Sapphire

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 is one of the most shocking films ever made about the true depths of colour prejudice in Britain in the 1950s, and the violent hatreds of black people harboured at that time by the white British working classes, especially in London. The film is well-scripted, and boldly directed by Basil Dearden, and it shows without flinching the true state of feeling as it was in those days (with some strong anti-white prejudice by blacks thrown in, to demonstrate that things are never only one way). What is so utterly horrifying about watching all of this now is, that it really was all true then. It is inevitable that some of the characters both white and black should resemble stereotypes, perhaps for the reason that at that time, people genuinely were stereotypes. The story concerns a police investigation of a murder of a young girl who was a student at the Royal Academy of Music (half way through the film a policeman calls it the Royal College of Music; Londoners are always confusing the two separate institutions in that way, so perhaps this script flaw merely reflects real life). Her body is found on Hampstead Heath in London, and there are no clues apart from the initial 'S' (her name is eventually discovered to be Sapphire). As a crime investigation thriller, the film is solid and extremely well done. A spectacular cameo performance is given by the black actor Robert Adams as 'Horace Big Cigar', not long before he died. The acting is all reliable and convincing. Dearden is especially good at not allowing any of the women and children to scream when discovering a body or having a horrible experience: his technique was extremely subtle, and they instead stifle screams, a scream begins to form, and then they put their own hands over their mouths in horror. When identifying a corpse, the actor behaves as one would naturally do, with numb paralysed shock, remaining silent and staring. All the ridiculous Hollywood histrionics and stock reactions of approved hysteria and screaming females are eliminated from this very British film, in which there is no place for hysteria except with one black character who panics for story reasons. Sociologists should really see this film. However, it is so incendiary that I cannot see it ever being released again or even being shown on television, at least not in Britain. In fact, some of the comments in the film may even have become 'illegal' under the harsh new race relations laws, even in a fictional context! Anyone who thinks race problems have gone away does not know human nature. Sensitivity to small differences, such as skin colour, is so firmly rooted in animal behaviour (the isolation by the herd of the black sheep, the driving away of albino animals from the pack), that race hatreds are inescapable, and can only be suppressed, never eradicated. Seeing this film reminds one of this depressing aspect of life by a blatant portrayal of it which is almost too painful to watch.

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.

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.

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".