Out of the Clouds

Ealing loved its portmanteau films.If the stories are good enough eg Dead of Night then the film becomes a classic.If they are as bad as these then the film becomes instantly forgettable.None of the stories in this film is of much interest,and the love story is badly written and acted.Having seen this film before I decided to fast forward through the sequences featuring this laboured tale of romance.Therefore the only real interest is in watching a film set in an airport at the beginning of the jet age and comparing the differences to the current age of jet travel.Everything seems so stress free and controlled unlike today's environment.By the way this was definitely not a B feature.Colour was too expensive for B features in the fifties,it just feels like a B Feature.

After Ealing's 'Dead of Night', ensemble films-- sets of short stories linked by theme- caught on in Britain. And after 'Train of Events' (1949), Relph and Dearden had another bash with this pre-'Airport' (and pre-'Airplane!') compendium of tears, love and laughter set at London's Heathrow Airport. Michael Balcon eased the purse strings to permit shooting in Eastmancolour-- all those blue skies and silver speed birds-- but the cast, apart from Lorenz and the British-based American David Knight, is British Commonwealth (Robert Beattie, a Canadian, worked mainly over here) and the low-key tone is Anglo too.

'Out of the Clouds' can be seen as a continuation of the post-war 'victory against the odds' genre: uniforms, stiff upper lips, quasi-military routines with room for the odd romance or shared confidence between male pilots (officers) and subservient female stewardesses. During a sticky landing, the airport firemen standing by are shot from heroic low angles as if by Humphrey Jennings. Anthony Steel as a philandering, smuggling cockpit jockey is like the statutory bad apple in a POW camp.

But wartime memories feed into the film's inspiration in a less obvious manner. It reflects a brief surge of optimism about Britain leading the world in civil aviation.

Heathrow, though it looks like a desert here, has been operating for almost ten years. It is on its way to becoming the busiest crossroads of air travel, as well as the greatest noise pollution disaster in Europe. The central area already has its control tower and first purpose-built terminal-- a far cry from the tent city which hastily arose in 1945 after a cabal of civil servants and airline managers fooled Churchill into green lighting the forced appropriation of Middlesex's best farmland, on the pretext that the RAF needed a bigger field near London than Northolt. In the movie all the airliners are prop-driven; but De Havilland has just produced the first jet, the Comet, and its fatal metal-fatigue flaws are not yet understood.

Here on view is the half-forgotten period when passengers embarked so near the lounge that friends could wave them on board; when stewardesses, not Tannoys, addressed travellers courteously and by name; when security precautions were cursory; when BOAC and Pan Am embodied national pride; and, more fancifully, when a cabbie would give a foreign couple a tour of 'the real London' ending in his own home.

Interestingly the main plot concerns an Auschwitz survivor: very rare in film fiction 50 years ago. This Austrian orphan is diverted from marrying an elderly ex-GI in Wisconsin by meeting a young hydrologist who wants to make the desert bloom in the new Israel. Balcon seldom let his Jewishness show so clearly.

Britflick fans will enjoy plane-spotting faces such as James Robertson Justice, on the verge of Hollywood stardom in 'Land of the Pharoahs'; ever-fluttery, downtrodden Esma Cannon; Sid James, gambling on his wife's life with travel insurance; Terence Alexander, the future Charlie Hungerford of 'Bergerac', as a flight controller; Abraham Sofaer, celestial judge in 'A Matter of Life and Death', as a talkative Indian; and Bernard Lee, aka 'M', as a customs man with a nose for Steel's suitcase shenanigans.

Steel, as usual, projects suave unreliability, like a more reined-in Laurence Harvey. Twenty years later he would be outraging Corinne Cléry in 'Histoire d'O'.

After enjoying the customer care experience arriving at Stansted Airport recently I was reminded of how air travel it's magic and romance in the past sixty years. I'd first saw this film over fifty years ago and a recent showing of it on the excellent Talking Pictures channel has reminded me of what a great film this was. A typical Ealing portmanteau film with several story lines for me as a lifelong plane spotter was to see the location shots at Heathrow with the BOAC Constellations and Stratocrusers on the tarmac was truly magic. and the next time that fly with Easyjet or Ryanair I'll try to imagine that I'm flying first class with BOAC

An amusing and quaint period piece with a couple of interesting parallels with life today (holocaust references and international drug smuggling). A good cast but the true stars are BOAC's Lockheed Super Constellation and the transatlantic Boeing Stratocruiser. Objects of beauty confined to museums these days.

Later dismissed by producer Michael Relph as "a real potboiler!" Now that Ealing Studios were releasing through Rank their product was becoming far more mainstream. So top billing goes to bland fifties heartthrob Anthony Steel, flanked by a romantic piano score by Richard Addinsell and a glossy depiction in colour of activity centred on Heathrow when air travel was considered incredibly glamorous.

Strongly anticipating 'The VIPs' a few years later (in which delays caused by fog also facilitated the various plot developments concerning its large cast). Harsher recent global events are however evoked by unusually making the two young lovers played by David Knight and Margo Lorenz Jewish; him on stopover to Israel, she left alone in the world having been orphaned by the Holocaust. (While the makers quietly remind us of life's seamier side by including a fleeting subplot about drug smuggling.)