Tomorrow at 10 (1962) is a minor masterpiece only let down by a short running time (77 minutes) which does not allow its themes to be more thoroughly explored. But with a stand out performance from a young Robert Shaw (Jaws), and an effective film noir style adopted by underrated British 'B' film director Lance Comfort, it is worth watching.
Briefly this is a story of child abduction. A crook kidnaps the child of a wealthy industrialist and locks him in the room of an abandoned house with a time bomb. But woven into the narrative is the issue of class (particularly relevant in 1950s/early 1960s Britain). Robert Shaw is working class, and it is with him that our sympathies lie – not with Alec Clunes' arrogant Anthony Chester who believes that any problem can be solved if enough money is thrown at it.
Lines like "they probably met at a hunt ball" and "that's what I like about the police force...the informal relationship that exists between all ranks" delivered by John Gregson's honest detective about the social climbing Commissioner Bewley, highlight a sneering attitude towards class, rank and insignia. And ironically, it is the respectable and bourgeois Chester who commits murder.
Tomorrow at 10 works because it does not waste time with police procedure, and the result is taut and fast paced. Sharp and terse dialogue combine with Comfort's fluid camera work and Peter Pitt's economic editing to keep the viewer alert as every action seems to provoke an immediate reaction.
Finally, this review would not be complete without mentioning the opprobrious 'Golly' that appears in the film. Unjustly stigmatised by the politically correct, the Golly's origins are relatively innocent, and it is nice to know that there was a time when this harmless toy could be used without fears of reprisal. Here it serves its purpose as a totemic emblem of Robert Shaw's corrupted childhood, appropriate then that it should be stuffed with a time bomb and given to his child victim.
Briefly this is a story of child abduction. A crook kidnaps the child of a wealthy industrialist and locks him in the room of an abandoned house with a time bomb. But woven into the narrative is the issue of class (particularly relevant in 1950s/early 1960s Britain). Robert Shaw is working class, and it is with him that our sympathies lie – not with Alec Clunes' arrogant Anthony Chester who believes that any problem can be solved if enough money is thrown at it.
Lines like "they probably met at a hunt ball" and "that's what I like about the police force...the informal relationship that exists between all ranks" delivered by John Gregson's honest detective about the social climbing Commissioner Bewley, highlight a sneering attitude towards class, rank and insignia. And ironically, it is the respectable and bourgeois Chester who commits murder.
Tomorrow at 10 works because it does not waste time with police procedure, and the result is taut and fast paced. Sharp and terse dialogue combine with Comfort's fluid camera work and Peter Pitt's economic editing to keep the viewer alert as every action seems to provoke an immediate reaction.
Finally, this review would not be complete without mentioning the opprobrious 'Golly' that appears in the film. Unjustly stigmatised by the politically correct, the Golly's origins are relatively innocent, and it is nice to know that there was a time when this harmless toy could be used without fears of reprisal. Here it serves its purpose as a totemic emblem of Robert Shaw's corrupted childhood, appropriate then that it should be stuffed with a time bomb and given to his child victim.