Whiskey Galore! (1948)

Whiskey Galore!  (aka Tight Little Island)(Alexander Mackendrick, Charles Crichton, 1949) The island of Todday in the West Hebrides is dry. It's 1943 and with the world at war, rationing has drained the last drops of whisky out of the sodden land. Scots without whiskey are restless. So, it's no wonder that among the younger set, thoughts have turned to romance. Schoolmaster George Campbell (Gordon Jackson) is trying to woo Catriona Macroon (Gabrielle Blunt), one of the daughters of shopkeeper Joseph Macroon (Wylie Watson), despite his religious mother's strong disapproval. Macroon's other daughter, Peggy (the ever-charming Joan Greenwood), is being courted by Sergeant Odd (Bruce Seton), of the Home Guard, charged with keeping the island safe from attack, and bringing a rather unwelcome sense of regimentation to island life. The older folks, well, they're just trying to get by, but, without any whisky, a general pall has descended on the island. Tea is all well and good, but the strict rationing has taken its toll on tempers because of the temperance.

So, it must seem like manna from heaven, when the SS Cabinet Minister runs aground in a heavy night-time fog. A couple of the islanders try to lend assistance, and learn from the stuck crew that the ship's cargo consists of 50,000 cases of whisky. No help is requested; none is desired. The ship begins to take on water and the crew abandons ship, leaving it to the salvage folks to take care of the cargo. But, the prospect of 50,000 cases of whiskey instills in the island a severe sense of...volunteerism. Plans are immediately made to see if the citizenry can "lighten the load" of the ship—in the spirit of helping the war effort (you understand).

To the head of the Home Guard, Captain Paul Waggett (Basil Radford), the duty is clear: as property of Her Majesty, the cargo must be under the guard of their forces and must not be interfered with until the authorities deal with the situation. To him, it is as if the Germans themselves have sunk the Cabinet Minister and any thought of touching the cargo would be tantamount to treason. He orders Odd to set up a 24 hour watch on the ship to make sure that it is safe and secure.

There's a little complication, of course. Macroon reminds Odd that a bridegroom, before his nuptials, must host a rèiteach—a communal get-together—at which whisky, traditionally, is served. No whisky, no marriage (traditionally). This creates a bit of a conflict of interest for Odd, as he does want to get married, duty or no duty. So, when word gets to him that the locals may make a "reconnaisance" of the ship, he conspires with them to complete his charge, but also let them sail out to the ship. Both Odd and the locals are determined to keep Waggett ignorant of anything that might transpire.

Hi-jinks ensue. 

 

Whiskey Galore! had a difficult production history: It was the first picture produced by Ealing Studios to feature considerable location filming and, owing to that, the budget was more of an investment than had been previously produced. Weather conditions were not exactly ideal and led the film to go over-budget and over-schedule (a full five weeks on a 10 week shoot!). Also, director McKendrick was working with a fairly inexperienced crew and came away thinking it looked more "like a home movie." Not only that, McKendrick was more in sympathy with the Home Guard commander, rather than the rapskallion islanders.

Ultimately, the film was "saved" in post, due to some re-editing and extra footage, all done by Charles Crichton. And it's delightful, full of little winking touches and the sort of local color designed to melt audiences' hearts. Mckendrick, despite the experience, went on to direct some of the great British comedies, like The Man in the White Suit, The Ladykillers, and (in the States) Sweet Smell of Success. Crichton had a long career, directing The Lavender Hill Mob all the way to his last film, A Fish Called Wanda (in 1988).

Brighton Rock (1948)

Brighton Rock (John Boulting, 1948) Brighton is a seaside resort town on England's southern coast, a holiday spot for the working class, and the subject of Graham Greene's "Brighton Rock," a story of the dark side that can infest a tourist attraction, where money can be loosened in many ways and in great amounts, which would attract the criminal element in the same amounts that they attract the punters.

When a film was made of Graham Greene's novel, the resort was, understandably, nervous, preventing the film-makers from shooting at the local racetracks, and to use hidden cameras during the crowd scenes on location. Oh. And there was enough of a nervousness that a calming opening card is used:

"Brighton today is a large, jolly, friendly seaside town in Sussex, exactly one hour's journey from London. But in the years between the two wars, behind the Regency terraces and crowded beaches, there was another Brighton of dark alleyways and festering slums. From here, the poison of crime and violence and gang warfare began to spread, until the challenge was taken up by the Police. This is a story of that other Brighton - now happily no more."

Quite happily. The film takes place in 1935—Greene had written a previous book "A Gun For Sale" and the events of that one are a bit of prologue for Brighton Rock, involving the death of the gangster Kite after a newspaper article has exposed the corruption involving slots and race-tracks and the resulting turf wars that have blighted Brighton. Kite's gang is now run by by a 17 year old tough and psychopath named "Pinkie" Brown (played by a 24 year old Richard Attenborough, with the deadest eyes in the world). And the film begins with a bit of news about a contest with lots of potential winners. They never gave any thought to anybody losing.

The Daily Messenger newspaper arrives at the boarding house populated by the Kite gang with news of a promotional contest; "Kolley Kibber" is coming to Brighton. A promotional stunt, a representative from the paper comes to town distributing cards to various businesses that lucky patrons can turn in for cash rewards...and the first person who finds the person posing as "Kolley Kibber" and says "You are Kolley Kibber and I claim the Daily Messenger prize" you win a bigger more desirable prize. So who does the messenger send out to be "Kolley Kibber?" Reporter Fred Hale (Alan Wheatley), the one who broke the story on the Kite gang. I suppose, at least, they didn't also fasten a target to his back, but, really, that's like sending Salman Rushdie on a book-tour to Iran.

But, it's an opportunity for the Kite Gang, now under Pinkie's control, to take revenge. After all, as one of the mob says "Pinkie loved Kite and Kite trusted Fred. And if Fred hadn'ta written that paragraph about slot machines Kite would've been alive now." Pinkie is informed of the contest and it's his intention to kill the reporter.

It isn't long before Hale arrives in Brighton, before he realizes he's being hunted. Trying to blend in with the seaside visitors, he runs into a theater performer Ida Arnold (Hermione Baddeley) and when he ends up dead, she informs the local constabulary that the reporter's death is more than suspicious, but when they rule that the man died of an apparent heart attack, she begins her own amateur sleuthing.

It becomes a cat-and-mouse game as Ida busy-bodies her way into the investigation, while Pinkie tries to cover his tracks, using one of the gang to distribute the cards to confuse the police. But, one of the cards is left at a restaurant where a waitress (Carol Marsh) can identify who left it. Pinkie chats up the girl, asking her out, but when he finds out she can identify the accomplice, he starts a plan to kill the man. And, if anybody gets suspicious, he'll marry the waitress to keep her from testifying against him in court. 

It's an odd combination of an Agatha Christie-like amateur against the most vicious of sociopaths—Miss Marple against Hannibal Lecter—and the Boulting Brothers production team construct it in the manner of a Hitchcock-like stylist, contrasting the most innocent of local color and injecting pure menace into it. Greene was the most Catholic of writers, adept at creating angels and devils, and in Pinkie, he created a terrifying monster with savage intent and no remorse, a wolf among sheep (and a teenager!). Although the film ends with a note of deluded sanctity—Greene has a wonderful phrase "You or I cannot fathom the appalling strangeness of the mercy of God"—even Greene didn't believe in it, only providing a note of hope to get past Britain's supervisory boards.

"You asked me to make a record of me voice. Well, here it is. What you want me to say is 'I love you.'
Here's the truth. I hate you, you little slut. You make me sick."

And Attenborough creates a memorable villain, contained and malicious without a thread of decency, making one think that the sympathetic, cherubic characters he'd play for the rest of his life may have been some form of atonement.