Sapphire

I was amazed by the shocking brutality of the racism in this film. In America, we are rarely presented with such casual racism; in films of the 50s, race is practically never dealt with in films, as Todd Haynes "remake" of Douglas Sirk's All That Heaven Allows tries to make up for. And current films about the 50s present such two dimensional characters that it is easy to tell the racist villains from the open-minded heroes. In Sapphire, filmed in Britain in the 1950s, one of the most interesting characters is Michael Craig's detective, supposedly our hero, but constantly making racist remarks. His comments are always countered by the more reasonable older inspector, but this allows his gradual transformation throughout the film. Although some of the film is a bit heavy-handed, ultimately the message is sadly still relevant. 4 out of 5.

So who killed Sapphire. That's the movie's plot; however, the underlying theme is racial prejudice, a generally touchy topic at the time, even for British films. As I recall, the movie got more coverage than usual for a foreign release, at least in the LA area. The lovely Sapphire may look White, but genetically she's half-Black. Her troubles start when she "passes for White" in a London society still riven by prejudice. Engaged to the son of a reputable White family, her racial make-up causes rifts within the circle once her heritage is known. Naturally, the suspects start off with the family of her intended.

The twin threads of race and murder are skillfully woven into a difficult screenplay that nevertheless compels attention from start to finish. Credit a highly efficient performance from Nigel Patrick for holding together the disparate elements as his chief investigator works his way through London's many precincts. I like the way the screenplay portrays levels of racial dislike from both Whites and Blacks without getting too judgmental. Also, it looks like the exteriors were shot on location without any prettifying. Some of the neighborhoods in fact amount to about the last word in urban decay. Happily, director Deardon keeps things moving in unobtrusive fashion right down to the rather surprising finish. Anyway, the 90-some minutes amount to a topically compelling package that deserved its initial hoopla and still does.

This Basil Deardon movie addresses the pernicious topic of racism in contemporary England, with the film itself shot in 1959. It's dressed up in a murder mystery which in the end is rather crudely resolved but not before making some telling comments on racial attitudes of the time.

Let's not forget this was Harold MacMillan's England, the "you've never had it so good" generation, now, in certain parts of the country being asked to accept in sometimes considerable numbers, black immigrants for the first time. Then, and I would argue, now, especially when considering how big a part the subject of immigration played in the recent United Kingdom Brexit vote, there has always been a strain of racism, sometimes casual, sometimes deep, running the length of this country.

The Sapphire of the title is the young girl whose lifeless body is shockingly dumped on the local common in the arresting beginning to the feature. We learn that the girl was of mixed race but of what is termed the "light" variety, meaning that she can usually pass for a white girl. A fun-loving, even what you might call a good-time girl, it transpires she has a straight-laced white boyfriend who lives with his father, mother and an older sister who has young twin daughters of her own. While the mother appears to be a tolerant soul, it soon becomes obvious that the father and daughter aren't. No reason or explanation is given for their bias, it's just skin prejudice, no more no less.

We also learn that Sapphire was pregnant at the time of her death, which turns out to be a further motive for her eventual demise. While Nigel Patrick and Michael Craig as the two investigating cops dig deeper into the slain girl's background, her doctor brother, a dark-skinned black man, arrives to help with the police enquiries. The investigation also takes in a local club where foreign nationals meet socially, each, it seems, with their own story to tell about suffering racial abuse, before the murderer is finally revealed in a somewhat clumsy, contrived fashion.

Never mind that though, the film is still a brave one in exposing to cinema audiences of the day the vileness of racial discrimination. We see examples of such practices by many white folk in the cast (such as the common practice of white landlords and here, landladies denying accommodation to blacks), although the scenes taking in the black community itself, implying black-on-black prejudice are less successfully rendered. These characterisations too seem exaggerated plus the crude way that Deardon introduces the dead girl's brother, with a big "Ta-da" musical chord, is somewhat heavy-handed. The "N" word is used however in dialogue and there are other examples of the director pushing the envelope as it were, although I'm not sure the right balance is struck throughout in tone or emphasis.

Patrick is very good as the tolerant and persevering lead detective as is Yvonne Mitchell as the bigoted big sister.. Other pluses are a low-key jazz soundtrack by Johnny Dankworth and the use of actual street locations in and around London. As imperfect and occasionally offensive it may well be to modern day viewers, "Sapphire" still stands out as a significant attempt to at least recognise, address and indeed challenge racial attitudes of the day a good year or two before the more celebrated "A Taste Of Honey".

At first glance, SAPPHIRE seems to be your usual police procedural murder mystery thriller, with the superintendent and his supporting inspector (both played with bullish charm by Nigel Patrick and Michael Craig) investigating the discovery of a murdered girl in the local park. Indeed, their investigations initially take them down the usual alleyways as they explore the girl's social group, her relationship with a local lad, and some less-than-salubrious locations she was involved with.

However, where SAPPHIRE becomes something much, much more is in its context: race relations in Britain, circa 1959. It turns out that Sapphire herself was actually of mixed race, despite looking white. The discovery of her racial origins underpins the whole story and it's up to Patrick and Craig to unpin the build up to her brutal death. This is a shocking film, exploring the ugly face of racism in its matter-of-fact hatred of blacks and their creed. There's something grippingly realistic about it which makes it all the better film.

The supporting cast is very well picked. Nobody does shifty better than Paul Massie, the primary murder suspect. Earl Cameron is the model of race and refinement as the dead girl's brother. Yvonne Mitchell is superbly twitchy and Bernard Miles convincingly bigoted. Robert Adams supplies the one moment of true humour with his great cameo as Horace Big Cigar. As a film, SAPPHIRE is never less than thoroughly impressive, working well as a piece of social history as well as a fine detective story.

When a young woman's body is discovered on London's Hampstead Heath, the ensuing investigation quickly focuses on racial bigotry and hatred in 1950s Britain, exposing the prejudice amongst those under investigation AND those investigating.

Like so many other films from the 1940s and 1950s, Sapphire is yet another piece of groundbreaking British cinema now long forgotten. A little clunky and overly reliant on stereotyping by today's standards, but still a fascinating exploration of the fears and struggles inherent in a newly mixed-race society. Dearden has brought together an interesting cast here, cleverly giving matinée idol Craig a fairly unsympathetic role as a racist police officer, and being superbly served by Mitchell - her final scene is at once both compelling and distressing. Too many British cinema actors of the 40's and 50's have now been forgotten, and Mitchell is a prime example of why individual and collective reappraisals and retrospectives are long overdue.

Interesting companion piece to 1961's Flame In The Streets, then, and definitely worth catching if you can.