The Bespoke Overcoat

An elderly clothing store worker asks his boss if he could have a new coat to replace his old battered worn-out garment. He is denied this one wish by his cold hearted boss and so asks his tailor friend if he could make him one instead. His friend agrees to make one for cost only but, sadly, the old man is soon thereafter fired from his job and quickly dies of pneumonia. He returns as a ghost to his friend and they steal a coat from the shop, one that he considered his right given his many years of loyal service.

This short was directed by Jack Clayton, who would go on to helm important films such as The Innocents (1961), another film about ghosts although coming from an entirely different place. This small-scale movie actually went on to win an Oscar for best short film. It is very well executed with very good acting by all involved. It packs an emotional punch too, with its simple story about friendship and loyalty handled in a way that never goes for over sentimentalism and achieves its objectives by more subtle means. The moment when the old man disappears into the darkness is really a very sad moment indeed and it is done so simply yet so poignantly. A very good example of what can be achieved in the short film format.

First, Wolf Mankowitz could write. Just about the worst thing he ever wrote was "a kid for two farthings" and that was pretty good. This was the best thing he ever wrote.

Second, both Alfie Bass and David Kossoff acted brilliantly and must have been cast by a genius.

Third, the Director also knew what he was about. He shot the film straight down the middle and didn't waste a frame.

I suppose I must have seen it for the one and only time getting on for fifty years ago. I still remember some of the lines - "Flying jackets? In these jackets you can fly?" - and the ghost of Fender refusing to walk through the wall because he "felt silly".

Didn't somebody get nominated for an Oscar?

The one and only time I saw "The Bespoke Overcoat" (TBO) was during the summer of 1957. I had gone into the Waverly Theater in N.Y., in Greenwich Village, to catch some AC and a double feature I was told by my trendy friends "not to miss." I can't remember what the other films were, but I haven't forgotten some of the visual details of TBO in nearly 50 years.

The film opened with a long, drawn-out, circular pan approach to a bed. The black and white film was grainy. A spotlight shone from above making a cone of light. Someone was singing the Aramaic chant for the dead. A man is on the bed. He is dead or dying. Another man is chanting the Kaddish over him. And this is the opening. I was riveted to my seat. My eyes were wide as if held open by some Lon Chaney contraption. My heart didn't break, yet, as it would when the story finally spun out. But, as a seventeen year old, I knew this was an artful film, that the cinematography alone was outstanding.

Then the "play" began, explaining how this man lived and died. I had sometime before read, or seen on TV, a dramatization of a Sholom Alechem short story about the world's most righteous man's death. That was set in heaven and all the angels, seraphim, cherubim, arch-angels, etc. were discussing what they ought do to mark the arrival of the world's most holy man. And when he came, this small, shy man, they badgered him with questions about what he might like: a performance by the heavenly band of musicians? a banquet? what? And he answered, "All I'd like might be a hot roll and a little butter. If it's not too much trouble."

So TBO was something like this other story. You couldn't say that the one influenced the other; but, they did have their similarities. Of course, being Russian in its origins, there were surreal elements to the visual setting of TBO. But these were less than I imagined when I got to read "The Overcoat" in a collection of Russian stories. In this film, "The Bespoke Overcoat," writer Wolf Mankowitz managed to incorporate elements of Gogol (its author), plus a little Sholom Alechem into the script, and director Jack Clayton put it all together in an unforgettable cinematic style that was so moving I've remembered it vividly since 1957, which makes it among the most memorable films I've ever seen. And today, 2007, I get misty remembering how little Fender endured his final agony.

I have searched for a place to purchase a copy of this film to no avail. My quest did lead me to the British Film Institute, or BFI, who seem to have the only known copy of the film. But they can not issue copies because they do not hold the copyright. The copyright is held by Granada. If IMDb can be cajoled into getting the permission from Granada, they might be able to make reasonably priced DVD copies of this film, one of the best short films ever. If you're reading this, you know what to do.

Max Dudious

If you've ever had one of those curious dreams in which you're matter-of-factly discussing with a dead friend or relative who's absence you've been feeling the fact of them having passed over, Jack Clayton's version of the story by Gogol will have an eerie resonance anticipating the deceptively corporeal ghosts that so troubled Miss Giddens in his later 'The Innocents'.

Celebrated British fantasy short from an equally famous source, a story by the great Russian novelist Nikolai Gogol which has been filmed several times (I own two other adaptations myself: the 1952 Italian version and a 1954 TV program also made in Britain: interestingly, both of these had served as dramatic showcases for comic stars i.e. Renato Rascel and Buster Keaton[!] respectively). For the record, yet another acclaimed cinematic rendition of the tale is the Russian one from 1959.

In the case of the film under review, however, the essentially low-key handling benefits tremendously from the presence of character actors in the central roles (and also by emphasizing their Jewishness): Alfie Bass – some of his mannerisms here would be reprised in Roman Polanski’s horror spoof THE FEARLESS VAMPIRE KILLERS (1967)! – is the poor and meek clerk, who wishes to own an overcoat that would shield him from the cold environment at his workplace (ironically, a textile business), and David Kossoff the modest but “Number One” tailor he entrusts with the task.

Actually, the film begins with Bass’ funeral – and Kossoff buries the coat with him, the former having died (of a broken heart from being sacked) before it was completed. Subsequently, the tailor is visited by the ghost of the clerk – recounting the animosity with his employer, how the ownership of the overcoat became a question of dignity and pride, how he lost his job and ensuing lonesome death. Bass, however – who feels spited, having been shown no gratitude for the service he diligently rendered for so long – asks Kossoff to accompany him to the shop intending to ‘abscond’ with a piece of expensive fabric (finally settling on a sheepskin coat).

Director Clayton boldly chose to treat ghost stories with the same level of realism accorded to a gritty drama (see also THE INNOCENTS [1961], on whose R2 SE DVD this short was thankfully made available) and for which he employed cinematographer Wolfgang Suschitsky (especially effective are the transitions from the present to Bass’ recollections and back again) and composer Georges Auric (who supplies a lovely score). The end result – which emerged both an Oscar and Venice Film Festival winner – is fascinating and virtually flawless, ensuring its solid reputation (for a short subject) among cineastes.