An Unsuitable Job for a Woman (1982) An Obscure Take on the Traditional British Murder Mystery Novel (Review)

The British film industry of the late twentieth century is one that I am deeply fascinated by. From the early 1970s onwards, it was an industry cash-strapped by Hollywood’s decision to return home after rinsing the profitable new wave/kitchen sink/swinging London milieus of the previous decade. Compelled to either emulate America (foolhardy) or to march to the beat of its own drum, it was capable of producing absolute garbage, curios and even diamonds in the rough. It was an industry that was out on a limb that managed to nurture filmmakers who were, somewhat perversely, outliers themselves. One such filmmaker is Chris Petit who, in 1979, made his debut with the curiously British road movie, Radio On – a film which did not receive a television premiere until thirty-four years later in 2013. Tipping its hat to arguably the last great, original British movie prior to this period in time, Mike Hodges’ Get Carter, Radio On sends David Beames’ protagonist on a picaresque Wim Wenders-style road movie to investigate the death of his brother. When I watched it on BBC2 that Saturday evening in 2013, I was unimpressed. But I returned to it again five years later and its snapshot of the Winter of Discontent finally fell into place; its atmospheric vision of Wimpy bars and the Westway, of nightshifts spinning discs for the disinterested workers at the Gilette factory and fresh wintry evenings with sopping wet hair, of getting your hair cut short, too short, and the end of an affair and the open road, of Inky black nights and doom-laden news, of the Troubles on the radio and flickering away on your three TV sets back home and of psychotic AWOL squaddie brings them to your passenger side, of rainswept roads and pylons and snow on the hills and mist in the air, of Fräulein drifters and an Eddie Cochran obsessed petrol pump attendant, all to the sounds of a car radio populated by Bowie and Kraftwerk, the Blockheads and Devo, Wreckless Eric and Ohm Sweet Ohm, all made sense even if the central narrative remained purposefully elusive. I watched it again last year when it finally received a stunning BFI release and I absolutely fell in love with its aloof, existential charms.

At a point in between this burgeoning love affair in 2019, I watched a rather grainy print online of Petit’s follow up movie, 1982’s An Unsuitable Job for a Woman. Initially and on the surface at least the decision to adapt a traditional British mystery thriller – PD James’ 1972 novel of the same name to be exact, the first of the author’s novels featuring the young female private eye Cordelia Gray – appears to be a more mainstream move from Petit. But as is often the case with mysteries, those first impressions can be misleading. Now audiences have a chance to see for themselves thanks to the movie being released to Blu-ray on the Indicator Powerhouse label this week.

Prior to my original viewing in 2019, and if my memory serves me right, I can only recall this being shown on TV once in the late ’90s. It may have been broadcast before that of course, but I really don’t think it has been since. Its transmission coincided with ITV’s decision around that time to produce a TV series based on James’ story starring Helen Baxendale who, at the time, was riding high from the success of Cold Feet. The series itself was short-lived (lasting just two series) but it seemed to be popular in the US, where episodes of its second series were broadcast a full two years before it received its UK premiere and where a full DVD boxset is commercially available. 

I haven’t read James’ novel, but I believe this is a somewhat loose adaptation (quele surprise) from Petit and his fellow screenwriters Elizabeth McKay and Brian Scobie, and a cursory glance on the Wikipedia page for the novel proves it to be the case. Where the film does not deviate from the source material is in its basic premise and narrative; Gray is a twenty-three-year-old woman who was training to be a private detective under the tutelage of an older man, Bernie Pryde, when she finds that he has committed suicide and left her the agency. Her first case is also a suicide; that of a young Cambridge drop-out and son of a prominent individual. Cordelia learns that Mark Callender, the dead young man, had everything to live for – including decent grades and a considerable family inheritance – and begins to suspect that he was actually murdered, a suspicion that subsequently puts Cordelia’s own life in danger.

Like Radio On, this is an off-beat and evocative film from Petit that perhaps has more interest in character than it does narrative. Whilst playing with the traditions of film noir – a mystery involving a wealthy family out in the sticks who perhaps know more than they are letting on – it stands out as distinctive because of its untypical central character. There’s no tough, wisecracking Philip Marlowe-type here, just an unusual and determined young woman operating in what is traditionally viewed to be a man’s world. Played by Pippa Guard, Cordelia Gray is an interesting proposition. Her inexperience as a detective is refreshingly never far from the film, but neither is her resourcefulness and a peculiar desire for justice that takes the form of an obsessional desire, not only to do right by the memory of the deceased young man, but also in terms of a romantic connection with that memory.

This connection makes for several reproachable decisions on her part, yet some are perhaps understandable ones given her ingénue detective status. Arriving in Cambridge, she opts to live in the estate cottage that Mark resided at as part of his job as a gardener, she begins to wear his clothes and even makes tape recordings of her findings in which she begins to talk to him. Most dangerous of all, she attempts to recreate his final moments, by hanging herself…inadvertently kicking the chair over!

Unfortunately, Petit doesn’t seem able to breathe much life into Cordelia’s eccentric investigation methods and her connection to Mark. This should be the most interesting aspect of the story, but it just proves too obscure and elusive. Most damning of all, one never gets the feeling that Cordelia is a natural detective. She should be seen to grow into the role so that, by the end of the film, the audience is convinced that she has made the right decision to continue her late employer’s business, but Petit’s obtuse characterisation, coupled with a perfunctory interest in the central mystery itself, means that we are never persuaded. James’ heroine is universally praised for her femininity, empathy and mettle but, apart from the setpiece the film’s poster recreates of her resourceful escape, having been thrown down a well by an unseen assailant and her odd fellowship for the deceased, we never really see this character in this adaptation. Guard is a capable and effective actress, but she is a touch too reserved in the role. She convinces best in the enigmatic, quietly obsessive moments, but is never really driving the narrative on thanks to the way Petit et al have chosen to restructure James’ tale and never feels that concrete a character as a result. I think Baxendale was probably a better fit for the character of Cordelia as James envisaged, bringing the toughness she highlighted in her role as a cynical junior doctor in the excellent BBC medical drama series Cardiac Arrest, with her own natural attractiveness – and, given that James described her heroine as possessing features ‘like an expensive cat’ I’d say she was a good physical fit.

Tellingly, Guard gets third billing in her own vehicle thanks to star turns from Billie Whitelaw as her client, the Callander family’s steely factotum, and Paul Freeman as Mark’s father James, a wealthy industrialist who each supersede her in terms of progressing the story in its crucial final stages, leaving her to act as little more than a diffident bystander. The rest of the relatively small cast is rounded out by performances from Dominic Guard (Pippa’s cousin), Dawn Archibald, and Elizabeth Spriggs, with David Horovitch playing the archetypal PI-disapproving policeman. All good actors, but somewhat ill-served by an adaptation that doesn’t seem to know how to handle the tropes of a murder mystery.

I mentioned earlier how Petit has changed aspects of James’ novel and this is never clearer than in how he chooses to depict Freeman’s character. In the novel, according to its description on Wiki, Mark’s father is Sir Ronald Callender, an eminent scientist (note the difference in name and profession) and, I imagine, an older more conservative seeming man than the one depicted here. The first clue in the film moving away from the source material lies in James’ seduction of Cordelia. I get why it’s there; Cordelia gets close to Mark’s father as a physical outlet of her desires for Mark himself, but it’s an unconvincing and superfluous moment in the film. Where the rewrites really come to the fore however is in the way the case is solved and its ultimate denouement. Reading the summary on Wiki it’s clear that James’ novel is a much more satisfying approach (featuring an appearance from James’ best-loved creation, policeman-turned-poet Adam Dalgliesh, who was played on TV in the ’80s by Roy Marsden before being resurrected in the ’00s by Martin Shaw and again most recently by Bertie Carvel for Channel 5) than how Petit approaches it which is often abrupt and desultory, boasting a very lame ending that may leave audiences going ‘is that it?’ Its moments of action are also handled somewhat poorly and it’s true that a low budget may have been at play in making them so cursory and half-hearted.

It took me two goes to appreciate Radio On, so I would recommend anyone who purchases this follow up to be patient and approach it a couple of times too. Personally, I think that traditional storytelling of the genre and Petit’s ambiguous and eccentric style is not a wholly successful brew, but it’s far better than the film he followed it up with, 1984’s Chinese Boxes, a deeply obscure Euro thriller starring Will Patton as an American caught up in murder and intrigue in Cold War-era West Germany, bending to the will of Robbie Coltrane’s Wellesian Customs agent. In contrast, this is by no means a poor film, as there is something attractive at play here, but I can understand it won’t be to everyone’s tastes. It perhaps needed a greater appreciation of what makes a good mystery thriller work, something which I suspect Petit, with his tendency towards the enigmatic, had little interest in. Ultimately, it’s this disinterest that scuppers An Unsuitable Job For a Woman; by the time that the film should be coming to life with a bang, it is all but spluttering away with a whimper.

The Powerhouse release is a very attractive package, including some eye-catching nostalgically ’80s cover art (the vintage donor card!) and a stunning new 4K scan that certainly improves upon my online viewing of a couple of years ago. Extras include the usual image gallery of promo materials, plus insightful interviews with Petit himself, along with the producer Don Boyd and actor Dominic Guard. It’s a shame that the ostensible star, Pippa Guard, was not involved as not only would I have loved to hear her thoughts on the character and the film in general, I’d also have liked to have seen her because she appears to be an actress who has faded away from the limelight. Having starred in this, the only other significant roles I’m personally aware of for her occurred on TV, including Debbie Horsfield’s culture-clash comedy-drama The Riff Raff Element and John Sullivan’s taxi driver comedy Roger, Roger, both in the 1990s.

AN UNSUITABLE JOB FOR A WOMAN – MARK’S ARCHIVE