Bulldog Jack

One of Jack Hulbert's best films, a spoof of the Bulldog Drummond series. There is little point watching Bulldog Jack if you are a fan of neither Bulldog nor Jack, but the USP of this film is that it doesn't play fast and loose with the thriller elements. It works pretty well as a Drummond film, and the first reel could easily have been transplanted from any of the others, as the crooks try to sabotage Drummond's car. Jack Hulbert steps in with his immense amateur enthusiasm and endless self-belief, immune to any doubts about his detective ability despite setback after setback; this confidence was Hulbert's trademark, and in any of his films you knew it would get him the girl, eventually. Smart dialogue peppers most scenes, particularly the early scene in Drummond's flat where Hulbert tries to make sense of the mysterious goings-on: "who is this man Santini, and why doesn't he know what he's done?" Claude Hulbert steps in as Algy, perennial 'silly ass' of the Drummond films, a clever piece of casting which allows brother Jack a confidante who will not outshine him, however dim he is being; Claude's finest moment is in the climactic scenes on the underground. Ralph Richardson is a somewhat eccentric master villain (with bizarre hair and a "filthy hat"), and Fay Wray as the love interest plays it entirely straight, which was probably wise.

For the aficionado of either Bulldog or Jack, this is a great picture. It is one of Hulbert's best (he was always a stage star), and it's better than most straight Drummonds. This is at least partly because the thriller elements are taken seriously. The most obvious sign of this is that there are no songs in the film, still less dancing. Even in Jack's the Boy, in contrast, Hulbert gives himself a couple of charming numbers. The self-restraint pays off in spades here.

Released in the U.S. as 'Alias Bulldog Drummond', Bulldog Jack is just about the only one of a long series of patriotic Jack Hulbert comedies to survive the test of time and still be entertaining without being somewhat alien today.

The past is another country, so they say, and this piece of the past seems to have another London Underground system.

The film is very ably directed by Walter Forde, the former silent comedian who directed Rome Express and three other Hulbert comedies. It has a witty script by J.O.C. Orton, Sidney Gilliat and Gerard Fairlie, worked humorously around the serious 'Sapper' characters created by H.C. McNeile.

There is some gorgeous early film noir photography by Mutz Greenbaum on excellent sets of the British Museum and tunnels and an abandoned station on London's 'Central' Underground Line built at the Gaumont British studios at Shepherd's Bush (which just happened to be on the Central Line).

They changed the names of stations in the film to fictitious ones (though, oddly, later expansion of the real Central Line adopted two of the station names from the film) but there was a genuine closed 'Museum' station (called Bloomsbury in the film) which I can remember seeing the abandoned platforms of while passing from Tottenham Court Road to Holborn on the Central Line back in the '60s. It's not visible now. I've looked.

However, the idea for the film is said to have come from writer J.O.C. Orton noticing the abandoned Brompton Road station on the Piccadilly Line. Still, there are such a lot of abandoned stations in London that it could have been any one of them.

The film is remarkable for an incredibly eccentric performance by Ralph Richardson in the role of the master criminal Morelle, and as being the first of a number of British films that American star Fay Wray appeared in without ever being asked to scream once. In this film she looks simply beautiful - as ever - in some very beautiful clothes not suited at all to adventures in elevator shafts and tunnels. But her clothes never seem to get dirty once – which is how it should be.

There is also amusingly able support from Jack Hulbert's brother Claude as bumbling upper-class twit Algy Longworth - a role he seemed born for with his cartoon mouth and flappy ears.

In part we have to thank producer Michael Balcon for the film being so watchable today as he was the only British producer at the time inclined to apply high production values to comedies.

But we must also thank German expatriate Alfred Junge, who had designed for British silent classic Piccadilly, and who would go on to work with Powell and Pressburger on The Canterbury Tale, Colonel Blimp and A Matter of Life and Death (US title: Stairway to Heaven).

His stunning work is really only let down by the occasional use of models which are a little less than convincing but quite acceptable in the spirit of a very silly film which abandons reality fairly early on.

It is perhaps best to see this film in its very crisp Super 8 version, which, at only one hour long, disposes of the tedious, unfunny and dated dialogue scenes at the beginning of the full feature to leap right into the action with an impressive and dangerous accident on The Devil's Bend.

The somewhat aboriginal fight scene in the British Museum is beautifully crafted and well worth seeing, and I am still pondering over how many takes there must have been to get the boomerangs to perform precisely as well as they did.

The film has a very exciting climax on the Central Line (which at the time hadn't extended quite as far west as the film takes it) but I shall not spoil the ending for you by saying any more than that.

Have seen this film several times now and generally chuckle/grin/smile most all of the way through. Always enjoy seeing the Underground and the British Museum settings again. Excellent "escapist" antidote to today's generally depressive "gloom and doom" national atmosphere. These days, I feel we need more of this type of film and less of the kind that's too light on dialogue and too heavy on violence and special effects.

I'm constantly amazed at the inventiveness of 1930s detective stories. The genre was still being formed and all sorts of crazy narrative techniques were being tried. Most failed of course or even if they hit, they weren't rich enough to be developed and therefore died as well.

The Bulldog Drummond franchise was one of the most successful of the era, and also one that had the most experimentation, compared for example with Chan or Holmes. In this edition, the crooks hide behind false identities and motives. The criminal plan is to create a deceptive object. So there are already two "false identities" involved. This film adds a third: the series detective has a surrogate who operates in his name.

It doesn't work for me. Probably didn't at the time, except to provide a way to introduce "British" humor. But its a clever idea, huh?

Ted's Evaluation -- 1 of 3: You can find something better to do with this part of your life.

The same year that BULLDOG DRUMMOND STRIKES BACK (1934) emerged from Hollywood, Britain supplied its own adventure for the character (incarnated by Ralph Richardson) created by H.C. "Sapper" McNeile, namely THE RETURN OF BULLDOG DRUMMOND – in which he was pitted, as in the 1929 BULLDOG DRUMMOND, against his frequent antagonist Carl Peterson. A year later, a spoof (note my review of STRIKES BACK, which was itself something of a lampoon!) was produced – also in Britain – and, interestingly, Richardson here changed sides and essayed the chief villain role!

Anyway, the narrative – on which the author was himself involved! – begins with the real Drummond, played by one Atholl Fleming, being put out of action after he has promised leading lady Fay Wray (in a brief U.K. stint) his help; partly to blame for this indisposition, star Jack Hulbert – pining for the thrills that are Drummond's bread-and-butter – requests to offer his services but, when he comes face to face with Wray, decides to take the case (since he had been asked by the sleuth himself to temporarily impersonate him!). Also on hand is Drummond's sidekick Algy (played by Hulbert's younger brother Claude!), who is against their getting involved further…but, when the heroine is kidnapped, he joins "Bulldog Jack" (incidentally, the film was bafflingly retitled ALIAS BULLDOG DRUMMOND for the U.S.!) in pursuit.

As it turns out, this is guilty of the same criticism with respect to plot that I leveled at the Ronald Colman vehicles which preceded its viewing: Wray is in the care of a grandfather, whose forgery skills are sought by Richardson in order to replace the jewels adorning the statue of an Indian goddess inside the British Museum. While Jack Hulbert does not make for the most sympathetic lead (he had earlier starred in another highly-regarded, but unfortunately only partially available, comedy-thriller by the same director: the 1931 version of THE GHOST TRAIN, whose remake – also by Forde! – made 10 years later I own and have reviewed), the film maintains a good balance between delivering laughs and creating suspense. Also notable here are the settings – as mentioned, the climax occurs in the British Museum (to where the criminals gain access through the lid of an ancient tomb!), while Richardson's hide-out is in a disused branch of the London Underground (he even escapes by assuming control of a train, but is naturally routed by the intrepid hero) – and the editing (including judicious use of overlapping dialogue and cross-cutting).

To get back to THE RETURN OF BULLDOG DRUMMOND for a minute, I chose not to watch it at this juncture because I have a few more of the character's adventures (from his Hollywood run of B-movies) to go through – and, in any case, the three I did check out had earned a spot on the "Wonders In The Dark" poll of the all-time top 3000 films (even if I do not agree with its ranking this the highest)