ROBBERY.
An Oakhurst Ltd.
Production, distributed by Paramount Pictures and Embassy Pictures, United
Kingdom, 1967. 1 hour 54 minutes. Aspect ratio 1.66:1
Director: Peter Yates,
Screenplay: Edward Boyd, Peter Yates, George Markstein, based on a treatment by
Gerald Wilson, Music: Johnny Keating, Cinematography: Douglas Slocombe, Art
Director: Michael Seymour, Editor: Reginald Beck, Executive Producer: Joseph E.
Levine, Producers: Stanley Baker, Michael Deeley. CAST:
Stanley Baker (Paul Clifton), Joanna Pettet (Kate Clifton), James Booth
(Inspector Langdon), Barry Foster (Frank), Frank Finlay (Robinson), William
Marlowe (Dave Aitken), George Sewell (Ben), Clinton Greyn (Jack), Glynn Edwards
(Squad Chief), Rachel Herbert (Schoolteacher), Robert Powell (Young train
conductor).
Previously available
only in a lackluster pan-and-scan DVD, Robbery,
one of the iconic '60s caper film, often paired in discussion with The Italian Job (1969) starring Michael
Caine, receives a full special edition treatment from Studio Canal and Network's
British Film series. The film unspools the yarn regarding one of England's most
sensational crimes in modern history, the stealing of £2.6 million in used notes
from the Glasgow-to-London Royal Mail train, in August 1963. The gang of thieves, fifteen of them, carried
out the heist with a startling efficiency resembling a military operation. The
act grabbed public imagination like few other capers: so much so that, the
Brits have taken to simply refer to it as "The Great Train Robbery." Dozens of books based on investigative
journalism, autobiographies and confessionals of the ringleaders of the gang,
biographies of the policemen involved in the case, and of course numerous
semi-fictionalized accounts have sprung up since 1963 (subsequent arrests,
trials and sentencing of the major culprits literally spun off more stories for
the insatiable public).
Not surprisingly,
cinematic and TV adaptations soon followed.
The British public has not lost interest in the case even in the new
century, as evidenced by the 2012 airing of ITV's mini-series Mrs. Briggs, which tells the story of
the Great Train Robbery from the viewpoint of the wife of one of the
ringleaders. Yet, the very first
theatrical film to present an account of the crime was not made in England: it
was a black-and-white German production titled Die Gentlemen bitten zur Kasse (1966), originally a TV show in
three installments. In the end, 1967's Robbery, put together by the star
Baker's Oakhust Productions, with the help from the American producer Joseph
Levine, and helmed by the young TV director Peter Yates, coming off from a
Cliff Richard musical Summer Holiday
(1963), is generally considered the definitive, if significantly fictionalized,
cinematic rendition of the whole event.
Robbery seems to have received somewhat cold
shoulders from the mainstream critics upon its release. One reason seems to be
what they perceived as inconsistency in its tone: the film mostly behaves like
a semi-documentarian, British equivalent of The
French Connection (1971), with totally convincing location shootings in
parking lots, soccer stadiums, city parks, etc., but in other ways is strikingly
stylized, very much a product of late '60s.
Mostly, though, it just smacks of clever and efficient filmmaking: Douglas
Slocombe (Raiders of the Lost Ark) renders
even the gritty elements of the film fine polish, and the editor Reginald Beck
(The Romantic Englishwoman) endows the
proceedings with a smart, kinetic rhythm.
Director Yates stages the opening diamond heist by Clifton's (Baker)
gang (Barry Foster, William Marlowe and Clinton Greyn as the reckless driver)
with a supremely adrenalin-pumping car chase that eventually involves a group
of unsuspecting schoolchildren.
Supposedly it was this sequence that convinced Steve McQueen to hire
Yates for Bullitt (1968), and it is
every bit as exciting and dangerous-looking as the San Francisco car chases in
the latter. (It is also capped by one of
the best police line-up sequences I have ever seen, with a great participation
by Rachel Herbert as the understandably piqued schoolteacher)
The train robbery
itself is reconstructed with meticulous attention to detail, bringing in as
many authentic locations as possible (including a railway bridge in
Cheddington, Buckinghamshire where the actual heist took place). Only the mail carrier train was apparently a
mock-up that did not look like the real thing (the banks cooperated with the
production company but the post office allegedly refused). Production quality is nothing less than
handsome at all times. It is true that Robbery does not exude the anarchic
energy of The Italian Job, but the whole process of the crime, as
shown in the film, still generates enough gripping suspense to keep the viewers
attentive through its nearly two-hour running time. The movie does not make the mistake of
portraying police as pompous, incompetent fools, either.
The cast is uniformly
excellent, on both sides of the law. Barry Foster (his flashiest role was
perhaps in Alfred Hitchcock's Frenzy),
William Marlowe and George Sewell (most memorable for me from the TV series UFO) all leave strong impressions:
Foster and Sewell even share an iconic moment of burning a pound note to light
their cigarettes (Did John Woo get the inspiration for a similar image in Better Tomorrow from this film?). Frank Finlay is a mousy embezzler who is
reluctantly roped in by the gang due to his specialized knowledge about the
financial ends of the job. Hangdog-faced
James Booth (Zulu) is also nicely
cast as a Columbo-like detective who doggedly pursues minute clues, eventually
zeroing in on the gang's hideout. A
harried young conductor of the Royal Mail train is played by Robert Powell, the
subsequent star of more than one cult genre films (The Survivor, Harlequin)
as well as Jesus of Nazareth in the Franco Zeffirelli-directed mini-series.
Curiously, the
producer-star Baker does not seem fully committed to his role as the criminal
mastermind. His Paul Clifton (This was an invented personage, originally set to
be played by an American actor: no equivalent of such a "master
planner" existed among the real gang) is the only character with enough
time devoted to his private life and psychological dynamics. Yet his interaction with the beautiful wife,
Kate (Joanna Pettet, Night of the
Generals), is the only part of the movie that feels clichéd. We get little insight about why Clifton,
despite enjoying his life in a posh apartment with a loving wife, is driven to
commit bigger and more outlandish crimes. He is more a collection of brooding gestures
than a real character. Had the character of Clifton been fleshed out, the
film's seemingly open ending might have made more sense as a statement with
some point about the British society or politics (but then again, the ending
may well have meant to be no more than a balloon floated to signal a possible
sequel).
Not quite a classic on
the same level as, say, Ipcress File
or Zulu, Robbery is still an exceedingly well-executed piece of cinematic
entertainment, brimming with professionalism and cool attitudes: it is
definitely not a lugubrious exercise in kitchen-sink realism as a few other
reviews inexplicably seem to suggest.
Blu
Ray Presentation:
Studio Canal/Network,
The British Film Series. Region B. Video: 1080p HD, Aspect ratio 1.66:1, Audio:
English Mono. Subtitles: English. Supplements: An interview with Producer
Michael Deeley, Cinema: Stanley Baker
documentary, German film The Great Train
Robbery, Waiting for the Signal: The
Making of Robbery, Behind-the-scene footage, Image gallery, Promotional
materials (in pdf), Liner notes by film historian Sheldon Hall. Street date: August 31, 2015.
Network remastered the
film, scanning it from the 35mm original negative in 2K resolution,
color-correcting and eliminating dirt and damage in the process (and, according
to the technical notes, reinstating a ten second scene missing from the
previous DVD version). To my eyes the
grain structure and stability of the image all look excellent. Only in one device that I have played the
disc (a laptop) the skin tone was somewhat inclined to ruddy red, but on a big
screen TV via Momitsu Region-Free player everything looks natural and sharp as
a tack. It is doubtful that Robbery would come off any better than
this in a revival-house screening today, even with a brand new print. And not surprisingly, seeing the film in such
a beautiful condition allows us to appreciate all the technical prowess and
cool stylistic touches that went into its making. Audio is mono but Johnny Keating's jazzy
score comes off very well. It is
possible that some of the dialogues might have been tinkered to make the film
"US-friendly." I certainly
expected much heavier regional or Cockney accents among at least a few of the
players (either way, there are English subtitles).
The supplements are
quite good, too. The making-of
documentary-- that collects together the surviving staff and cast members,
including writer George Markstein, actor Glynn Edwards and others, for their
reminiscences-- is a bit on the long side but chock full of funny and informative
anecdotes nonetheless. The Stanley Baker
docu is a minimally edited series of interview footage, surprisingly
transferred in HD, of a 1972 one he gave at Granada Television. Some might consider the brooding,
menacing-looking Baker less interesting than his compatriot Michael Caine, but
I find him fascinating and he surely made more than just a handful of powerful
and meaningful films in a career cut tragically short. Perhaps the most unexpected extra is the
inclusion of the entire German film The
Great Train Robbery, the truncated, export theatrical version of Die Gentlemen bitten zur Kasse (this one
unfortunately is not in HD). I have
sampled a few segments, but found it frankly tough going: it is rather talky
and the English dubbing is for some reason extremely distracting. Of course, it is possible that I happened to
hit upon the excruciatingly boring parts. The Michael Deeley interview also
goes into a lot of topics of interest for the fans of the British genre
cinema.
Finally, the insert
essay by Sheldon Hall eschews the usual critic's opinionizing and concentrates
on the history of production of the film. He painstakingly uncovers many
relevant facts about Robbery,
including a terribly frustrating one that, despite doing excellent businesses
across the Atlantic, it ultimately lost money, due to the convoluted
distribution deal (the same fate apparently befell The Italian Job, by the way, also made
through Baker's Oakhurst Productions).
Overall, Hall does an excellent job of rehabilitating Robbery's reputation, without claiming
it is a lost masterpiece on the level of Citizen
Kane, and properly situating it in the historical context of evolution (and
decline) of the British commercial cinema.
While the movie is
certainly not perfect, the Robbery
Blu Ray edition is in my view one of Network's best-produced discs and I highly
recommend it to any fans of the British genre cinema, or simply a well-made
caper film.
