Victim (1961) ****

Blackmail remains an odious and, unfortunately, booming area of criminal activity, especially targeting youngsters for perceived sexually inappropriate behavior. Politicians still fall into honey traps and I’m sure there are  Hollywood stars who dare not risk coming out for fear of jeopardising their careers. Too often, people pay up or commit suicide rather than endure what they view as a shameful transgression. Seventy years ago, it was a crime in Britain to be a homosexual so anyone with that particular inclination was open to blackmail.

This picture tied the British censor in knots just for daring to use the word “homosexual” never mind “queer” (in the old slang). The Americans were less sympathetic, refusing to allow it to be shown.

It remains surprisingly powerful, not just for the dealing with a subject that had ruined as brilliant career as that of Oscar Wilde over half a century before and had the power to continue to do so. While the wealthy might be able to hush up such criminal acts, the less well-off endured spells in prison.

It’s structured as a triple-edged thriller. Top London barrister Farr (Dirk Bogarde), a fast rising star, determines to root out a vicious blackmailer, while keeping from wife Laura (Sylvia Syms) his own submerged inclinations,  and all the time paying the price in emotional terms for denying his true feelings.

The police are surprisingly sympathetic so this isn’t full of tough cops beating up poor gay men but a community turned inside out trying to retain its sanity. The movie makes various open pleas to the British government to change its mind, but such agitation for change takes place within the context of an enthralling narrative.

It opens like a conventional thriller. A man on the run, Barratt (Peter McEnery), one step ahead of the law, seeking help from a variety of acquaintances, one of whom is Farr. We don’t know what this chap has done except he lugs around a precious suitcase. Not filled, it transpires, with compromising photos, as you might expect, but with a scrapbook.

Eventually, we find out Barratt has embezzled a large stash of cash in order to pay off blackmailers. When caught, he refuses to fess up, instead taking the suicidal way out. Farr, feeling guilty, decides to hunt down the blackmailers. This takes him through a gay underground, populated by characters who are being similarly fleeced: upmarket hairdresser Henry (Charles Lloyd-Pack), upmarket car salesman Phip (Nigel Stock), West End actor Calloway (Dennis Price). Some victims are not only complicit but implicate others (exactly as happened recently in Britain when a Tory MP was blackmailed). Eventually, the trailer leads to the vicious Sandy (Derren Nesbitt) and vile accomplice Madge (Mavis Villiers).

That it avoids falling into the exploitation sector is thanks to a story that focuses on human torment rather than pointing the finger. Prior to his marriage, Farr himself has owned up to a previous indiscretion and promised never to go astray. He can allow himself to fall in love, as with Barratt, but take it no further than giving the young man a lift home. Laura, meanwhile, refuses to just be his alibi, his “lifebelt,” her belief that she is in a proper marriage torn asunder by her husband’s admission that his career is under threat.

Inadvertently, Farr has wrecked other lives, small, dumpy bookseller Doe (Norman Bird) rejected by Barratt for unrequited love with the handsome lawyer. Laura’s brother cuts ties with her over the stain such a scandal would cast over the family. Friendship with Farr throws  suspicion onto married friend Eddy (Donald Churchill). Not everyone can hide their sexuality, Henry having endured four prison sentences for being caught.

And as with your normal thriller, there are red herrings, a newcomer to a pub possibly being in league with the blackmailer, and audience suspicion is directed to the camp pair whispering in the pub. As with the best red herrings, these are transformed into different narrative pegs.

Farr is far from your usual detective, what with his upper class lifestyle, and the danger – physical, marital and emotional – he puts himself in, but he is dogged and principled and in the end gets his man, knowing full well that he will pay a price. Eliminating stereotypes helps. Nobody minces around and there’s no vicious gossip or sarcastic observer on the sidelines.

I’d already been very impressed by the work of the underrated Basil Dearden whose portfolio includes lean thrillers The Secret Partner (1961) and The Man Who Haunted Himself (1970), grander affairs such as Khartoum (1966) and The Assassination Bureau (1964), and fistfuls of sub-Hitchcockian twisted complication in The Mind Benders (1963), Woman of Straw (1964), Masquerade (1965) and Only When I Larf (1968). This sits high on his list. But he is very much aided by a superb screenplay by Janet Green (The Clouded Yellow, 1950) and John McCormick (Seven Women, 1965).

Excellent performance by Dirk Bogarde (Our Mother’s House, 1967) and a very rounded one by Sylvia Sims (East of Sudan, 1964). A shout out for Derren Nesbitt (The Blue Max, 1966) as the creepy smug villain and John Cairney (Jason and the Argonauts, 1963), who recently died, and was a relation of my mother.

Recommended. Blackmail has an ominous contemporary ring.