It would seem that bank heists were a popular past-time in London in the early 1950s, since Ealing Studios dedicated their two most renown films to the topic. In the deliciously black comedy, 'The Ladykillers (1955),' a buck-toothed Alec Guinness led a band of laughable criminals in their efforts to forever silence an innocent old woman, their well-laid plans slowly unraveling with each attempt. 'The Lavender Hill Mob,' directed by Charles Crichton and released four years earlier, seems a bit unsure about whether it wants to be a dark comedy or a crime thriller, but it tackles both genres so convincingly that you're prepared to cut it some slack. Over the past few months, I've come to realise that Alec Guinness never plays the same character twice, always providing a persona that is as new and interesting as anything he has ever done {just compare, for example, Professor Marcus of 'The Ladykillers' with Henry Holland of this film. Both pictures required Guinness to play a relatively similar role, and yet he presents us with two startlingly-different eccentric personalities}.
Guinness once again shines as Henry Holland, a timid clerk at the Bank of England and the epitome of docility and dependability. However, for the past nineteen years, Holland has merely been biding his time, having to content himself with a meagre weekly income of "eight pounds, fifteen shillings, less deductions," despite having a potential fortune at his fingertips. When the right moment arrives, Holland plots to steal £1 million in gold bullion from his wealthy employer. However, it is a caper that cannot be executed without some additional assistance, and so Holland acquires the services of art aficionado Alfred Pendlebury (Stanley Holloway), and two small-time crooks, Lackery Smith (Sidney James) and Shorty Fisher (Alfie Bass). As with all films of this type, though Holland's perfect scheme initially appears to have been a complete success, it soon begins to unwind in the most tragic manner possible.
There's a wonderful sequence set in Paris, after Holland and Pendlebury discover that six of their solid-gold Eiffel Towers have accidentally been sold to a group of English schoolgirls. As the two men traipse down the Tower's staircase in pursuit of the girls' elevator, their hats and coats are flung into the open air, where they flutter unreservedly in the breeze. Spinning deliriously around the lengthy spiral staircase, the two men break into uproarious laughter, becoming as feverishly giddy as the schoolgirls whom they are pursuing. Upon reaching solid ground, the Holland and Pendlebury clutch dizzily at each other, the world spiraling before their eyes, simple unable to stand upright as their quarry departs in a bus. Little do our criminals know that this moment of exhilarating freedom that they just experienced was the beginning of their downfall, and that those pesky English schoolgirls and one stubborn one, in particular would lead to the demise of Holland's flawless scheme.
Guinness once again shines as Henry Holland, a timid clerk at the Bank of England and the epitome of docility and dependability. However, for the past nineteen years, Holland has merely been biding his time, having to content himself with a meagre weekly income of "eight pounds, fifteen shillings, less deductions," despite having a potential fortune at his fingertips. When the right moment arrives, Holland plots to steal £1 million in gold bullion from his wealthy employer. However, it is a caper that cannot be executed without some additional assistance, and so Holland acquires the services of art aficionado Alfred Pendlebury (Stanley Holloway), and two small-time crooks, Lackery Smith (Sidney James) and Shorty Fisher (Alfie Bass). As with all films of this type, though Holland's perfect scheme initially appears to have been a complete success, it soon begins to unwind in the most tragic manner possible.
There's a wonderful sequence set in Paris, after Holland and Pendlebury discover that six of their solid-gold Eiffel Towers have accidentally been sold to a group of English schoolgirls. As the two men traipse down the Tower's staircase in pursuit of the girls' elevator, their hats and coats are flung into the open air, where they flutter unreservedly in the breeze. Spinning deliriously around the lengthy spiral staircase, the two men break into uproarious laughter, becoming as feverishly giddy as the schoolgirls whom they are pursuing. Upon reaching solid ground, the Holland and Pendlebury clutch dizzily at each other, the world spiraling before their eyes, simple unable to stand upright as their quarry departs in a bus. Little do our criminals know that this moment of exhilarating freedom that they just experienced was the beginning of their downfall, and that those pesky English schoolgirls and one stubborn one, in particular would lead to the demise of Holland's flawless scheme.