SEVEN DAYS TO NOON: Blu-ray (London Films, 1950) Kino Lorber
Revered by critics, but under-performing at the box office, and, co-directed
by brothers, John and Roy Boulting, Seven Days to Noon (1950) is a
harrowing post-war thriller. The picture stars Barry Jones in a marvelously
sustained and low-key performance as scientist, Prof. Willingdon, whose misguided
pacifism – stealing a nuclear warhead from the fictional Wallingford Research
Center to convince the British government to cease their atomic weapons
program, leads to a harrowing countdown for clues as to his sudden
disappearance and the darker purpose of his mission. Based on Fernando Josseau’s
page-turner, Un Nazi en Manhattan, transposing the action from New York
to London leads to a showdown between Willingdon and Scotland Yard’s Special
Branch Detective Superintendent, Folland (André Morell). As a thriller, Seven
Days to Noon heralds from a curious epoch in the 20th century, buffeted
by uncertainty. After the Americans dropped their bombs on Hiroshima and
Nagasaki, a proliferation of atomic-themed spy thrillers and sci-fi movies began
to infiltrate the popular culture; their anxiety-inducing anthems, anted up by
the Russians, having built their own competing doomsday devices and – presumably
– unafraid to use them, thus, to kick-start the Cold War. Seven Days to Noon
is an early entry into this panic-stricken new age of storytelling, where human
fallibility could ostensibly be proven with just a careless push of the button –
the age of modern warfare officially entering its first decade in promoting a worldwide
apocalypse. And thus, pop culture embraced, with grim trepidation, the possibility that ‘the end’ was a lot nearer than originally anticipated.
Some 70 years on, nations are still grappling with the ‘fallout’ from this
perpetually seesawing arms race, although much has since changed to suggest a nuclear
holocaust is no longer at the forefront of mankind’s collective concerns about
self-preservation.
Seven Days to Noon features a stellar British cast. Aside: I shudder to
think of the dearth Hollywood might have suffered if not for WWII – the mass
exodus of Brit-based talent (Alfred Hitchcock, Elizabeth Taylor, Roddy
McDowell, Rex Harrison, David Niven, Cary Grant, Basil Rathbone, Ronald Colman,
and on and on) to ‘the colonies’, resulting in an immeasurable endowment on
this side of the pond. The British thespians who remained in England during and
after the war were certainly no less gifted or honed in their craft. And
indeed, Seven Days to Noon contains some of the nation’s top-flight
entertainers of their time. I always marvel at the complete and seemingly
effortless accomplishment of the Brits. Even ‘walk on’ parts are stocked
with players who could be counted upon to carry the whole load. But the picture
rests squarely on the capable shoulders of Barry Jones, the unassuming and
physically slight, Guernsey-born charmer who would, in his later career,
migrate to America and appear in such high-profile American fare as Brigadoon
(1954), and Demetrius and the Gladiators (1954). Herein, Jones brings a
congenial air to his otherwise demented progressivism; having diligently committed
to the bomb, but more recently done an about-face because he perceives no good
can come of an invention – even, as a fail-safe in peace time, expressly to
ensure no opposing nation ever attack his native Britain.
The ballast in Jones’ monumentally satisfying ‘invisible’ performance
(indeed, he all but vanishes into the background) is counterbalanced by André
Morell’s more self-involved and high-profile turn as Folland. Indeed, unlike
Jones, Morell (whose real name – Mesritz – he changed after turning
professionally to acting in 1934) would have the more ‘glamorous’ career, turning
to character parts in American movies late in his tenure, and appearing in such
classics as The Bridge on the River Kwai (1957) and Ben-Hur
(1959). His appearance in Hammer’s version of The Hound of the Baskervilles
(1959) did much to clutter up his resume with a spate of schlock-horror
throughout the 1960’s, although he did reemerge to prominence in Stanley Kubrick’s
Barry Lyndon (1975) – made just 3 years before his untimely death from
lung cancer. Morell’s early career involved honing his skills in Shakespearean
stagecraft at the Old Vic; The Daily Mail positively gushing in their praise,
concluding “…from his stage and screen performances we know him already as
an eminently dependable actor, but last night he became a spectacular actor.”
Between these superb actors is sandwiched a fine turn from Hugh Cross as
Willingdon’s assistant, Stephen Lane; Cross, an actor whose entire career –
save listing of his credits on IMDB – has been all but expunged from the public
record, or rather, relegated to the annals of time without further fanfare – a shame,
indeed. Cross’s performance in Seven Days to Noon is that of the male beauty
and potential love interest to Willingdon’s naïve daughter, Ann (Sheila Manahan
in an amiable performance that, like Cross’s, is overshadowed, as the
screenplay by James Bernard, Roy Boulting, Paul Dehn and Frank Harvey leaves
little for any genuine involvement regarding their burgeoning romance, save a
winsome glance here and a cordial peck on the cheek. Nevertheless, Cross and
Manahan are cleverly cast, and, despite the limitations in their parts, still manage
to strike indelible impressions as, ostensibly, ‘the up and coming’ generation –
alas, bit players, never to become stars.
Seven Days to Noon begins in earnest in the ‘then’ present: British Prime
Minister (Ronald Adam) taking a threatening letter from Professor Willingdon very
seriously. Convening his cabinet, the PM appoints Det. Superintendent Folland to
pursue the case against Willingdon, who, having toiled on Britain's atomic
weapons program at the top-secret Wallingford Research Centre, has since stolen
one of their nuclear warheads. Willingdon now holds London hostage, threatening
to detonate the device unless the government declares an immediate moratorium on
their stockpile of like-minded devices. Arriving at Wallingford (modeled on
Britain’s real-life base at Aldermaston), Folland gains a sympathetic ear from
Willingdon’s assistant, Stephen Lane, whom he recruits to help locate the
professor. A quick pitstop at the Willingdon home establishes Lane’s burgeoning
love for Ann, but also, Ann and Mrs. Willingdon’s grave concern for the
professor’s whereabouts. Meanwhile, Willingdon, toting a Gladstone bag concealing
the modest but deadly device, takes up lodgings in the home of Mrs. Peckitt
(Joan Hickson). The inquisitive harridan is perplexed by his asking for the
room for only one week, and further spooked by Willingdon’s constant pacing throughout
the night. The following morning, while on his trek about the city, Willingdon
spies a ‘wanted’ poster with his face. Hurrying back to Peckitt’s tenement, he
quickly shaves his moustache and discards his trench coat.
Meanwhile, as the days dwindle in their countdown to doomsday, Folland
implores the PM to reconvene his cabinet for the hasty evacuation of London. Rumors
of another war abound; the PM agreeing to go on the radio to alleviate panic,
but also to appeal to Willingdon to surrender before it is too late. Having
heard the broadcast, Ann – thus far kept in the dark - attends Folland in his
office to demand answers. Folland reveals the situation in its entirety and
asks for her assistance. She is likely the only person her father will listen
to. Meanwhile, having misread a news story about a ‘landlady murderer’ stalking
London, Mrs. Peckitt reports Willingdon to the police. Instead, the savvy constables
realize Peckitt’s description perfectly matches Willingdon’s and a car is sent
to pick him up. Regrettably, Willingdon, who has been out, spots the police
arriving at Peckitt’s tenement and quickly hurries away on foot before anyone
is the wiser. Driving back from police headquarters, Lane and Ann inadvertently
spot Willingdon in the crowd but fail to catch up to him.
Now, Folland begins to circulate an updated description of their suspect.
That evening, Willingdon bumps into "Goldie" Phillips (Olive Sloane);
a flirtatious old tart he earlier encountered at a pawnbroker. She invites him
out for a drink and, as he cannot return to Pickett’s, he accepts her ‘spare’
bed for the night. Unable to locate their man, the evacuation of London commences.
While troops continue their door-to-door search, Willingdon is forced to take
Goldie hostage to maintain her silence. The streets cleared, Willingdon escapes
without Goldie to a bomb-blitzed church nearby. As the troops advance,
Willingdon is discovered, praying at the church’s altar. Lane, Ann and Folland
arrive and attempt to coax the professor away from his bag. Instead, he panics,
fleeing from the church, and, is summarily executed by a nervous soldier
(Victor Maddern). With only seconds to spare, Lane defuses the bomb. A national
crisis narrowly averted, Ann and Lane exit the church together, leaving Folland
and his men to tie up the loose ends in their investigation.
Seven Days to Noon is a sad and sobering hybrid drama onto which
elements of the spy/thriller have been successfully grafted. The screenplay
divides its time rather effectively, between the machinations of a standard police
procedural and melodrama of a close-knit family saga, culminating in the chase
for the man with the face. By all accounts, Prof. Willingdon was one of the
most brilliant minds in service of the national defense, and a loving and
devoted father besides. That he suddenly suffers an ill-advised epiphany and/or
breakdown for which he instigates a plot to murder hundreds of thousands,
merely to prove his pacifist’s point, elevates this tragedy to near
Shakespearean portions. Willingdon is not the villain of this piece. Indeed, as
far as he is concerned, technology is. But Barry Jones draws out our empathy,
rather than our contempt. The evolution of Prof. Willingdon’s flawed plan
creates a bitter disconnect between such evil and our perceptions of evil
itself. Wherein lies the fault? In Willingdon’s desire to punctuate his quest
for peace or in the manhunt to preserve the very policies and purposes – not to
mention, technologies – further to perpetuate the uncertainties of life, as
well as the perils of more war? John
Addison’s sparse underscore and Gilbert Taylor’s detailed B&W
cinematography establish period, as well as a moodily unsettling atmosphere.
Most of the picture is shot on location, revealing the gritty remnants of a
still bombed out London; the very destiny Willingdon desires to prevent. In the final analysis, Seven Days to Noon
is a deft drama, surely to please.
Seven Days to Noon arrives on Blu-ray via Kino Lorber’s alliance with
Studio Canal. And while the image exhibits a startling amount of refinement –
indeed, all but a handful of shots exhibit subtly nuanced grain, texturing and
exquisite amounts of fine detail, what’s here is not without its shortcomings.
Chief concern is image stabilization. There is a considerable amount of oft
distracting gate weave and telecine wobble, resulting in a swaying back and
forth, and, on occasion, an ever-so-slight strobe of fine details. There is also
some prominent age-related tears and other damage baked into the image, causing
the frame to jump and pitch from left to right and/or up and down. When these
inconsistencies do not appear, what is here is mostly pleasing to the
eye and razor-sharp to boot. A hint of untoward digital sharpening is detected,
but again, not to egregious levels. Grain is perfectly realized. Gray scale
tonality is superb. The 1.0 DTS mono is adequate with crisp dialogue, minus
vintage hiss and pop. Curious for a Kino release: no extras – not even an audio
commentary. Bottom line: Seven Days
to Noon is well worth a second glance. Alas, this Blu-ray is not without
its shortcomings. Judge and buy accordingly.
FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)
3.5
VIDEO/AUDIO
3.5
EXTRAS
0
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