• It Always Rains on Sunday

8/7/23 (Mon)

A noir film of 1947 by the famed Ealing Studio, which I know more for its comedies; indeed, director Robert Hamer is best known for his fabulous Kind Hearts and Coronets for the studio a few years later.

We are in contemporary (postwar) London’s working-class East End. A convict escapes from prison and finds his way to the home of his former sweetheart Rose, a hardened shrew now married to a dull but stable businessman with two grown daughters from his previous marriage and a son of their own (who, it is hinted, may in fact be the convict’s child). She does her best to clear everyone out of the small house and hide the convict despite a constant danger of discovery. Various stories and characters intersect – the daughters each have disreputable relationships with questionable Jewish brothers, a trip of gangsters tries to pawn off roller skate contraband, the police question numerous parties in conviction that the convict will return to the area, members of the family keep coming back into the home – but the core is the relationship between Rose and the convict. Their respective feelings are shown in a scene where Rose, seeking to help him financially, passes him the treasured ring he once gave her, only to discover bitterly that he doesn’t remember it at all. Their different perspectives come to a head when he betrays her, leading her to stick her head in the oven in an unsuccessful attempt at suicide. (All the women are betrayed in the film – the writer has a jaundiced view of men.)

The multi-tiered story unfolds naturally, bringing all the strands together seamlessly by the end. The dialogue is smart (a bartender, insulted by an policeman’s insinuations: “There’s such a thing as a law of libel.” Policeman: “There’s such a thing as ham, but there’s none in this sandwich.”), and while I could have done without the Jewish guy berating his wife for not buying the flowers wholesale, the characters overall appear true to life. Everyone seems out to take advantage of others, even the young kids, who blackmail the music shop owner after seeing him dally with one of Rose’s stepdaughters.

The standout by far was Googie Withers in an amazing performance as the thoroughly nasty stepmother. She maintains perfect control as she tries to clear the house for her lover, never letting down her guard or softening her character. She beautifully conveys her disappointment in the ring scene without any overt display of emotion, managing to make the snide woman sympathetic. She was the absolute core of the film. That was a contrast with John McCallum’s overacting, but their scenes together showed good chemistry (unsurprisingly since they soon married in real life and remained together for over 60 years). I also loved Betty Ann Davies as Sadie, wife of the two-timing music shop owner and saxophonist, especially when she comes to the club while he is performing and, to his shock, approaches his playmate to give cynical advice on how to deal with him. One other memorable appearance was character actress Hermione Baddeley (the maid in Mary Poppins) as a hotel manager, who deals brusquely with the pesky police and scratches her derriere as she exits. Such touches run throughout the film (the false teeth that fall out of the stricken man deserve a mention), making it great fun to watch from start to finish.

The film benefited strongly from moody camerawork by a young Douglas Slocombe. The portrait of postwar London, still coming back physically and spiritually from wartime deprivation, was well captured. It closes with an incredible chase scene showing unarmed police pursuing the criminal through rail yards. I had never heard of this film until tonight, choosing it randomly online, but I’m glad I found it. A classic noir.