Dulcimer Street

As such, and coming from the pen of a well-to-do gentleman who ran both ITV and BBC-TV during their infancy (Norman Collins, who wrote the novel upon which the film is based), it's more than a little patronizing, though its warmth is sincere.

The film concerns the doings of various denizens of the fictional Dulcimer Street, a once-grand neighborhood now considerably frayed at the sleeve.

"All the characters in this novel are imaginary," Collins wrote. "The London of the title is real enough - that's London all right. But Dulcimer Street and the lives of the people in it, like the other lives which cross with theirs, are all fictitious. And so are the various Funlands, cafés, Sprititualist Societies, agencies, hospitals and institutions, with which the story deals." The story concerns the true urban dwellers, Collin informs us: "plenty of real Londoners who sleep the night in London as well as work the day there - some in love, some in debt, some committing murders, some adultery, some trying to get on in the world, some looking forward to a pension, some getting drunk, and some holding up a new baby. This is about a few of them." At the center of the hubbub is a retired gentleman, pensioned off to get "a pound a week for doing nothing," his long-suffering wife who pines for a suburban cottage, and their attractive daughter of marriageable age. The young lady has two suitors, one Percy Boon (Attenborough), a young man of flexible morals (we know he is an "at-risk" youth from his first frame, as he is shown reading a comic book -- a notorious corrupter of the age), the other a police officer. Aside from the police officer, everyone this little family knows is unsavory; the criminal Attenborough, the con-man Sim, the venal, man-hungry widow Joyce Carey, the tramp St. Helier, and their Uncle Henry (Stephen Murray), a communist agitator.

Collins seems to grant that crime, suffering and unequal justice are the inescapable lot of the less privileged, but Uncle Henry's political buffoonery is there to let us know that radical politics are not his aim.

This environment, and the film's plot primarily concerning Attenborough's slippery slope to criminality, has the seeds of noir, but what springs from those seeds is half domestic drama, half screwball comedy.

It's clear early on that Collins forgives all of his characters for both their willful sins and their hapless mistakes. If you aren't too annoyed by the patronizing noblesse oblige of the author, you'll find yourself having a good time and perhaps, like myself, sufficiently curious about the characters to seek out the novel (five pounds, used, at Amazon.UK)

It's all about a house and its tenants of very variable kinds, the last one moving in being a confused spiritualist somehow falling out of everything (Alastair Sim in an unforgettable character, later copied by Alec Guinness in "Ladykillers"), while the main character is Richard Attenborough as a young irresponsible luck-seeker without any luck, courting the daughter of the house while his former mistress won't leave him alone, which leads to the tragedy. The house becomes a web of intrigue and complications, the different destinies interlacing each other, leading to confusions and further tragedies - Alastair Sim is really the unluckiest of them all. A fabulous gallery of colorful actors, Stephen Murray and a young Hugh Griffith making a surprise entrance towards the end is just two of them, the idyll develops into a spectacular drama finally involving all London. It's a wonderful story with great warmth and empathy with its characters, almost like a documentary. Unfortunately I haven't read the novel, which should be even better. This is a must see for grass-root people, environmentalists, humanitarians and all defenders of the small people of narrow circumstances and humble conditions, making out the great majority of the ordinary harmless core of humanity.

The quaint, dated elements of old British, black and white, post-war films are just my cup of tea.

Intimate insights into the lives of a disparate group of characters, forced to tolerate each other, is the sort of thing only the British do expertly.

Numerous familiar players all excel in their respective roles with stand-outs being Alistair Sim, Joyce Carey, Fay Compton and Richard Attenborough whose convincing portrayal of a terrified good boy gone wrong is palpable.

Great atmospheric music, photography and narration, along with the acting, make this a priceless gem of a film.

If , like me, you love the plays of Terence Rattigan then "London Belongs to Me" belongs to you too.

A brilliant performance from Wylie Watson,with fine back-up from Alistar Sim and Faye Compton. The only downside to the film is the poker faced performances from Dickie boy and the other younger actors.Wylie Watson should have been knighted for his services in bringing tears to a glass eye.

Good but not great story of group of characters living in a London boarding house in 1938. The story begins well and then starts to meander all over the place with the ending so weird that it borders on the surreal. Standout performances by Alastair Sim, right around the time of A Christmas CAROL, and Faye Compton as the widow he entrances. Hugh Griffith pops in late in the film to chew the scenery and bring a few chuckles. The cinematography is good and a nightmare sequence reminds one of DEAD OF NIGHT. There is a warmth about the film, one that was made in 1948 and looks back at London ten years earlier, that should appeal to all Londoners as well as Anglophiles around the world. A good film for a rainy afternoon with a"cuppa" and a scone.