This 1962 tale of four lads on a night out, told Rashamon style, from alternate flashback points of view in a courtroom setting, raises questions of prejudice and brutality in justice.
The court is portrayed as a claustrophobic cube, hidebound in tradition, and limited by the law at the time. The boys standing accused of robbery and murder are at once symbols of freedom and of rebellious youth.
Between the two, we are shown the course of events of that fateful Thursday night on 15th January 1962 (In real life that was a Monday). We see events from differing points of view, those views leading to conclusions so different as to sow much doubt in our minds as to where the truth lies.
In the court, the prosecution, led by Victor Webster QC (Richard Todd), relies on character assassination and supposition. The defence barrister, Montgomery (Robert Morley), would seem to have a walk in the park to dismantle such a weak, circumstantial case. The wise old judge, played by Felix Aylmer, is fair but stern.
There is no evidence to place any of the defendants at the scene of the crime, much less committing it. The mere fact that some people who came into contact with the lads during that evening describe them as Teddy Boys, by then an outdated term for scary teenagers, is enough to condemn them without further ado.
Montgomery has difficulty in piercing the sullen, sulking boys' exterior, but makes a valiant defence by allowing them to describe their chaotic yet innocent actions.
It seems that even the prosecution barrister has his doubts. When allowed further cross-examination after resting his case, a most unusual but allowable course, he tries to guide one defendant towards an innocent explanation for the magical appearance of a half-crown (12½p). Then he tries to have the older defendant pass the blame to a younger accomplice, knowing that the death penalty could not apply to those under eighteen.
The defence barrister makes an impassioned plea, not for mercy, as that cannot be allowed under the law at the time, but for the Law itself to be tried. This was a law that said those who commit murder for anger, revenge, or pleasure could only face imprisonment. However, murder in the furtherance of theft was a capital offence. This injustice is the take away from this tale.
Four boys, condemned by economic background, by others for their manner and dress, stand accused of theft and homicide. Was it just high jinks, or was it murder most foul?
The court is portrayed as a claustrophobic cube, hidebound in tradition, and limited by the law at the time. The boys standing accused of robbery and murder are at once symbols of freedom and of rebellious youth.
Between the two, we are shown the course of events of that fateful Thursday night on 15th January 1962 (In real life that was a Monday). We see events from differing points of view, those views leading to conclusions so different as to sow much doubt in our minds as to where the truth lies.
In the court, the prosecution, led by Victor Webster QC (Richard Todd), relies on character assassination and supposition. The defence barrister, Montgomery (Robert Morley), would seem to have a walk in the park to dismantle such a weak, circumstantial case. The wise old judge, played by Felix Aylmer, is fair but stern.
There is no evidence to place any of the defendants at the scene of the crime, much less committing it. The mere fact that some people who came into contact with the lads during that evening describe them as Teddy Boys, by then an outdated term for scary teenagers, is enough to condemn them without further ado.
Montgomery has difficulty in piercing the sullen, sulking boys' exterior, but makes a valiant defence by allowing them to describe their chaotic yet innocent actions.
It seems that even the prosecution barrister has his doubts. When allowed further cross-examination after resting his case, a most unusual but allowable course, he tries to guide one defendant towards an innocent explanation for the magical appearance of a half-crown (12½p). Then he tries to have the older defendant pass the blame to a younger accomplice, knowing that the death penalty could not apply to those under eighteen.
The defence barrister makes an impassioned plea, not for mercy, as that cannot be allowed under the law at the time, but for the Law itself to be tried. This was a law that said those who commit murder for anger, revenge, or pleasure could only face imprisonment. However, murder in the furtherance of theft was a capital offence. This injustice is the take away from this tale.
Four boys, condemned by economic background, by others for their manner and dress, stand accused of theft and homicide. Was it just high jinks, or was it murder most foul?