Who would be a film director? One minute you’re in charge of Swiss Family Robinson (1960), Disney’s biggest live-action venture since 20,000 Leagues under the Sea (1954), and knocking up a home run at the box office. Then you’re handed a massive budget, mega-cast and huge logistics with the added responsibility of saving near-bankrupt 20th Century Fox with 70mm roadshow The Longest Day (1962) and then you’re hurled into two more roadshows, Those Magnificent Men in Their Flying Machines (1965) and Battle of the Bulge (1965), the latter in Cinerama, again big budgets and all-star casts.
And in between you’re relegated to this black-and-white run-of-the-mill London cop thriller. Maybe you said you were fed up with all those stars and big budgets and fancied a more intimate number. Maybe not. Maybe you just weren’t flying as high as you imagined and like anyone else you just had to eat.
While you’re not contending with the likes of John Wayne, Robert Mitchum or Henry Fonda, at least for The Informers you’ve a pretty good British cast, many of whom would become marquee attractions or make their bones in television. Star Nigel Patrick would head up the Zero One TV series (1963-1965), Harry Andrews (Play Dirty, 1968) would be a sterling movie supporting player. Colin Blakely would be Dr Watson in Billy Wilder’s The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes (1970), Derren Nesbitt would shine as a Gestapo officer in Where Eagles Dare (1968), and Oscar-nominated Frank Finlay would be one of The Three Musketeers (1973).
This crime tale has inefficient cops being led a merry dance by efficient bank robbers. While top cop Supt Bestwick (Harry Andrews) puts his faith in the new-fangled wire-tapping and electronic eavesdropping, underling Chief Inspector Johnnoe (Nigel Patrick) prefers the more traditional method of relying on informers, “snouts” in underworld parlance, such as the perpetually sozzled Jim Ruskin (John Cowley).
The cops might have had a better chance if the robbers weren’t listening in to the cops or using the informer route to mislead them. While Johnnoe might get the better of gangster kingpin Hoyle (Derren Nesbitt) in a verbal duel, he’s resolutely outwitted when it comes to criminal wiles, duped by another crook Sale (Frank Finlay) and gangster’s moll Maisie (Margaret Whiting) so that he ends up on a corruption charge, which puts him out of the investigation.
Luckily, he’s got a smart determined wife Mary (Katherine Woodville) who sets about clearing his name with the help of junk dealer Charlie (Colin Blakely), brother of murdered snout Jim.
Most of this is what would be later termed police procedural as the cops follow up leads and enter the lion’s den and get trapped in bureaucracy until Johnnoe, suspended from duty and out on bail, no longer has to play by the rules. The rogue cop was more of an American movie tradition than the British but Johnnoe makes a good stab at it.
Charlie’s not inclined to play by the rules either and gets together a mob of his own to hit the robbers and revenge his brother. Given the Brits aren’t armed to the teeth, when it comes to the battle royal, they go in there with wrenches and other hand-tools supplemented by the occasional knife rather than machine guns or shotguns. But it’s still an astonishing fight for this era of British crime.
There’s some unusual emotional elements, too, particularly with the moll and a surprising sequence involving Roy Kinnear, generally not considered to have such emotional depth. Did I mention the cat? The one who attempts, for fun, to foil an escape by a trapped cop.
Not quite in the vein of the later British crime thrillers like Get Carter (1971) or Villain (1971) but certainly moving in a harder-nosed direction.
Ken Annakin is almost going back to his British cinematic roots and proving he can do the business on a small budget. Written by Alun Falconer (Never Let Go, 1960) from the novel by Douglas Warner.
Better class of British crime.
I caught this on YouTube but it’s as likely to turn up on Talking Pictures TV.
The Magnificent 60s 