Milhões Como Nós

When World War II breaks out, one working class family (The Crowson's) find themselves playing their part in the war effort. Dad joins the war effort, elder daughter Celia signs up to serve and youngest daughter Elsie is to work in a factory. While the two daughters try to fit in where they are placed, it is Elsie that takes to the working class labour better, even thought some of her colleagues from the upper classes don't fit in as well. Meanwhile, back at home, Dad finds the battle against dishes and housework to be even more of a challenge than the battle against the Hun.

Although it is clearly a propaganda film in essence, this wartime drama is quite interesting for not being as simplistic as some of its peers. In this family drama we don't really have a message pushed that hard but are instead left to draw out own warmth from a narrative that has a surprising amount about class within it. In this regard it does produce some interesting threads although those looking back for sharp comment will not find it because this is still a melodrama with a propaganda edge. As such it is a bit plodding at times but I still quite enjoyed it for what it was although I can understand why some viewers have found it a bit dull and lacking in sharpness.

The cast are pretty good with the material. Roc and Dunn give good if unspectacular turns as the daughters while Marriott provides a working class comic relief to proceedings as the father. Te support cast features good work from Jackson, Crawford and others but the performances are not as good as I would have liked just because the script doesn't cut as deep as it could have – although perhaps understandably so.

Overall then a solid wartime melodrama with the heavy propaganda scaled back to allow for a more natural and convincing story delivered with solid turns. Aside from the touch of class politics there isn't that much to set the screen on fire but it should make good as a matinée on a weekend afternoon sort of thing.

Some of Britain's best Second World War films had equivocal origins as 'suggestions' from the Ministry of Information (i.e. propaganda) under its mischievous and mysterious chief, Brendan Bracken. 'The 49th Parallel', 'The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp' and 'A Matter of Life and Death', Powell's and Pressburger's productions, were all begotten by a Whitehall daddy whose name was kept off the birth certificate.

Ditto 'Millions Like Us' by another talented duo. Launder and Gilliat, well established as scriptwriters, ventured into feature direction (the only time they took a joint credit) with this episodic and fascinating study of life on the home front.

It centres on the long, dull hiatus between the Blitz and invasion scares of 1940 and the forthcoming relief of D-Day in 1944. The propaganda purpose was to rededicate civilians who were becoming bored with the seeming stalemate: Hitler no longer menacing us, we not yet able to take the war to his camp. Women were targeted for morale-boosting. The film aimed to convince these 'millions' that their conscription into factories, often seen as unglamorous by comparison with uniformed service alongside the fighting men, was essential for victory.

Thus Patricia Roc, the shy home-keeping daughter of a domineering working class widower, dreams amusingly of heroics as a nurse or airwoman, and dreads being called up for industrial work on a production line in a strange town. But she makes friends, is good at her work, marries a nice flight-sergeant in the Royal Air Force and endures the vicissitudes that follow. Other girls from widely different social backgrounds muck in and do likewise.

So much for the uplift. Rarely has a pill been so deftly sugared, however. The scene-setting in the widower's house is an index of the film's almost obsessive determination to avoid overt uplift.

Rumours of war on the wireless are exchanged for dance music on the other channel. Patriotism does not visibly improve among the younger generation once hostilities begin. One daughter is man-mad, entertaining the troops not wisely but too well; another whose husband is serving in the Western Desert is a lazy, grumbling, neglectful mother. The old dad (Moore Marriott, gruff and unrecognisable as the antic dotard of the Will Hay classics) does his bit in the Home Guard but moans inconsolably about being 'deserted' by his daughters when the country whisks them away.

At the factory a socialite drafted to turn a lathe strikes up an uneasy friendship with her gruff northern supervisor; but he tells her she'll never be better than mediocre at the work, that she might not be good enough for his proletarian family and that he isn't ready to propose to her because they may be too different. "Ooh aye, ooh aye" she mockingly replies. This brilliantly crisp little exchange seems in retrospect to predict the bombshell Labour victory of 1945, when the people of the 'People's War' gave the upper crust its quittance and the rising technocratic class took control.

Laced with verite footage of crowds at play at the seaside or entering and leaving factories, the film plays like a fictionalised version of Humphrey Jennings's 'Spare Time' and 'Listen to Britain'-- with perhaps a conscious homage in the canteen community singing of the moving final episode. And through it runs the music of Beethoven, as if to acknowledge that the enemy has his good points: here it anticipates another Jennings classic, 'A Diary for Timothy'.

The acting, especially in the home sequences, is low-key in the same manner as Lean's 'This Happy Breed'. A far cry from the stagey histrionics of pre-war British cinema, it anticipates the naturalism of TV drama. There are no big speeches or characters, just commonplace folk muddling through. The interpolation of Naunton and Wayne, whom L&G had made a crosstalk team in 'The Lady Vanishes', is the only concession to a 1930s conception of entertainment.

Miss Roc, torn between father, duty and the dream of a domestic life, is a credible symbol of young British womanhood. Recent research, contrary to earlier feminist assertions, has established that most women were both glad to escape the parental home to aid the war effort, yet were not reluctant to become housewives once the fighting men returned. In this and other ways 'Millions Like Us' has a ring of truth absent from histrionic efforts such as Selznick's 'Since You Went Away' and retrospective looks at Riveting Rosies such as Demme's 'Swing Shift'.

That such a presentation could be achieved while the dilemmas were being experienced, and under the auspices of a government fighting total war, is a huge tribute to the integrity of the British film-making community. It remains a quietly, gradually engrossing pleasure to watch.

Millions Like Us is one of the few films made during the 2nd World War which deals with women factory workers. When Celia gets her call-up papers she wants to do something glamorous like joining the ATS. Instead she is sent to a munitions factory.

This movie is part love story and part propaganda-flic. The propaganda elements are more subtle than in many 40s films eg 'The Next of Kin'. However the life of the factory girl is glamourized. This is Celia's escape from the domestic drudgery of caring for her elderly father and allows her to find true love. Also the togetherness of the factory girls is emphasised throughout the film. The contrast between shots of Celia demure and alone that we see at the start of the film and the final scene of her as an integral part of the group is marked. Not only is munitions work vital to the war effort, we are being told, but it also provides companionship, an outlet and fulfillment for women.

A film about and for women in the workplace may sound like a step forward from the usual patriarchal portrayal of the female sex. Yet, at its heart this is a deeply conservative film. Ultimately Celia finds fulfillment with and through a man and whilst the companionship of women is important, all the female characters are searching for a husband.

However, the Directors should be applauded for having done a good job in making an enjoyable, informative propaganda film.

By the way, look out for the shots of Patricia Roc's feet when she is talking to her husband. Is this an erotic charge or fear of chilblains? Watch the movie and let us know what you think.

One of the many war effort films Britain churned out between 1940 and 1945, this one attempted to get women recruited into industry. We watch Celia as she gets her call-up and has to leave her family to work in a factory and stay in a hostel. There she meets college graduate Gwen, flighty Sloane Jenny, and common as brass Annie, amongst others. She grows to like her job, and also finds love with a Scots flyer, Fred Blake. But this being a semi-documentary war film, things don't end up as happily as you'd hope.

The cast is fine - Patricia Roc and Gordon Jackson headline as Celia and Fred, with Anne Crawford as Jenny and Eric Portman as down-to-earth foreman Charlie. There's also a bit for Radford and Wayne to do (an amusing scene where their travelling soldiers in a railway carriage get overrun with evacuees). Megs Jenkins also plays Gwen with some style and pathos. Patriotic hokum it may be, but I like the foregrounding it gives to the women (especially Jenny, who I quite like by the end of it) and the respect it gives to the factory girls and what they did for their country.

To modern sensibilities the title may sound patronising, but if you're tempted to dismiss this as standard WWII propaganda fare, think again. Set among the female workforce of a heavy engineering factory, this perceptive and thoughtful screenplay explores the disruptive effect of Total War upon family life, established behavioural norms and, crucially, the class distinctions that were still dominating British society at this time. As Time Out critic Nigel Floyd put it: "Raises pertinent questions about what exactly was being fought for: the restoration of the old order, or the foundation of a new one? Intelligent entertainment at its best."

It is also unusual for the era in its unabashed portrayal of young women as actively sexual beings with a healthy, even predatory, interest in men. The sole - and glaring - exception to this model is the central heroine, Celia. Patricia Roc's portrayal of her is so overwhelmingly timid, self-effacing and prudish, it comes as little less than miraculous that she manages to bag Fred: a young Airman in the shape of Gordon Jackson. Mind you, he's no firebrand either: together, they make an infuriatingly ineffectual couple.

Far more interesting is the spiky relationship of social opposites Jennifer (Anne Crawford) - privileged/haughty/indolent - and no-nonsense factory foreman Charlie (Eric Portman). In this pair's uneasy mutual attraction and verbal sparring we see echoes of Shakespeare's Beatrice & Benedick.

N.B.: Watch out for a lovely cameo by Irene Handl as the newlyweds' landlady.