The Frightened City (1961) Connery on the Cusp (Review)

Released to StudioCanal’s Vintage Classics Collection this week, The Frightened City is a 1961 British noir from Canadian-born director John Lemont about protection rackets in London’s West End. It’s a solid, if fairly unremarkable gangland thriller, one which would perhaps be lost to the mists of time were it not for the fact that the third billed star was a certain Sean Connery, then on the cusp of fame with the forthcoming Dr. No the previous year. In fact, many claim that it was his performance here that convinced Cubby Broccoli that the muscular Scotsman might just have what it takes to be James Bond. The rest is of course history.

The Frightened City tells the story of Waldo Zhernikov, a ruthless and urbane émigré who spots the chance to introduce the notion of organised crime gangs into Britain’s capital. Approaching small time racketeer and club owner Harry Foulcher (Alfred Marks), Zhernikov persuades him that there is strength in numbers and that joining forces with his rivals to form a syndicate that he will personally bank roll and oversee would be a lucrative proposition for all. Being a canny operator, Foulcher immediately sees the benefits of working together; a unified front would effectively remove the competition that blights their enterprises, and if newcomers attempt to strong-arm their way into any one particular territory, they can call upon one another and summon up enough manpower to send the opportunists packing almost immediately. Both men agree however that a lead enforcer is required, someone who all these small time mobsters can respect and accept orders from. Enter Connery as Paddy Damien. At one time a cat burglar, Damien’s climbing days were curtailed when his partner Wally (Kenneth Griffith) was injured on a job. The opportunity to become chief enforcer is a tantalising one for Damien – not only would it help in terms of the financial responsibility he feels he owes his disabled partner, there’s also the prospect of getting closer to Zhornikov’s beautifully exotic mistress, Anya (Yvonne Romain). As they build their criminal empire, some of the gang bosses begin to get cold feet. Blood begins to spill and, with the public, press and parliament all expressing concern, the dogged Inspector Sayers (John Gregson) is assigned o the case to break the gangs up.

It’s always interesting watching Connery in these early roles because, no matter how large or small the part is, he looks every inch the movie star he was on track to become. Like his roles in Disney’s whimsical Darby O’Gill and the Little People from 1959 and the wartime comedy On The Fiddle which was released the same year as this movie, the part of Paddy Damien is certainly one of the larger roles that came Connery’s way prior to accepting the secret service of Her Majesty, and it’s an opportunity he seizes with both hands. Whilst Damien may be on the wrong side of the law, the character shares some similarities to James Bond that it is easy to see why Broccoli paid it some attention and it’s interesting to note that Broccoli’s daughter Barbara would be convinced Daniel Craig had what it takes to play Bond having seen him play a gangster too in Layer Cake. Like 007, Damien is a true professional. We first see him in a martial arts class, suggesting the dedication he gives to the physical capabilities with which he will come to prove himself time and time again. Outwardly, Damien is a handsome and charming man, sexually attractive to ladies – he has a steady girlfriend in the shape of Olive McFarland’s singer Sadie, but this does not stop him from seducing Anya who, with cruel irony, replaces Sadie in the spotlight at Foulcher’s club too – but there’s a steeliness behind the eyes that can be turned on at a moment’s notice. This man is dangerous, but he’s also considerate and caring towards Wally too. Yes, he may be wracked with guilt for his part in the injury, but it is clear that he possesses enough of a moral compass to want to do the right thing, as opposed to simply feeling that he must. Broccoli once said that he cast Connery as 007 because “he moved like a panther” and he’s right; that big cat-like prowl is equally in evidence here. There’s something else to the role of Paddy Damien that would become familiar to all the parts Connery approached, and that’s a complete disregard for adopting any other accent other than his native Edinburgh. As you can perhaps tell from the character’s name, Paddy Damien is meant to be Irish, but Connery’s Scottish burr is as evident here as it would come to be playing an Irish cop in The Untouchables or a Russian submarine commander in The Hunt For Red October.

Connery’s subsequent success perhaps overshadows another performance in The Frightened City. Whilst the role of Paddy Damien would arguably be the mould that Connery would emerge fully formed from into subsequent superstardom, Alfred Marks surprised contemporary audiences by playing distinctly against type. Born Alfred Edward Touchinsky to Polish Jewish parents in Holborn, Marks would, like many of his contemporaries, get bitten by the performing bug during WWII. As a flight sergeant with the RAF stationed in the Middles East (where he was best friends with my grandfather’s brother in fact) he began to stage concerts for his fellow serviceman and, after the war, he pursued a career in variety at the Kilburn Empire, appearing on stage in productions of Fiddler on the Roof and The Sunshine Boys. It wasn’t long before he began to perform alongside the likes of fellow ex-servicemen and future Goons Spike Milligan, Harry Secombe and Peter Sellers (appearing alongside them and his wife, the comedienne Paddie O’Neill in 1951’s Penny Points to Paradise) and he quickly became a regular and much loved comic entertainer on BBC radio with several of his own shows. By the time The Frightened City came along, Marks had been a professional for fifteen years and was well established as a comedian. The role of Harry Foulcher therefore was a big departure, akin to a similar breakout move that Sellers attempted in he British noir Never Let Go the previous year. Granted, Foulcher appears little more than a lucky spiv in the film’s initial stages, but the promises outlined by Zhernikov show him that greater fortunes are possible, and he isn’t above becoming a killer to achieve them.

Another actor whose subsequent career effectively adhered to the template depicted here in The Frightened City is John Gregson. Having started his career as a light comedian in Ealing classics such as Whisky Galore, The Lavender Hill Mob and The Titfield Thunderbolt, to say nothing of that perennial Sunday afternoon classic Genevieve, the role of Detective Inspector Sayers would lead to several solid and reliable policeman roles, culminating in Gideon’s Way, a popular mid 60s TV series spin-off of John Ford’s Gideon’s Day, which had starred Jack Hawkins as the avuncular Scotland Yard detective created by novelist John Creasy. Likewise Herbert Lom had, for many years until The Pink Panther movies, the monopoly on playing sophisticated villains of various nationalities and Zhernikov is no exception. Neither actor need stretch themselves very much here and it shows.

Written by Leigh Vance (who had previously been married to Eunice Gayson who would be the very first Bond girl opposite Connery in both Dr No and From Russia With Love) The Frightened City is the type of British film one imagines created a bit of a stir back in the day thanks to its relatively gritty approach to the criminal underworld. It clearly owes a debt to the noir films of Hollywood, but it simply doesn’t have the same punch as earlier efforts such as Jules Dassin’s Night and the City from 1950. Viewed today The Frightened City has a heady nostalgic appeal, it’s fictional setting swirling in the appreciation we have for the late 50s and early 60s as a time of gangland kingpins like Jack Spot or the Kray twins, nightclub hostesses like the doomed Ruth Ellis, racketeers like notorious landlord Peter Rachman, his some-time moll Mandy Rice-Davies and her more notorious best friend, Christine Keeler. But if it wasn’t for the fact that it was the film that captured Connery on the cusp of fame, it would perhaps only truly be known for its score, which provided Cliff Richard’s backing band The Shadows with a number 3 hit in May 1961.

Often accused of being pretentious, the Style Council chose to face down these allegations in 1987 by promoting their album The Cost of Loving with a non-linear musical satire on British identity in the age of Thatcherism, narrated by a pre-Reverend Richard Coles. Surprisingly, this did not stop people from calling them pretentious, and the resulting film JerUSAlem (it is our sad duty to confirm that yes, you saw what they did there) vanished from sight.

APRIL PATREON – POP SCREEN PLUS

Thanks for reading Mark’s review of The Frightened City

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