(Charles Crichton, UK 1947, 82 min., 35mm nitrate)
Print source: Nasjonalbiblioteket / The National Library of Norway – Film and Broadcasting, Oslo, Norway
As with “MGM Musical” or “RKO Noir,” “Ealing Comedy” doesn’t simply denote a type of film made at a certain studio. Instead, the term conjures something unique, a genre picture that’s more than the sum of its conventions but whose essence can be tricky to capture. “Very sly and very dry,” said Leonard Maltin of the Ealing Comedy. “Rebellion,” offered Martin Scorsese. “But very quiet, very gentle.” And by any reckoning, very British—so British that some critics would later ponder whether the Ealing Comedy was the closest the UK came to having a national cinema.
Ironically, of the ninety-five features produced at Ealing during its “Golden Age”—the twenty or so years spent under producer Michael Balcon, who transformed Ealing from a small-s studio into a Studio in the Hollywood mold, albeit in miniature—fewer than thirty were comedies. But what comedies! The Man in the White Suit (1951), The Lavender Hill Mob (1951), The Ladykillers (1955), and above all, Kind Hearts and Coronets (1949). Hardly the first comedy to be produced at the long-standing facilities in Ealing Green, Hue and Cry is considered to be the inaugural “Ealing Comedy.” Visually, however, it may have more in common with the contemporary Italian Neorealism of Germany Year Zero (1948) than, say, Whiskey Galore! (1949). The adventures of our young hero (Harry Fowler), who is convinced the plots devised by an eccentric comic-book writer (Alastair Sim) predict real-life crimes, take him and his gang down London’s actual Blitz-scarred streets and into their impoverished flats.
This documentary-style grittiness was entirely by design. Determined to bring a greater degree of realism to Ealing’s earlier wartime product, Balcon had poached a few documentary filmmakers—Harry Watt and Alberto Calvacanti chief among them—from the Crown Film Unit (formerly the pioneering GPO Film Unit), and their influence would prove transformative on the postwar Ealing style. The rough edges would eventually smooth, the tone would darken, and Balcon and company would produce ever more clever films. Few, however, would feel as uninhibited and flat-out fun as Hue and Cry.
This Czech release print replaces the original opening credit sequence with Czech-language titles. While the shrinkage is moderate (0.65%–0.8%), the number of splices (170) made preparation of this print a challenge.
– Ken Fox