A lovely surprise of a film from partners in eccentricity, Frank Launder and Sidney Gilliat, which somehow manages to combine a serious, noir-tinged thriller about espionage, war and terrorism, with wonderful character comedy, stereotype-puncturing genuine satire, and a wilful streak of absurdity. Deborah Kerr is absolutely marvellous as Bridie Quilty, the headstrong daughter of a publican, teller of tall tales about his experiences during the 1916 Irish revolution against the British. Having accordingly developed a hatred of all things British, she dertermines to join the IRA, and continue her father's unwarranted tradition.
She meets Miller, superficially the caricature of a bumbling Englishman, but in actual fact a ruthless Nazi agent pretending to be an IRA man. They relocate to a sleepy English village beside a jail, from which Miller plans to spring a terrorist with information. Bridie becomes a barmaid, and dates a sergeant from whom she extracts vital information. On the day of the plan, an Englishman, Baynes, arrives at the pub. Miller suspects him of being an intelligence officer, and orders Bridie to use her feminine wiles to distract him.
Everything goes as planned, but the escapees are eventually caught. Miller, fatally wounded, manages to flee, and tells Bridie that the terrorist's notebook, which contains classified military information, is hidden in the Isle of Man. She fails to meet a contact on a train, and has to go to the Isle herself, all the time followed by Baynes. The notebook contains detailed information about the Normandy landings, which, in the hands of the Nazis, could spell the end for D-Day. Bridie realises the extent of her ideological naivite, but soon both the British army and the republicans are after her.
This brilliant mixture of suspense and whimsy works on so many levels. It is an excellent thriller, whose human details are magnified by the global implications of events. The plot is rarely clear, and Launder consistently tries to undermine it with playful exagerration and preposterous set-ups (the climax involving alarm-clock smugglers masked as funeral mourners is hilarious) reminiscent of Hitchcock - Launder and Gilliat wrote the Master's best British film, THE LADY VANISHES. There is a genuine noir dread darkening this playfulness, ominous shadows, cramped interiors and suffocating frames engulfing characters.
It also plays cleverly with national stereotypes. STRANGER opens with a genuinely moving spiel from Bridie's father about his harrowing experiences of 1916, but, as everybody in Ireland knows, stories like this are ten-a-penny, and pure waffle. Fired with revolutionary fervour, Bridie visits a leading figure in the rebellion, a fearsome comrade of her father, who, of course, has never heard of him. Far from being a hot-headed idealist, he is the mild-mannered, pragmatic director of an art gallery, horrified at Bridie's intentions, scandalously supporting the Treaty, which, even today, is ragarded by many in Ireland as a compromise which sold out the North.
One of Launder's tactics is to invoke stereotypes only to knock them down - the aforementioned smuggling scene is an excellent example. Indeed, one of STRANGER'S themes is the breaking away from stereotype, perceived ideology, histories constructed by vested interests. Bridie begins the film eavesdropping on her father speaking, outside the community he belongs to, silently repeating his words - the film charts her growth, into a person in her own right, whose strong personality rejects all controlling bonds.
Similarly with Baynes, stiff-upper-lipped military man prepared to dob in his true love for King and country. He too is bound by received ideas of duty and history, which is beautifully mocked throughout the film, especially in the Tweedledum and Tweedledee figures of Goodhusband and Spanswick. Indeed all extremists, terrorists and Imperialists alike, are either ruthlessly or idiotically inhuman.
STRANGER achieves a satisfactory conclusion without ever betraying character - Bridie isn't going to change all that quickly. Her personal growth is linked to the form of the film, which opens with two authorial voiceovers - one the narrator, who playfully guides the film at the beginning; secondly her father, telling the stories that will decide her destiny; while she, as I mentioned, speaks mutely. As the film continues, there is a greater dependence on, and faith in, her voiceovers, to the extent that her thoughts actually spill out into the world of the plot.
Another interesting motif in the film is the difference in Irish and English perception of the same things - for instance in Ireland one is reared loathing Cromwell as a genocidal maniac, whereas in Britain he is a radical opponent of monarchy, tyranny and privilege. It is strange that such a percptive film should have no mention of religion, but then that is probably its final subversive sleight of hand. There are quite a few people in the North today who could benefit from watching this sublime film.
She meets Miller, superficially the caricature of a bumbling Englishman, but in actual fact a ruthless Nazi agent pretending to be an IRA man. They relocate to a sleepy English village beside a jail, from which Miller plans to spring a terrorist with information. Bridie becomes a barmaid, and dates a sergeant from whom she extracts vital information. On the day of the plan, an Englishman, Baynes, arrives at the pub. Miller suspects him of being an intelligence officer, and orders Bridie to use her feminine wiles to distract him.
Everything goes as planned, but the escapees are eventually caught. Miller, fatally wounded, manages to flee, and tells Bridie that the terrorist's notebook, which contains classified military information, is hidden in the Isle of Man. She fails to meet a contact on a train, and has to go to the Isle herself, all the time followed by Baynes. The notebook contains detailed information about the Normandy landings, which, in the hands of the Nazis, could spell the end for D-Day. Bridie realises the extent of her ideological naivite, but soon both the British army and the republicans are after her.
This brilliant mixture of suspense and whimsy works on so many levels. It is an excellent thriller, whose human details are magnified by the global implications of events. The plot is rarely clear, and Launder consistently tries to undermine it with playful exagerration and preposterous set-ups (the climax involving alarm-clock smugglers masked as funeral mourners is hilarious) reminiscent of Hitchcock - Launder and Gilliat wrote the Master's best British film, THE LADY VANISHES. There is a genuine noir dread darkening this playfulness, ominous shadows, cramped interiors and suffocating frames engulfing characters.
It also plays cleverly with national stereotypes. STRANGER opens with a genuinely moving spiel from Bridie's father about his harrowing experiences of 1916, but, as everybody in Ireland knows, stories like this are ten-a-penny, and pure waffle. Fired with revolutionary fervour, Bridie visits a leading figure in the rebellion, a fearsome comrade of her father, who, of course, has never heard of him. Far from being a hot-headed idealist, he is the mild-mannered, pragmatic director of an art gallery, horrified at Bridie's intentions, scandalously supporting the Treaty, which, even today, is ragarded by many in Ireland as a compromise which sold out the North.
One of Launder's tactics is to invoke stereotypes only to knock them down - the aforementioned smuggling scene is an excellent example. Indeed, one of STRANGER'S themes is the breaking away from stereotype, perceived ideology, histories constructed by vested interests. Bridie begins the film eavesdropping on her father speaking, outside the community he belongs to, silently repeating his words - the film charts her growth, into a person in her own right, whose strong personality rejects all controlling bonds.
Similarly with Baynes, stiff-upper-lipped military man prepared to dob in his true love for King and country. He too is bound by received ideas of duty and history, which is beautifully mocked throughout the film, especially in the Tweedledum and Tweedledee figures of Goodhusband and Spanswick. Indeed all extremists, terrorists and Imperialists alike, are either ruthlessly or idiotically inhuman.
STRANGER achieves a satisfactory conclusion without ever betraying character - Bridie isn't going to change all that quickly. Her personal growth is linked to the form of the film, which opens with two authorial voiceovers - one the narrator, who playfully guides the film at the beginning; secondly her father, telling the stories that will decide her destiny; while she, as I mentioned, speaks mutely. As the film continues, there is a greater dependence on, and faith in, her voiceovers, to the extent that her thoughts actually spill out into the world of the plot.
Another interesting motif in the film is the difference in Irish and English perception of the same things - for instance in Ireland one is reared loathing Cromwell as a genocidal maniac, whereas in Britain he is a radical opponent of monarchy, tyranny and privilege. It is strange that such a percptive film should have no mention of religion, but then that is probably its final subversive sleight of hand. There are quite a few people in the North today who could benefit from watching this sublime film.