London Belongs to Me (1948)

The premise starts out strong. In the process of stealing a car, Breen's friend--who happens to be a girl--gets in. Breen speeds in an attempt to evade a police road block in search of the stolen car. The passenger side door opens, the girl falls out and dies as a result. Breen appears to get away with it. A police inspector falls for one of the girls in the boarding house Breen lives in; through some clever snooping and sleuthing, the police inspector nails Breen as the girl's murderer.So far so good.A trial scene in which Breen is convicted of willful murder. So far so good.The inhabitants of the boarding house decide to hold a march to the Home Office to reprieve Breen; misguided and perhaps character development for the lunacy, the idiosyncrasy of the boarding house tenants. Still OK--even if a bit much for a stretch.The Police Inspector decides to join the march! OK--that's where lunacy descended to idiocy and silliness and perverse. By then--the move was just too silly. The only appropriate ending was to see Breen's sentence commuted form hanging to life in prison without parole.The highlight of the movie--the performance of Alastair Sim as Mr. Henry Squales--a more vile and despicable creature one should ever find on film. (A character Dickens himself would have been proud to create.) "Oleaginous"--and not in the good sense--is the best way to describe Mr. Squales. And Alastair Sim plays the role to perfection. Think Mornau's Nosferatu--the long fingers, the long solitary string of hair descending from a bald pate to a long face attached to a long body. Squales pretending to be some kind of medium so he can get free board and room--oiling his way into the heart of the owner of the boarding house. That performance alone made the move worth seeing despite the descend to silliness.

Made in 1948, about 1938. Well, fashions hadn't changed that much, and landlady Joyce Carey, with her wonderful lace collars, is still living in the basement in 1918. For me, that's part of the appeal of films of this era - spotting the Victorian furniture and decor. Look at the Jossers' elaborate overmantel - and what would those etchings be worth now? At the time, all this Victoriana was a marker for people who couldn't afford anything new, and lived with the furniture provided. Back to the plot - it helps to understand Norman Collins's books. They are all like this: the story of a large cast of characters without an obvious hero or heroine. I have a confession to make: I like Richard Attenborough. He was good at playing criminals, spivs and wide boys. We know he's really middle class, we know he's now titled - but is that a reason to call him "bland", or address him as "Dickie boy"? What's that all about? Myrna (Eleanor Summerfield) went on to a career on the small screen. I agree with other reviewers about the odd way the film ends. The palaver about the petition goes on for too long. I suppose Collins wanted to send up earnest agitators, as well as silly spiritualists. The spiritualists come over as more sympathetic.

I admit I was confused as I watched this film, was it a crime story, a black comedy, a political statement? But as the film went on, I realized it is so much more than that. It is about the people who live on Dulcimer Street on the brink of WWII. It is about a misguided, stupid, teenage boy, who loves his mother, a young girl about to become a woman, a man at the end of a dead end career who always thinks of others and has inner happiness. A rogue con man, a hungry middle age woman, an aging agitator, a policeman trapped by his superiors. All the different blends of true people of England, who come together against all odds to fight a battle already one. This is a film that captures the true spirit of being English. And that is what this film is about.

Well, I was actually born in Liverpool, not London, but The Big Smoke is near and dear to my heart, and this film is a wonderful tribute to the city and its inhabitants. Set during 1938 and 1939, London Belongs to Me blends elements of film noir, comedy, drama, and even a smidgen of romance into its story of Percy Boon (Richard Attenborough), a young motor mechanic who finds himself embroiled in the death of a fun fair employee (Eleanor Summerfield). When Percy is found guilty of murder and sentenced to hang, the denizens of Dulcimer Street, led by lefty agitator Uncle Henry (the marvelous Stephen Murray), band together to plead for a reprieve. The final stirring scenes of the film follow the disparate band of Londoners--a cross-section of residents reflecting the cosmopolitan nature of the great metropolis--as they march to deliver their petition to the Home Office. Without giving away too much, the film is resolved in a fashion utterly alien to Hollywood cinema, as Uncle Henry and his friends--including the ineffectual but loyal Mr. Josser (Wylie Watson) and religious crank Headlam Fynne (Hugh Griffith) head off to the pub for a pint. If you, like me, have ever fallen in love with London, you will recognize many of the reasons for your passion in this marvelous and moving film, which has lost none of its power over the years.