Showing posts with label Alfie Bass. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Alfie Bass. Show all posts

Sunday, 18 October 2020

Road rage… Hell Drivers (1957)


I haven’t seen this film since a black and white Saturday in the seventies and it deserves its reputation as one of the best dramas of the period. Yes, the film is sped up to make some of the truck driving look even more dangerous than it probably was but on the bigger modern screen this is still a white knuckle ride as your foot reflexively pushes down hard on the imaginary brake at the base of your living room chair with every manic swing round an impossible corner or reckless overtake into on-coming traffic. 

Cy Endfield’s cutting is masterful of course and the editing of John D. Guthridge, pulling back and forth from the road, the monstrous trucks and the sweated reactions of one of the finest ensembles of actors you’ll find. Indeed, it’s not so much the speed of vehicles that scare you but the display of desperation and mad determination on the brows of Stanley Baker, Patrick McGoohan and Herbert Lom. This is Britain’s answer to Clouzot’s Wages of Fear with the dynamite being in men’s hearts and minds, post-war austerity of the soul.

Stanley Baker
 

Baker is brilliant as Tom Yately, just out of prison for an unspecified crime but aiming to follow the straight and narrow if he can only get a chance. He has the right mix of quite shame in his past with a modest, yet fierce belief in his own worth; such a likeable actor and one of the icons of post-War British cinema. None of the characters in Hell Drivers is entirely innocent and it’s a tough film with a dark heart. Tom finds his way to Hawletts, a haulage contractor ruthlessly run by Mr Cartley (William Hartnell), which makes money by moving as much gravel across from quarry to building site as possible with the mathematics of the daily deliveries being unrelenting: each driver needs to make at least twelve ten-ton, twenty-mile round trips a day or lose his job. The trucks are parrot-nosed Dodge 100 "Kew" vehicles not designed for comfort or even safety at the speeds the top drivers take them. 

Cartley's secretary Lucy (Prestatyn’s finest Peggy Cummins in jeans!) has an instant spark with Joe who’s heard from a pal about a vacancy – caused, as we learn, by the death of a driver – and he soon learns the ropes after a near miss on his first trip out in truck no. 13, with head mechanic Ed (the excellent Wilfrid Lawson). It doesn’t get any easier as Joe soon comes up against the driver’s top dog, "Red" Redman (Patrick McGoohan), the fastest and most reckless who has truck no. 1. McGoohan has screen presence to match Baker’s and is at his most febrile here, as out of control as the Dodge’s with a performance that veers towards the barrier of believability but stays just inside the double yellow line of sincerity.

Peggy Cummins

Herbert Lom’s Gino, driver of truck no. 3, provides a counterbalance, an Italian who remained after the war and who is both religious and honest. Gino loves Lucy, and sweetly calls her his “girl” even though we suspect she is only marking time with him as she soon proves with her advances to Tom; see, no-one is innocent.

The rest of the team is a roll-call of character-acting excellence, everyone of whom would have long careers; Dusty, no. 22 (Sid James), Tinker, truck 11 (Alfie Bass), Scottie, no. 7 (Gordon Jackson) and, sorry mate but the Scottie nickname was already taken, Johnny, no. 19 (someone called Sean Connery). We also have the stunningly stunning Jill Ireland as a waitress in the Pull Inn café where the boys congregate for breakfast and after a hard day’s truck. 

Tom soon gets with the flow and sets himself the target of beating Red’s record and winning the gold cigarette case for anyone who can better his 18 runs in a day. But the game is rigged as Red cheats by cutting across country and does everything he can to hamper the competition by fair means or foul. This is a tough film and you know not everyone will make it through…

What a carry on Mr Bond?

Tom goes to see his mother (Beatrice Varley) and brother Jimmy (David McCallum) to give them some of his hard-earned cash, but he’s still in disgrace with her not just for his crime but the fact he involved Jimmy who is now permanently on crutches as a result. It leaves you thinking what would have made the otherwise decent Tom so desperate for money that he’d risk both her sons in the crime. There’s something in this film that touches on working class choices and also exploitation as Hawletts turns out to be a crooked enterprise, with Cartley and Red colluding to cream off the pay for more drivers than they actually employ. They’re driving the men into the ground to make up for the missing headcount. 

The mood changes after a scrap at the local dance when Tom, wary of breaking his parole, makes a getaway before ethe police arrive to settle matters. The other drivers now start to call him coward and to undermine him at every turn, encouraged by Red. Gino swaps trucks with Tom to give him a chance at the record and pays the price… things are getting personal and Tom determines to risk everything to prove himself and to expose the con.

Parrot-nosed Dodge 100 "Kew" trucks

Dusty verdict: Hell Drivers is a classic late-period Brit Noir that manages to entertain whilst making you feel uneasy throughout. Even the lead character has been driven to such extremes that his brother is crippled and his mother won’t forgive him, whilst the rest, even those such as Sid and Alfie, are happy to join in with Tom’s victimisation, following Red’s miss directions.  

All of which gives the film the winning edge of a reality that remains, survival of the fittest against all the odds of a rigged system.  

It’s available on BFI Blu-ray with ten ton of extras and frankly, I wouldn’t hesitate to snap it up!

 

 



 
 




Saturday, 10 May 2014

Art-house Hammer… The Fearless Vampire Killers (1967)


”Boy, have you picked the wrong vampire!"

Made after Repulsion and before Rosemary’s Baby, a gothic vampire comedy might seem an unusual creative progression for Roman Polanski but there’s enough grim in this fairy tale to reveal the continuity of his thoughts.

The Fearless Vampire Killers is a twisted meditation on the perils of bungling scientific intervention with the film’s nominal heroes being responsible for upsetting the balance of its strange Transylvanian eco-system. It’s closer to Dr Strangelove than Carry on Screaming (one of the classiest of that series…) and is infused with Polanski’s Polish humour throughout.


Even watching this on my tiny black and white portable long ago, I picked up on the strangeness of the film’s atmosphere and Douglas Slocombe’s expert cinematography coupled with huge, expressive sets are used to create a claustrophobic, unsettling, quietly-hysterical world populated with a demographically-diverse set of vampires. The “horror” isn’t with the blood and gore but the sexual paranoia of a world where even taking a bath can be a risk…

The Moon rises over a perfect snow covered night-scape and a sleigh speeds into view. On board, gradually being frozen solid sit Professor Abronsius (Jack MacGowran – a Polanski regular) and his assistant Alfred (Roman Polanski). They arrive at a remote hostelry where the innkeeper Yoine Shagal (Alfie Bass) arranges a defrosting as well as a room for two.

Alfie Bass bothers Fiona Lewis
It’s a weird hotel, garlic hangs from the eves and the customers seem abnormally jumpy… almost animalistic… and young Alfred is not so different staring with virgin fascination at the chest of Magda, Shagal's maid (Fiona Lewis) as she warms his feet and then later reaching out to cop a feel only to have his hand slapped away. Are all vampire films ultimately about sex?

Sarah in the suds
Shagal shows the men to their room and opening the door to the bathroom all are surprised to see his lovely daughter Sarah (Sharon Tate) taking a bath. She’s addicted to washing but, for some reason, her father is determined to keep her away from the bathroom… there’s something about those suds… Alfred builds a snowman and looks up to see Sarah smiling down at him.

Over the snows comes a new entrant into the bar: the shambling, weirdly-disfigured Koukol (Terry Downes) servant to the local nobleman, Count von Krolock (Ferdy Mayne). Magda dives under the table to avoid him whilst the clientele stay rooted to their seats. On his way out he glances up to spot Sarah at her room window where she had been watching Alfred…

Alfred and the Magda hide from Koukol
That night Koukol returns with his master. Still looking for a bath Sarah enlists Alfred’s help in getting into the bathroom but, as she relaxes in the warmth a face appears at the skylight and, as snow drops onto her head, the Count opens the window and climbs down to begin her initiation into the cult of the undead.


Alfred and the Professor react too late and open the door to find her gone, just a small red spray on the suds revealing the vampiric attack. Shagal is distraught and heads off in pursuit followed by the not-so-fearless vampire hunters.

So far so Hammer and yet the atmosphere is very strange, the dialogue is whispered and sometimes garbled and the characters react almost like silent film actors, as if in a pantomime. Following the traditional story arc, the young girl is bitten by the ghoul but can still be saved from transformation if the heroes prevent too much blood being taken so, off they set.


At the castle matters get stranger still as the intrepid duo get locked up by Koukol before being called for their interview with a vampire, Count von Krolock (almost an anagram of Nosferatu’s Count von Orlock…) who toys with the new arrivals. Alfred finds Sarah alive and rather distant… sapped of her will by the Count who meanwhile introduces him to his son Herbert von Krolock (Iain Quarrier camping it up) thinking he will provide him with the prefect young companion…

Herbert takes a shine to Alfred
The Count intends to complete the vampirification of Sarah in front of the undead dancers in the film’s great set-piece: it feels like an MTV video twenty years early – no doubt because of its influence on subsequent videos.

Can the intrepid duo engineer an escape for themselves and the beauteous Sarah or will they be dragged down by the sheer weight of vampiric numbers as the undead strut their desiccated stuff?


It’s an odd and unsettling film that’s just a little too grotesque to qualify as easy-viewing and that’s the way it was intended. Polanski was aiming for the same dreamlike disturbance as Carl Dreyer achieved in Vampyr (1932) with the Professor’s look borrowed from one of that film’s protagonists. Which is why the language is conflicted and the well-trodden narrative trajectories head off in unpredictable ways.


Who are these men that want to interfere and over-analyse? IS scientific rationality the only way to truth and how do we, by observing alter the course of events?

Dusty verdict: There’s always the chance that The Fearless Vampire Killers could just be a daft story aimed at cashing in on the vampire vogue but I really doubt it… yes it’s funny but it’s also disturbing: who would have thought the sight of a small ring of blood in bathroom bubbles could be so creepy?

Fearless?
Favourite moment: Alfie Bass’ Jewish vampire laughing at being threatened with a cross… vampires are a broad church…

Jack MacGowran provides professorial, Sharon Tate brings beautiful and husband-to-be Polsanski does distinctive directorial along with his Alfred acting. Mention should also be given to the supernaturally-superb score from Krzysztof Komeda which perfectly matches the film’s comically-eerie mood: we laugh because it’s funny and because it’s strange…. uncanny.

Sharon Tate
The Fearless Vampire Killers is available on DVD from Amazon and others.

Mr and Mrs Polanski