Reviews

The Green Man is actually a seaside hotel where an experienced but bumbling professional assassin, brilliantly played by Alastair Sim, plans to eliminate a pompous government official while he listens to himself making a boring speech on an exploding radio. In a complicated plot involving the bungled non-murder of Sim's ageing fiancée (played by Avril Angers), vacuum cleaner salesman George Cole becomes romantically entangled with Ann Vincent (Jill Adams). With cameo parts played by Richard Wattis as a doctor who is easily bribed, Cyril Chamberlain as an inconvenient chess playing police sergeant, Alexander Gauge as the chairman of a boring committee, Arthur Borough as the harassed hotel manager, Dora Bryan as the wounded pride hotel receptionist, and Marie Burke as the leader of a delightfully incompetent old ladies musical string trio, the laughs and action roll merrily along. Add the farcical Terry-Thomas as the philandering upper- crust Boughtflower, Colin Gordon as a neurotic broadcaster, and Raymond Huntley as Sir Gregory Upshott, the two-timing official who is to be murdered, the recipe for success is complete. The plot is discovered in the nick of time, George Cole throws the exploding radio out of the window, and the fleeing Alastair Sim is involved in two car collisions, crashing firstly into his fleeing assistant, McKecknie (John Chandos) and then backing into a police car. Cue the arrest of the assassins while George Cole gets his girl. Terrific stuff and very, very English.

This is really two stories in one. The first is the underlying plot of a murder during a live radio broadcast of a play so that the actual death by strangling of Donald Wolfit (before he became famous), is the real thing. Having been previously castigated by producer Val Gielgud (who actually wrote the film storyline as well) for not gasping properly, he is summoned to be congratulated on his improved performance only to be found stretched out on the floor, dead. There are several plausible suspects who all had the opportunity and motive to commit the crime but the actual culprit seemingly has a cast iron alibi. His unmasking therefore comes as a genuine surprise with the final chase through Broadcasting House bringing about his demise when he enters a door without realising it is a live electricity station. The second story is that of the daily routine in Broadcasting House where we are treated to two top stars of the day, Elisabeth Welch and Eve Becke, delightfully singing to the accompaniment of Ord Hamilton at the piano and Percival Mackey's dance orchestra respectively. Interweaved and connecting both stories is a gormless intruder who goes all over the building in search of the Variety studio, upsetting everyone in the process and also becoming a prime murder suspect. Other people come and go, mischievously signing autographs outside the front door. A gripping film, the only disappointment being that the police inspector never reveals his evidence until right at the end, thus depriving the viewer of accurately guessing whodunit.

In the days before political correctness reared its ugly head, boys were boys and girls and girls, and ne'er the twain should meet - except for St. Trinian's where small girls were boys, at least in their behaviour, and large girls were rather pretty, in Sabrina's case voluptuous. The main characters were all well drawn with a splendid supporting cast and all very British. Alastair Sim was perfect as the headmistress, George Cole was the Cockney geezer, Joyce Grenfell the ever spurned policewoman while Eric Barker as Culpepper Brown and Richard Wattis as Bassett were truly superb archetypal education ministers. As for Terry-Thomas - well? Even a coach driver could be posh in those days! Stiff upper lip what, even with St. Trinian's on board. All good clean fun which had family audiences flocking to the local cinema. What a pity they don't show films like this any more on television because they beat the modern rubbish hollow for entertainment value.

This is one of the greatest films ever made and easily surpasses later versions. Donat's progression from young inexperienced teacher to that of acting headmaster is quite brilliant, as is the overall portrayal of public school life down from Victorian times through to the verge of the Second World War. There were many Mr. Chips' of the period and there have been since, so much so that the phrase has become folklore in the English language. I don't mind admitting the ending brought tears to my eyes as this wonderful old man, who lost his wife and son during childbirth, reminisces about his lifetime in teaching and how he influenced all the hundreds of boys in his care, including those who did not survive the First World War. It is important for the modern generation to appreciate how their society was shaped and this film does it in abundance. It is founded on self sacrifice and service to the community at large and the public school system in particular.