Although I would not quite go as far as Halliwell in listing "Green For Danger" among my top 100, I have to confess to a certain affection for this rather old-fashioned whodunit of 1946. Made in the days when repertory theatre flourished and railway carriages were full of passengers reading Agatha Christie rather than Harry Potter, it captures the very essence of what my grandchildren now refer to as "the olden days". Although based on a novel by the almost forgotten Christianna Brand, it has many of the hallmarks of a good Christie - murder in a hospital operating theatre, six suspects, second murder of of one of them who claims to know the killer's identity, a near re-enactment of the original crime to trap the murderer. Admittedly the film now shows its age. It is very much a studio bound production with backdrops including a painted village church spire. One actual country lane was used but nothing else as far as I can remember. Launder and Gilliat wrote intelligent scripts and directed and produced competently but their work was no match for what Lean and Reed were producing around the same time. A physical scuffle between the two male suspects has a staginess that would not have got past even an American B-movie director. However there are three features that lift what could have been a third-rate work into the realm of the "special". The first is the plot itself that manages to intrigue to the end - obviously a very good choice from among the innumerable whodunits of the period. The second is how good it is in evoking a very atmospheric period of our history - the near-final stage of the war when we were menaced by those quite terrifying "doodlebugs", the ominous drone of their flight, the sudden silence followed by their dreadful explosion. However for a film like this to work you have to have a really memorable detective of the likes of Poirot or Miss Marple. Alastair Sim's Inspector Cockrill is just such a creation. Sim was one of the great character actors of his time and in "Green For Danger" he never did anything finer. He brought to the role considerable subtlety. When there is no-one around he is a bundle of human weakness and self-doubt, sheltering nervously from a flying bomb, or failing to guess the murderer from a whodunit which provides his bedtime reading. However when on the job he displays a sense of professional competence that at times borders on aggression. Although he makes a serious mistake at one point we are in no doubt that, like Chabrol's Inspector Levardin, he is not a cop to be messed with, but, by letting us into his hidden weaknesses, Launder and Gilliat have given us one of British cinema's most endearing characters.
