THE FALLEN IDOL

Carol Reed, 1948

Starring: Ralph Richardson, Bobby Henrey, Michèle Morgan, Denis O'Dea

Philipe, the young son of a diplomat, is often left alone by his busy father and has developed a close relationship with the butler, Baines. Baines tells him fabricated stories about his dangerous life in Africa and tries to spare the boy from Mrs. Baines, his cruel, jealous wife also employed by the family. Baines tries to leave her — he is having an affair with a younger woman — and she pretends to go out of town to spy on him. She finds him with Julie, his girlfriend, and the quarrel violently. She falls to her death accidentally, which Philipe misinterprets as a murder. In his attempts to help Baines, he further incriminates the man.

Like director Carol Reed’s Odd Man Out, The Fallen Idol has been shunted to the side in favor of The Third Man, which is really a crime in both cases. Shown primarily from the perspective of a child, the film has a haunting quality found in the best films about children on the verge of a developing adult consciousness (Spirit of the Beehive comes to mind in this category), but who fundamentally perceive the world differently. There are plenty of fairy tale like moments — Mrs. Baines is an obvious stand-in for the wicked stepmother — and the palatial house becomes a character all its own. The film was set inside a foreign embassy (most likely French) in London, which would the family to have sufficient wealth to warrant a large house and the employment of a household of servants.

The house is both immense and ominous, as well as a child’s playground. Philipe has the space to play lengthy games of hide-and-seek and to escape from Mrs. Baines. But the mansion is also a place of isolation and foreboding, essentially a prison. Being born into wealth and luxury means a life of loneliness and isolation for the child, as his parents are largely absent. His father appears once at the start of the film and his mother shows up only in the last seconds of the conclusion. Philippe desperately searches for companionship and surrogate parents, which he finds with abundance in Baines. The idea of wanting freedom, of wanting to escape from domestic confines that plague Baines and his young charge, is symbolized by the house, where they are both trapped without love or intimacy.

The Fallen Idol has a deeply noir sense of style with German expressionist-like lighting, Dutch angles, and the unforgettable staircase — that centerpiece of film noir. Georges Périnal’s cinematography and Vincent Korda’s set designs turn the house into a place equally fitting for childhood fantasy, illicit affairs, jealous rages, and violent death. The film was based on a story, “The Basement Room,” written by Graham Greene. This marks the first collaboration between novelist Graham Greene and director Carol Reed. They would go on to adapt Greene’s The Third Man and Our Man in Havana, though this is apparently the work that Greene was the most happy with. There were several changes, mainly that Baines apparently pushed his wife to her death, while in the film she falls and dies accidentally after she continues to try to spy on him.

There are a number of excellent performances, namely Ralph Richardson (Time Bandits, Doctor Zhivago) as Baines. The lovely Michèle Morgan (Port of Shadows) puts in a decent performance as his young girlfriend, Julie, while Sonia Dresdel (The Trials of Oscar Wilde) is memorable as the foul-tempered but not wholly evil Mrs. Baines. Bobby Henrey is transcendent as Philipe, possibly because Green allows him to act like a child. A series of lies, fantasies, and incorrectly witnessed or interpreted events rack his childlike mind and he is desperate to do what’s right, to help exonerate Baines regardless of whether or not the butler really killed his wife. The moment the boy tries to tell the truth — explaining away a piece of evidence that clears Baines of all charges — would have actually damned Baines yet again. But by this time, no one believes him. Philipe soon gives in to the childlike craving for attention and becomes incredibly annoying, which actually serves the story well and ends with him being plunked in a chair, out of the way of adult conversation. 

The Fallen Idol comes recommended and has aged remarkably well. It might sound like a tiresome story about a wealthy brat and an uptight British butler, but it has far more too offer, including a sense of mystery and wonder. Fortunately, Criterion released it and gave it a much-deserved restoration, even throwing in some special features.

ODD MAN OUT

Carol Reed, 1947

Starring: James Mason, Robert Newton, Cyril Cusack, Kathleen Ryan

Johnny, the leader of a resistance group in Ireland, has escaped from prison and has been hiding out at the home of Kathleen and her grandmother. Kathleen is in love with him and tolerates the group meeting there. They plan a heist on a local mill to raise money for their group, which Johnny reluctantly agrees to take part in. Everything goes wrong and Johnny is shot in the arm and falls out of the getaway car. He is left to hide on his own in the city, while slowly bleeding to death. The police, Johnny’s gang, and Kathleen each begin a desperate for search for him as the night grows colder and it begins to snow.

Based on F.L. Green's novel Odd Man Out (1945), this is one of Carol Reed’s finest films, though it is somewhat underrated because it has been more difficult to see than this famous film, The Third Man. Odd Man Out would actually be a fitting double-feature with The Third Man. Though they are very different films, both are set in war-torn cities where the police search for a criminal who is fleeing because of a single crime gone wrong. Both criminals — Harry Lime of The Third Man and Johnny from Odd Man Out — are immoral. While Harry’s crime is arguably worse, Johnny is a gang leader having doubts after a prison sentence. Both are charismatic anti-heroes, two of Reed’s finest characters.

Odd Man Out was also something of a dry run for the famous, German expressionist-influenced cinematography of The Third Man. Odd Man Out was shot by Robert Krasker and has some truly beautiful scenes of the city at night. Roger Furse and Ralph Binton's production design is excellent and was clearly influenced by French poetic realist films like Pépé le Moko (1937) and Port of Shadows (1938). There is also a sense of Greek tragedy and Catholic martyrdom to Johnny’s character, whose irrevocable doomed is clear from the start of the film. This is just as much film noir as religious tragedy, where Johnny becomes a sort of symbolic sacrifice. He wanders through the city, bleeding out, and has encounters with a variety of strange people — giving the narrative a vignette-like feel — from housewives and artists, to bums and barmen. He eventually moves so close to death that he begins hallucinating and recites parts of Corinthians just before his death: “If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing.”

James Mason gives an incredible performance, certainly one of his best, but Johnny isn’t actually given the bulk of screen time. The equally sound supporting cast was from Dublin’s well-known Abbey Theatre, including actors like Cyril Cusack (Harold and Maude), Robert Beatty (2001: A Space Odyssey), and Dan O’Herlihy (Halloween III: Season of the Witch). Robert Newton (Oliver Twist) made a memorable cameo as a drunken artist trying to paint death, with the dashing first Doctor Who, William Hartnell, appears as a frustrated bartender not sure whether he should throw Johnny out on the street or give him solace. Kathleen Ryan (Give Us This Day) is here in her first feature film as Johnny’s love. And last, but certainly not least, the Abbey Theatre’s founder, W.G. Fay, appears as the kind Father Tom.

Odd Man Out comes highly recommended and is a noir-crime masterpiece. Reed mostly succeeds in being apolitical and not taking with or being specifically against the IRA, which Johnny’s organization is clearly meant to represent. There are many wonderful surreal moments, which increase as Johnny moves closer to death on his urban, yet mythic journey. The sense of doom and loss is heightened by a wonderful score from William Alwyn, which I would like to own separately. Odd Man Out is currently only available as a region B Blu-ray, though Criterion are allegedly giving it their fantastic treatment sometime in 2015.

NIGHT TRAIN TO MUNICH

Carol Reed, 1940
Starring: Margaret Lockwood, Rex Harrison, Paul Henreid, James Harcourt

I love, love, love me some Carol Reed. Responsible for one of my favorite films of all time, The Third Man, Reed is an expert at thrillers, intrigue, and black and white cinematography. Night Train to Munich comes from earlier in his career and though it may be a little too slow paced for viewers not used to 1940s cinema, it is highly recommended.

The adorable Margaret Lockwood (The Lady Vanishes) plays Anna, a young Czech girl whose father, Dr. Bomasch (James Harcourt), has invented a new technique for armor plating. When the Nazis attempt to kidnap him and he escapes to England with the help of the British Royal Navy, they retaliate by arresting Anna and putting her in a concentration camp. She befriends Karl Marsen (Paul Henreid), a downtrodden political prisoner, and they quickly hatch a plan and make their escape to England. It is soon revealed to us that Marsen is an SS officer in disguise and he has been assigned to woo Anna and learn her father's whereabouts.

Anna makes contact with British Intelligence officer Dickie Randall (Rex Harrison), who is working undercover as a singer/entertainer. Randall is duped by Marsen, who recaptures Anna and her father and transports them back to Germany. Dr. Bomasch is told he will either cooperate or Anna will return to the concentration camp. Randall volunteers to go to Germany, undercover as a Nazi, to retrieve Anna and Bomasch. He comes up with several comic ploys, including pretending to seduce Anna. Though he is nearly successful, all three plus Marsen and some Nazi guards wind up on an overnight train to Munich.

Though entertaining in its own right, there are several things about Night Train to Munich that make it particularly noteworthy. First, it is a WWII film actually filmed during the war, in the early days of the first wave of real British terror. Because the film was shot in 1940, there is no real sense of conclusion to the events, even though there is technically a happy ending to the film. The air of unease, unhappiness, and fear is palpable in the film, even when the characters are making jokes about their plight. Second, it actually shows a few scenes from a concentration camp and the terrible plight of the prisoners, who are mistreated, beaten, and overworked -- though the film neglects to mention the Nazi war on Jews and the camp within the film seems to house non-specific political prisoners.

Also, it stars two of wartime cinema's best actors, Rex Harrison and Paul Henreid. Most famous for his roles in Casablanca and Now, Voyager, Henreid is always a joy to watch. He left Austria and Germany in '35 to go to Britain. When the war began in earnest he was almost deported, but the great Conrad Veidt spoke up for him and he went on to co-star, as a Nazi, in Night Train to Munich. I bet that was a bitter pill -- many German and Eastern European actors who fled to English-speaking territories suffered the same plight -- but it certainly made his career and allowed him to move on to Hollywood and stardom.

Rex Harrison has always been one of my favorite actors, as I grew up watching The Ghost and Mrs. Muir, My Fair Lady, and Dr. Dolittle. He is charming, saucy, and sarcastic, and usually plays witty male leads in romantic dramas, though he could also throw down some serious acting skills and spent most of his life with an active career in theater that far out-lived his cinematic presence. The unusual thing about his role as Dickie Randall is that it was written as a male romantic lead, but there is no romance in the film. There is definitely an implied undercurrent, as well as jokes about trysts and sexual tension, but his relationship with Anna is resolved with a hug, not a kiss. Though this is probably due to the dark tone the war in Europe cast over British subjects during this time, the lack of romantic resolution gives the film a more depressing and hopeless sense at its conclusion.

Aside from everything I've already mentioned there are Nazis, funny British people, comedy, danger, trains, and spies. Charters and Caldicott, the British comedy duo played by Naunton Wayne and Basil Radford from The Lady Vanishes, and other films of the period, also appear in the second half of the film, providing some much needed comic relief. There is also one of my favorite lines in a WWII drama, which you will understand when you see the film: "This is a fine country we live in."

Criterion released a restored transfer of Night Train to Munich a few months ago and this is obviously the version you want to buy. My only complaint is that it has fewer special features than I would have liked. Surely Criterion could have cooked up more about the film, This film comes highly recommended, particularly if you love WWII films, Carol Reed, Rex Harrison, movies set on trains, or watch Turner Classic Movies all the time. That channel is where I first saw this film and it is surely part of that classic oldie oeuvre. Also, I can't get enough of train films for some reason. It must be that whole pressure cooker scenario.