Growing up in England we are blessed to have the comedic genii of the Boulting Brothers and Ealing Studios. Films like Kind Hearts & Cornets, the Lavender Hill Mob, and School for Scoundrels, comedies that make us root for the crook even though we know (thanks to censorship) that they won't get away with it. Private's Progress (the precursor to I'm Alright Jack) is in the same mould. The sublime Ian Carmichael, the Machiavellian Terry-Thomas, the spivvy Richard Attenborough, the slightly otherworldly John LeMesurier - perfect stereotypes of post-war Albion. Movies like this are made to be watched on wet Sunday afternoons, cozy slippers and a pot of tea, perhaps even a biscuit or two or a slice of rich fruitcake dense with candied peel and other goodies. Safe to watch with your Auntie Doris (no sex, violence or swearing, no sir), a film that carries itself purely on a clever script and a rattling pace. Complete fluff, of course, but just the ticket as the winter's evening closes in and you're dreading returning to work on Monday. File under pretty much anything from that era with Alec Guinness (may his name be praised), Sink the Bismark, Ice Cold in Alex, Rommell, or Dambusters. British through and through, and a jolly good thing too. They don't make movies like this anymore, more's the pity.
Review of Private's Progress
