The Gilded Cage

That was one of the few John Gilling's films that still miss in my collection. The other which I don't have ones are probably comedies or features that I search not very hard. I saw all his horror, adventure and crime movies. This one is not the best ever directed by him. Pure routine crime flick, with an American fly-boy - military guy - played by Alex Nicol who tries to find a murderer...

Nearly a sleepy story for me who likes unusual tales, or action packed ones in replacement of a certain originality. Not a bad movie either. But lost in an ocean of billions of ones very like. Just a rare film from a famous UK director, who would deserve to be shown more often in film libraries all over the world. I found many good features among those he made: MAN INSIDE, TIGER BY THE TAIL, VOICE OF MERRIL, PICK UP ALLEY, and I talk here only of the crime flicks; well not them all.

Don't miss it, although...

"The Gilded Cage" is an invaluable portrait of some legendary lady supposed to have been painted by Degas, while he of course never painted such a portrait. The thriller intrigue is spun around this portrait, which some rogues plan to steal from its well established gallery, but of course such a theft could never be accomplished without help from the inside. Some ladies are involved, and the American Harry is involved with one of the ladies, who tries to warn him to stay out of the racket. His brother (Alex Nicol, a bit like Dennis O'Keefe) arrives from the states to find his brother vanished. When he tries to get a clue of how to find him from the actress his girl-friend, she gets murdered, and so the mess keeps developing with more murderous attempts, kidnappings, fisticuffs and all kinds of intrigues and atrocities, until the brother finally gets shot, and then you don't hear of him again, although he is said to still be living. It's an ordinary thriller with interesting London settings trying to muddle up the intrigue to puzzle the audience, and finally things get sorted out. The most interesting actors are Ursula Howells and Elwyn Brook-Jones, who both get murdered, and Clifford Evans, but the best thing in the film is the music by Stanley Black. The smiling man Ronan O'Casey adds some creepy spice to the intrigues but isn't the most dangerous man in the plot.

The cool title is a bit wasted here, since it applies to a stolen portrait (as usual handled rather roughly during the course of the film despite it's supposedly great value) rather than, say, a night club (as in Ealing Studios' 'Cage of Gold' a few years earlier).

There are nice views of locations in London and along the Thames. Clifford Evans and Elwyn Brooke-Jones are given a moustache and a beard to make them look creepier. Veronica Hurst and Ursula Howells are both glamorous in that severe, buttoned-down way characteristic of the female leads in fifties British 'B' pictures.

Quite an unremarkable crime caper that sees the theft of a valuable portrait - quite a smudged one at that - of an un-named woman. Poor old "Harry" (Michael Alexander) is front and centre on the suspects list, but luckily his beefcake brother "Steve" (Alex Nicol) arrives from the US just in time to look into these shenanigans. Any art historian would have conniptions at the manner in which this supposedly priceless work of art is handled - especially at the end when the cunning deception is cleverly exposed. What budget there was went on Nicol's air fare - the rest of the thing is seriously basic with pretty banal dialogue and though the principle of the conclusion is quite quirky, the execution is a bit shoddy. By no means the worst film ever made by John Gilling, but it's twenty minutes too long and the love interest from a very matronly looking Veronica Hurst ("Marcia") just clutters up the pace.

Here we are again in the Fifties' world of trench-coats and trilbies and another American with a brother gone astray in London. A situation shared by John Gilling's earlier and more successful THREE STEPS TO THE GALLOWS, but THE GILDED CAGE suffers from a contrived plot which is hard to follow in places, with inconsistences in the character of its chief villain. Much to enjoy however including Stanley Black's apposite and resonant score, and Monty Berman's photography including London locations. Also the polished performance from Clifford Evans who appears to be enjoying himself whatever he may have thought of the script, while Ursula Howells, sadly to disappear early on, suggests as usual someone made of flesh and blood beneath those severely tailored outfits.