The Whisperers (1967)

Mrs Ross (Edith Evans) is a dotty old bat prone to hearing things whispering.

“The major problem of old age is loneliness. Many old people live entirely alone, unvisited and unwanted, living day in day out in small rooms without company or friends” sneers politician on radio “Poor souls” says Mrs Ross. Deluded see.

As true then (1967) as it is now (2014) And even more so. The longer people live the lonelier they get. And they – we –  are living longer now. So we’re all getting older, and lonelier, and sadder. We’re all Mrs and Mr Ross’s now. Oh dear.

Mrs Ross is the poor soul. A deluded poor soul. She’s going to get duped, she’s going to get dumped, she’s going to get deserted.

As a grim depiction of the nitty gritty degradations of old age the film has worked ok. Here is lovely Nanette Newman telling Edith Evans to sod off. So she sods off. And then finds a parcel of loot (hidden by good-for-nothing son) in the wardrobe.

Mrs Ross has crumpled into childlike childishness. Edith Evans acts her funny hat off. She does verge on the edge of mad-as-a-hatter caricature at times (as seen in that clip for example). I couldn’t quite get my empathy engaged with or by her old-style (old fashioned?) theatrical performance.

I mean its good acting, in that its good “acting”. But bad acting in the sense that you see it more as “acting the part” rather than being the person, the Mrs Ross she’s supposed to be being.

Some of these supposedly “great” theatrical actors I often see performing their roles as if from behind, (there still as Edith Evans, John Gielgud etc) manipulating the strings, rather than being inside the character, invisible, transparent. Maybe this is something to do with the kind of over-projection that works better in a theatre, but isn’t so successful in a small frame, as a film, as cinema.

The third act flops into farcical melodrama. Bryan Forbes (director) has tried to inject some pace and drama into the downbeat mood, lift its entertainment value for a commercial audience. So in gets thrown some gangster chasing and capering about involving Mr Ross, the slimy  husband who’d dumped his wife. Poor Mrs Ross gets left behind, or left out while he’s doing all his dodgy dealing. Then he abandons her again.

But she returns at the end. Back to the Social (to ask for assistance). Back to the library (to warm her feet up on the radiators). Off to church (to sing hymns with all the other God-Forsakens) All the usual refuges of the unwanted, the poor, the old, the lonely, the sad, the unloved.

Despite my fixation with everything 1960’s black and white don’t think I’ll bother keeping this film.

Dir: Bryan Forbes, UK

5.5/10

Seance on a Wet Afternoon (1964)

This was surprisingly good; no, more than good – very good.

Considering its 50 years old, a 60’s b/w Brit flick it looks remarkably fresh, and feels psychologically astute. Not a drab wet afternoon sort of film at all. Quite artfully and smartly put together. I’m impressed.

What turns this from good into very good is Kim Stanley. The Best Actress Oscar she should have won for this went instead to Mary Poppins (Julie Andrews) She’s got diddy Dickie (Attenborough) wrapped around her little finger. I think their relationship would now be described as typically co-dependent. And the beauty of this film is you can see why, and kind of sympathize with why they so badly need one another.

The subtle domination of Stanley’s “Because you’re weak and because you need me” is the chilly chilling stark sort of insight that sounds so hurtful because its – probably, in this case – so truthful.

I couldn’t take my eyes off Kim Stanley in this. I was sort of mesmerized by her, sucked in, seduced. Kind of like poor Dickie was. He just couldn’t help himself but love her. He’d kidnap kids, commit crime, make himself small and subservient, contradict his own conscience, do just about anything to make her need his love. He’d even stick on a prosthetic nose (slightly perturbed me his nose)

This film deserves more consideration than what I’ve dashed off here. So I’ll definitely be watching it again. As soon as we get another wet afternoon.

Dir: Bryan Forbes, UK

8/10

The L Shaped Room (1962)

Watched this film off YouTube. Adaptation of a book by Lynne Reid Banks (i bought it 2nd hand but never read it) Another of those – or so i thought – juicy b/w Brit films of the 1960’s. By “juicy” i mean full of gritty realism about everyday ordinary kitchen sink lifes.

This has some kitchen sink and some suds, but the rubber marigolds are on protecting soft hands from getting too dirty or careworn. The characters aren’t recognisably everyday either; more like out of the ordinary misfit “types”: a gay black, a lesbian actress, a chatty tart, a struggling writer, and a petite French girl with a shameful secret.

They’re all living in a seedy London boarding house together. The French girl (Leslie Caron) Jane arrives and takes L shaped room in the roof. Wannabe writer (Tom Bell) Toby is soon sniffing around. The gay jazz trumpeter black guy is friendly. So too are the dykey kindly old actress and the soft-hearted tart. There’s a lot of “More tea dear?” talk.

Jane is pregnant (her secret) but unmarried (her shame) – and doesn’t know what to do: have it, or kill it. Toby is sort of falling in love with her, but gets stroppy after finding out shes up the duff; basically, he’s doesn’t wanna know. Jane Od’s on her “something special pills” given to her by the kindly dyke. She decides she’s gonna have the kid after all and go back to France. End of romance. Mind you, Toby was dumping her anyway (the selfish bar-steward)

A Brahms Piano Concerto is periodically pumped in to try to elevate all these “seedy” suddy proceedings up into – what exactly? I don’t know, give it an air of misguided romanticism – lift it out of its kitchen sinkness i suppose.

Although mildly diverting, i wasn’t particularly engaged by it. Not gritty enough to grab me around the short and curlies. It was trying to mix French New Wave sophistication with provincial English “Oh dear” resignation – which slopped tidily out as a mediocre melange of nothing muchness.

Dir: Bryan Forbes, UK

6/10