The Ladykillers (1955) Impossibly influential dark comedy caper is still as fresh as a daisy (Review)

Few cinematic institutions rival Ealing Studios; the only similar shadows are cast by British Horror emblem Hammer and the Hong Kong Martial Arts stalwarts, the Shaw Brothers. Between 1930 and 1959, the West London studio bore cinematic fruit that not only stands up to this day, many titles could also be described as all-time greats. And for my money, the best this legendary studio ever was was when they produced Alexander Mackendrick’s The Ladykillers.

Elderly Mrs Wilberforce receives a new lodger in the shape of Alec Guinness’ malevolent Professor Marcus. One concession the Professor makes is that he will need to use the house to practice with his string quintet, a carefully considered cover story in his plan to rob a bank escort. Completing the quintet is Major’ Claude Courtney (Cecil Parker), Cockney spiv Harry Robinson (Peter Sellers); slow-witted ex-boxer ‘One-Round’ Lawson (Danny Green); and continental gangster Louis Harvey (Herbert Lom). Everything goes swimmingly until they have to consider the force of nature that is Mrs Wilberforce, a little old lady who is the one thing keeping those five desperate and greedy men from the fruits of their unlawful deeds. The ensuing chaos sees something of a proto-Black Comedy come forth, William Rose’s screenplay and its influence cannot be understated.

There is an elephant in the Ladykillers front room in the shape of the 2004 Coen Brothers remake. The resultant remake was misguided; however, it makes perfect sense with their output, taste and use of dark, character-led comedy could very easily be traced by to this point in history. Pity the film never echoed that sentiment. The 1955 film was billed as a comedy but never played for laughs, instead opting for subtle situational gags and character moments to garner the big laughs. When it does shoot for the bigger laughs they hit hard thanks to the work put into establishing the tone and character motivation. Furthermore, a character piece that works without exposition and a sharp crime caper that spirals into death and disaster, Ladykillers was years ahead of its time. Save for years ahead of their time comment, that sentiment could just as easily describe any number of Coen movies.

Most comedy films of the time indulged in a televisual style (which could still be argued today), one man elevates Mackendrick’s film about the rabble and that is Czech Cinematographer Otto Heller, who defined many of the stand-outs from 1950s British cinema. Heller expertly uses shadow and shade whenever any of the ‘string quintet’ is on the screen as a very literal transcription of their shadiness. He even gets involved in the comedy, using camera placement to great effect in one of many sight gags. Ladykillers has a big personality and Heller’s framing is one of the key reasons why everybody from the Coen’s to the countless stage productions have failed to recapture the magic bottled back in 1955.

The king of Ealing for many was Alec Guinness what with his barnstorming 8 roles in Kind Hearts and Coronets, for many though his stand-out found itself under Mackendrick’s direction. Playing a much older character, Guinness oozes unpredictable malevolence as evidenced by one of the best character introductions in all of cinema. The worn-out physicality in which he holds himself, the devilish way he furls his lip and the deliberation behind every last syllable – everything about Guinness signals to the best depiction of Mephistopheles that doesn’t exist. Such a powerful performance drowns out everything and everyone, be they Herbert Lom, Peter Sellers or Katie Johnson. For such a legend as Sellers to be overpowered by the magnitude of Alec Guinness speaks volumes.

A flawlessly plotted, performed and written classic in the pantheon of the best British films of all time and a crime caper that is as fresh today as it was 60 years ago. Divorcing the fact that the mastering rejuvenates and restores to a beautiful clarity in both sound and vision, it’s astonishing to think that this film is 60 years old making an absolute mockery of the suggestion that it would have been plagued by the ravages of time. Elsewhere on the disc, great use has been made of the BFI archives and an intriguing channel 4 documentaries from 2002 narrated by Daniel Day-Lewis (Forever Ealing). Chief among the extras is an introduction by Terry Gilliam that is full of passion and gusto worth the price of admission alone, but it’s the Ladykillers – it doesn’t really need any help.

Thanks for reading our review of The Ladykillers

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