Better Late Then Never

Instead, you get a movie that's enjoyable enough, but leaves you feeling like it could have been much, much more.

Easily the biggest piece of Right wing non sense propaganda I ever saw.

True to its essence, the characters remain on the same line and manage to entertain the viewer, each highlighting their own distinctive qualities or touches.

This is a very tricky intrigue which no one can make head or tail of to begin with, as no one can understand why anyone would try to mask as a war casualty long after the war is over, leading to constantly denser fog of a mysterious intrigue involving buskers, who actually lead the perplexing events - they are the chief charm of the film, although there are many such, amazing characters above all, Laurence Naismith as the canon, Bernard Miles as the gang leader, Kenneth Griffith as Crutches, and some fabulous old ladies, Beatrice Varley as the unfathomable Lucy Cash for one. Donald Sinden is the leading male, but although a good reliable actor, he always plays himself and was never very versatile. Muriel Pavlow is better. But the intrigue is the main thing.The lurid photography adds a special flavour to the film, - as the kidnapped victim is dragged away his despair is reflected in the photography of all the neon signs that are passed, the camera's way of following the murderer gives him some mythic magic until he finally appears, and so on. This film is full of tricks, the action is very dense and concentrated and horribly exciting until the mystery is cleared, - and then follows a cliffhanger.Much underrated, this is a film that deserves some attention.

A young war widow has gone on with her life, falling in love with an attractive man. Strangely, she begins to receive disquieting messages that suggest her husband might be still alive. Who would want to perpetrate such a cruel hoax on a blameless citizen ? And why ?This is a thriller with an enormously original intrigue - as it should be, since it is based on Margery Allingham's marvelously clever and inventive novel of the same name. The movie is at its evocative best when describing a London shrouded in an oppressive smog. It's a world turned dark and grey, where vast blankets of polluted fog fill the streets, to the point where people can't find their houses and dogs can't recognize their masters. Every now and then one can catch a glimpse of some disquieting scene, such as a group of raddled, unhinged veterans moving serpent-like towards ever grimmer destinations. ("Tiger", by the way, is to be commended for its bravery in describing the long-term human cost of war. It's easy for authorities and politicians to say "John Smith survived the war and re- entered civil life", but what if John Smith, upon his return, discovered that he had lost his job, neighborhood and family ? Or what if the horrors of war had coarsened and unhinged him so badly that he became a danger to himself and to others ?) The smog, of course, isn't just an environment in which wicked things happen : as an air pollution problem verging on a disaster it is a wicked thing itself, looking for babes and innocents to devour. Still, I'm not entirely sure that "Tiger" succeeds in capturing the tone of Allingham's book, which was a skillful mix of the mundane and the grotesque. I need to add, immediately, that filming the book can't be easy : it must be as difficult as trying to bottle the elusive scent of a rare mountain flower. As a result some of the scenes fall flat or sound strangely off, such as the discussion between a kind, possibly even saintly canon and his attacker. There is also a sequence involving a hazardous and torturous climb over some rocks. Here the problem seems to be technical in nature ; it's not hard to imagine a bad-tempered crew trying to lug heavy equipment over an ungrateful surface. One can almost hear an aggrieved voice saying : "Go on, sunshine, thesp as much as you want, but stretch that leg two inches more to the left and it's bye-bye to an Astrolux-XZ-350, and it won't be me who's going to pay a thousand pounds out of his own pocket". The effect of this sequence, predictably, is less than blood-curdling.However, the movie is a useful introduction to the delightful novels of Allingham, who was one of the great Ladies of Crime. In her own way she was fully the equal of luminaries such as Agatha Christie and Dorothy Sayers.

During the late 1940s and the 1950s the subject of juvenile gangs and delinquency took a hold in London. The culmination of this was the creation of the image of the "Teddy Boy", who was like our delinquents - a young adult with attitude problems. In the hands of some writers it became a subject of national malaise as in the play LOOK BACK IN ANGER, with the young upset at how they were being cheated of their futures by the so-called blunders of the previous two or three generations. But in the here and now it also led to the recognition of a criminal problem: The urban youth who had nothing to do but have sex and get into trouble. A series of youthful killers in the early 1950s culminated in the Derek Bentley - Christopher Craig case, where a constable was killed, and the the actual killer could not be tried (he was too young). His mentally challenged friend, who made the mistake of shouting, "Let him have it Chris", was hanged. We still are not sure if Bentley wanted Craig to shoot or to hand the gun over to the constable. Comically the figure of the Teddy Boy was spoofed as a clumsy idiot by Peter Sellers in THE LADYKILLERS. But the really less pleasant aspect of such a type was well played by Tony Wright as Jack Havoc in this film. He is the terror of every soul in the district of London he resides in, most of whom clam up when the police try to find out who is terrorizing them, and where he is. Nobody will reveal a fact - he claims that he has all the answers - he knows how to control the world. It is not brains or cunning: He has discovered the "Science of Luck". He believes if you believe in luck you will create it for yourself. It is not until his world blows up in his face, as it did in that of his older American contemporary Cody Jarrett in WHITE HEAT, that he realizes there is a limit to such luck.Bernard Miles as his older gang lieutenant (originally the boss until Jack took over) is wonderful as a seedy type who would like to break Jack's neck but knows if something goes wrong he will be lucky to be left a cripple only. Laurence Naismith plays the decent local church canon, whose one effort to help this psychotic ends in his near murder. Donald Sinden is the local decent common man who helps bring down the local monster.It's not shown too frequently (I saw it about 1983 or so). But it was a really good little thriller well worth the watching.

From the point of view of filming, this movie is a masterpiece. The London Smog takes on a character of its own. Characters appear and disappear mysteriously, sounds are muffled, uncertain violence is ever present. The Street Band squawks and groans eerily, its members looming distorted as nightmares from Heironymus Bosch. For those unfamiliar with Marjorie Allingham, her successful detective series featured Albert Campion, a colourless gentleman who merged with his background. The filmmakers, as has been stated, successfully lost him in the "Smoke". The truly attractive character from Allingham's series is the Police detective, Charles Luke. Charlie is tall, handsome, puppy-like and incredibly dynamic. His curly hair never stays put, He never stands still, he talks with his hands, his voice is full of expression. What a great character to play! This is where the screen adaptation seriously falls down. Alec Clune appears to be making no attempt to represent Charlie Luke. He has obviously not read the book, which is a pity! The result is that the colourful Charlie is reduced to a character as grey and insipid as Albert Campion. It is a real disappointment to Charlie's fans! On the other hand, the performances by Tony Wright as the psychopath Jack Havoc, Laurence Naismith as the courageous Canon and Bernard Miles as the Gang Leader are wonderful, while Beatrice Varley as the sinister Lucy Cash is Magnificent.The most unforgettable line is this description of Lucy Cash - "When she walks down the street curtains tremble, blinds creep down and keys turn stealthily in locks." FOOTNOTE- Smog is the name of a combination of fog and coal dust, common in London until the air was cleaned up.