sets and magnificent costumes look as if you could reach out and touch them. No, it’s not absolutely perfect, there are some compression artefacts on show, and one brief passage of colour misregistration, but it is, with that stupendous production design, for the greater percentage of the running time, genuine eye candy, parts of it on a par with Warner’s miraculous The Adventures of Robin Hood. The sound, produced from elements that obviously were not quite in such good condition, is a little dull and could do with some work, but it is not a major problem.

Perhaps the biggest problem, ironically, is those special effects, the sheer clarity of the presentation rather blunting their effect; the mattes are visible if you look close enough as are the wires holding the magic carpet, and if Rex Ingram had realised his bald cap would look so amateur hour in the 21st century, he’d have probably shaved his head. Ah, suspend your belief just a touch more and forget it, let yourself be swept up by the sheer wonderous, panto-like naivete of it - The Thief of Bagdad is a terrific, wonderfully crafted, film, beautifully presented on DVD - the lack of any kind of extras notwithstanding - and deserves a place in any serious enthusiasts collection.

I’m aware that there are now three PAL versions of the film on the market, an R4 disc (no information sadly - anyone?), a recently released version from Network in the UK (again, any opinions would be welcome - though I suspect the print MGM worked with came from the same vault, courtesy of Carlton, now Granada Ventures) and what looks to be one at least as good as the R1 on the German market - Der Dieb von Bagdad - with a few more extras than the MGM disc (which only boasts a trailer), including a 10 minute black-and-white silent movie parody Grief in Bagdad. Take your pick…

If ever a film cried out for a special edtion, it’s this. I had high hopes when Network announced this, plus two other films featuring Sabu, Elephant Boy and Jungle Book, sadly, all bereft of any kind of extras. We should, I suppose, be thankful for small mercies, that it exists in the digital arena at all, and in such good condition.

On Being English August 12, 2006

Posted by John Hodson in : Film General, British Film , 7 comments

Ten films that define my England…

Cause for Celebration? July 21, 2006

Posted by John Hodson in : DVD News & Info, British Film , 3 comments

Further to my entreaty, in a recent post, for more British films on DVD, by some happy coincidence this week, that’s exactly what we’ve got. Well, to a point.

Network, thanks to their licensing agreement with Granada Ventures, are in the next few weeks releasing a postive glut of goodies. August will see the release of Alan Clarke’s Billy The Kid and Green Baize Vampire, September sees The Uncanny, Countess Dracula SE, The Medusa Touch SE and William Campbell Menzies Things to Come SE. And on September 25, we’ll have Leslie Woodhead’s 1969 documentary The Stones in The Park. Those ‘Special Editions’ are encouraging, but without detail, I’m doing no cartwheels - I’ll be just glad if, for instance, Things to Come shines like the jewel it should. My suspicion is that it’s been restored by TLE Films, of Germany, the outfit reponsible for some fine work - not least on Eureka’s M, and Paramount Germany’s A Fistful of Dollars and A Few Dollars More. But it’s only a hunch based on the fact that they were touting it on their website until a few months ago - who knows?

Meanwhile from Optimum, if that was a glut, this a veritable vomit of British classics. For August release: The Blue Lamp, for September release: Billy Liar, The Doctor Who Boxset, The Graham Greene Boxset (The Fallen Idol, The Third Man, Brighton Rock), Peter Sellers Collection (Heavens Above, I’m Alright Jack, Two Way Stretch, The Very Best of Peter Sellers - a TV compilation), Tony Hancock Double Bill (no detail but it’s obvious is it not), The Wicker Man SE, The Ealing Ultimate Box Set (again no detail but the retail price indicates all the previous Warners / Studio Canal Ealings, plus Optimums)

For October release there’s The Green Man, Hammer Ultimate Boxset (at £150 retail it should contain every one of those previous Warners / Studio Canal titles and then some). For November release: The War Box Set (Cross of Iron, The Wooden Horse, They Who Dare), The War Box Set (The Colditz Story, The Cruel Sea, The Dam Busters), The War Box Set (I Was Monty’s Double, The Colditz Story, Went The Day Well)

Alas, I don’t hold out too much hope for better than previous releases from Optimum, either in the way of transfers (and one or two were, frankly, pretty ropey first time round), or extras. And slapping Peckinpah’s Cross of Iron in the same box as The Wooden Horse and They Who Dare is, to say the least, eccentric. Dammit, I want a 2-disc Special Editon (with knobs on).

My guess - and I hope I’m wrong - is the same old, same old in new shiny boxes. At least Network’s reissues (though it must be admitted several are new to DVD in R2) have the saving grace of ‘added value’ extras. Whether they are of any interest, though, remains to be seen.

Time to Celebrate British Cinema July 17, 2006

Posted by John Hodson in : Film General, British Film , 11 comments

My old mum, bless her, tells me that before I was even a glint in my dad’s eye, that she would go nowhere near the local Odeon if a British made film was showing. They were all, without exception ‘rubbish’. My old mum has, I’m afraid, as I often tell her, no taste whatsover. ..

Surveying my ever diminishing shelf space, I can see a wealth of treasures from the vaults of Hollywood; terrific sets devoted to Alfred Hitchcock, John Ford, Greta Garbo, Busby Berkeley et al. Set devoted to genres (Film Noir, Golden Age Comedies) and whole eras on which studio fortunes were built (Universal Horror, Gangsters).

But where are the sets, and features packed special editions, devoted to classic British cinema? Why aren’t there boxed sets of carefully restored British films, loaded with the extras we’ve come to expect from the best American releases? Why not boxed sets featuring London Films, the Kordas, the Boulting Brothers, British Lion? While other Eurpean countries have sets of films featuring Alfred Hitchcock’s early period, we have no equivalent. Madness. Isn’t there a market for a Dirk Bogarde box, John Mills, Noel Coward, Charles Laughton, Jessie Matthews, George Formby; someone, somewhere is probably gasping for Gracie Fields to be boxed (and, I realise, there are a 1001 witty retorts to that; try and restrain yourselves…) and granted acknowledgement of the superstar status she enjoyed at the height of her fame? Why not a Betty Box, er, box?

Where is there a decent DVD of Seven Days to Noon, Things to Come, The Private Life of Henry VIII, Pimpernel Smith, Contraband, The Spy in Black, Rembrandt - 100s and 100s of films, seemingly unloved. I’m perfectly aware that some of those titles have indeed been transferred to a digital medium, not with any sense of style or celebration of the fact that they emerged from British studios.

Surely there’s a market in this country for boxed sets of Hammer films, chock full of extras? DD Home Entertainment have tried, but both their range of titles, and their expertise it would seem, is limited. It’s frustrating that Warners hold the Hammer ‘crown jewels’, but seemingly refuse to present them in anything but barebones fashion. Even Anchor Bay UK have apparently gone off the boil, and I had high hopes after their Amicus set; but, then, they have an excuse. Prising licenses from the grasp of rights holders is both difficult and expensive.

Yes, Carlton - now Granada Ventures - who hold the rights of 100s of British films, did produce some box sets, notably for Will Hay (rumoured to be being prepped for reissue with extras - huzzah!), Norman Wisdom and the ‘Carry On’ series. There are their ‘Powell and Pressburger’ and ‘Rank 70th Anniversary’ boxes, but both those sets are reissues of extant material (save one film in the P&P box), and in some cases, the material is in dire need of further restoration.

Since the Granada Ventures takeover there has also been a shift in strategy; many of the old Carlton titles went out of print, as Granada issued licenses to first Network, then DD Home Entertainment (apparently a loop-hole in the Network contract means that we have the ridiculous situation of both firms issuing the same films). Network have been improving, in some cases, the old Carlton transfers and, again in some cases, adding decent extras; but it’s laborious work, with no boxed or themed material on the horizon. DD have been slapping films into boxes with little fanfare, but it’s ever so slightly shoddy stuff - three film sets for Alastair Sim and John Mills; nothing really to write home about.

There is also some hope following the end of Warners UK license with Studio Canal, the rights holder for many, many British films, including Ealing titles. Studio Canal has now sealed a deal with Optimum who produced the very best of the Ealing box sets in terms of extras and quality. Indeed, Optimum’s handling of Whisky Galore! showed just how it can be - should be - done for quality British films. In this respect, it is surprising that the BFI hasn’t been more on the ball; the BFI’s pricing of discs is breathtaking, sometimes it’s not reflected in the content. And on the marketing front, it can be argued that the British Film Institute has not always been seen as a champion of British film; it may not be the actualité, but it’s certainly the perception.

The British are just awful at promoting themselves; we stand around, coyly looking down, refusing to raise our hands, waiting for someone else - usually Anchor Bay US or Criterion - to tell us how terrific we are.

Isn’t it about time that the British celebrated the fact that we have made some terrific films over the years, films that have had a profound effect on cinema as a whole? Celebrated them with releases containing genuinly useful and informative extras, with transfers that sparkle like the jewels that they are?

The Greater Enemy July 16, 2006

Posted by John Hodson in : Film & DVD Reviews, British Film, War Films , add a comment

There are, in this writer’s humble opinion, few British war films better than J. Lee Thompson’s Ice Cold in Alex. A heroic and episodic narrative that rarely lets up, John Mills, Anthony Quayle and the wonderful Harry Andrews on the top of their game, Sylvia Sims possibly the only weak link as the simpering nurse Murdoch; hardly her fault, given the hand she had to play.

Thompson’s admirable direction (he’s clearly inspired by The Wages of Fear) keeps the tension nice and taut while Christopher Landon’s script (from his novel) goes to some lengths to avoid the usual stereotypes that populated ’50s war films; this isn’t the typical ‘us versus them’ shoot ‘em up, this is about, as Hauptman Otto Lutz says, beating “…the greater enemy; the desert.”

There are some nice cameos from a plethora of familiar faces - David Lodge (indespensible, it seems, to casting directors during this period), Liam Redmond (excellent as the slightly eccentric Brigadier), Allan Cuthertson, Walter Gotell, Frederick Jaeger, Peter Arne and Paul Stassino. 

A word of praise for Warners / Studio Canal R2 which has been transferred very nicely to DVD from an almost pristine print - top marks too for presenting it in anamorphic 1.66:1; a rare beast.

Carlsberg finally woke up to the commercial possibilities a few years ago with their famous ad featuring the scene in the bar at Alexandria - as Captain Anson (Mills always claimed they used real beer and he was drunk after the 14th take) says as he downs an icy brew in one: “Worth waiting for.”

Still wonderfully entertaining - anyone fancy a beer?

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