There are a number of very good performances in this picture -- Laughton, for one (an actor who was never afraid to present himself, when necessary, as both ludicrous and repulsive, but who manages to conjure up hidden depths in the same character), but also George Sanders, who supplies a sensitive portrayal of a man who just wants everything to run smoothly... until he discovers that one cannot stop at only one betrayal. Walter Slezak channels Francis L. Sullivan ("Pimpernel Smith") in the role of a corpulent, intelligent Nazi, Philip Merivale makes a convincingly idealistic headmaster, and, unexpectedly, Una O'Conner is surprisingly effective as the hero's fierce old mother. The performance slips occasionally into more familiar grotesquerie, but the vital element of fanaticism is well conveyed: this is a mother who will do anything for what she sees as her helpless lamb, even if her ideas of what is in his best interest do not always concur with his own.
Maureen O'Hara -- so memorable as Esmeralda to Laughton's 1939 Quasimodo -- I found to be less convincing here. I'm not sure if that's the fault of the actress or the character; her delivery of lines when she discovers the truth about her brother is particularly cringe-making, alas. Kent Smith, meanwhile, is played more or less as a bland all-American hero: his best lines (and acting moments) come in the confrontation scene with George Sanders, although for most of the film it's hard to realise that the two men, so different in seniority (Sanders is a high-ranking official in charge of the whole goods yard, possibly the whole station: Smith is only a duty signalman under him, and appears at least ten years younger, although the two actors were almost the same age) and in character, are supposed to be close friends. The chase sequences involving Smith's character are successfully gripping.
But my major problem with the film is that it's just too blatantly preaching to the audience. The broad colloquial Americanisms, though they jolt in such a Continental setting, are understandable in a US-produced film aimed at the home market: but the all too obvious Hollywood-type propaganda elements damage the film by seriously wounding its plausibility. Characters make speeches that are clearly aimed at convincing the audience back home rather than at influencing their fellow-characters: the doctrine of "life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness" is preached. The moral is punched home with a sledge-hammer.
Maureen O'Hara -- so memorable as Esmeralda to Laughton's 1939 Quasimodo -- I found to be less convincing here. I'm not sure if that's the fault of the actress or the character; her delivery of lines when she discovers the truth about her brother is particularly cringe-making, alas. Kent Smith, meanwhile, is played more or less as a bland all-American hero: his best lines (and acting moments) come in the confrontation scene with George Sanders, although for most of the film it's hard to realise that the two men, so different in seniority (Sanders is a high-ranking official in charge of the whole goods yard, possibly the whole station: Smith is only a duty signalman under him, and appears at least ten years younger, although the two actors were almost the same age) and in character, are supposed to be close friends. The chase sequences involving Smith's character are successfully gripping.
But my major problem with the film is that it's just too blatantly preaching to the audience. The broad colloquial Americanisms, though they jolt in such a Continental setting, are understandable in a US-produced film aimed at the home market: but the all too obvious Hollywood-type propaganda elements damage the film by seriously wounding its plausibility. Characters make speeches that are clearly aimed at convincing the audience back home rather than at influencing their fellow-characters: the doctrine of "life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness" is preached. The moral is punched home with a sledge-hammer.