Barry Jones is a devoted atomic scientist who gets religion and believes that his entire life has been given over to purposes of evil. He steals an atomic device and walks off with it, then mails the Prime Minister a demand that England stop the manufacture of atomic weapons. If he doesn't get the desired response in seven days, he'll detonate the device near the seat of government. Everything in a radius of twelve square miles will be demolished.
The British government is not so easily cowed. The PM decides to remain with his staff in London, while the population of the city is evacuated, and a thorough search is made of London's neighborhoods in pursuit of Jones and/or the sinister black bag he's carrying around.
This is a serious and thought-provoking movie with considerable suspense, nicely directed by the Boultings and with solid performances from the cast, particularly Andre Morell as Superintendent G. W. Folland. Olive Sloane has an important supporting role as an aging show-business floozy who puts Jones up for the night -- it's never made clear whether the kitchen is open or not -- and is later held captive by him. However, her chipper character and cute dog probably aren't as amusing as the writers may have thought.
There are some amusing moments amid the drama. While the soldiers, in full field kit, are searching all the houses in all the rooms in the city, we get glimpses of one soldier going through a drawer filled with a lady's lingerie, pulling out a pair of what he unquestionably would have called knickers, glancing around, then stuffing the item in his blouse. Another grunt halts momentarily in his search through a pub, long enough to take a healthy swig out of an open bottle.
And two soldiers who have been called up to help in the evacuation and search are cleaning one of the trucks. A non-com passes by and snaps out an order. When he's gone, one of the soldiers explodes in a bitter tirade about working hours, in which every other word is a monstrous curse rendered as "flippin'". When the rage is exhausted, the second soldier nods vigorously and comments, "You're flippin' right, Charlie." There isn't much to laugh at in the rest of the story, but there's a good deal to think about. Jones, as a person, is played sympathetically but is written as a hopeless idealist. The PM explains it all for us, the audience. Jones pays the price of all hopeless idealists. He hasn't harmed anyone but the entire city is upset about him, and besides the pet dogs and parrots have had to be abandoned. Nice shots of deserted Trafalgar Square, Westminster Bridge, Picadilly, and other tourist spots. These shots are common in end-of-days movies but I always kind of like them.
Despite the graininess it shares with many other post-war British films, it's a professional production all around. And I can't help noticing that, now that the Cold War is finished, Jones' moral position carries more weight than ever. At one point, he quotes Milton: "Dark, dark, dark, amid the blaze of noon." Maybe the chief problem is not the atomic bomb but human nature, which seems intent on wielding it.
The British government is not so easily cowed. The PM decides to remain with his staff in London, while the population of the city is evacuated, and a thorough search is made of London's neighborhoods in pursuit of Jones and/or the sinister black bag he's carrying around.
This is a serious and thought-provoking movie with considerable suspense, nicely directed by the Boultings and with solid performances from the cast, particularly Andre Morell as Superintendent G. W. Folland. Olive Sloane has an important supporting role as an aging show-business floozy who puts Jones up for the night -- it's never made clear whether the kitchen is open or not -- and is later held captive by him. However, her chipper character and cute dog probably aren't as amusing as the writers may have thought.
There are some amusing moments amid the drama. While the soldiers, in full field kit, are searching all the houses in all the rooms in the city, we get glimpses of one soldier going through a drawer filled with a lady's lingerie, pulling out a pair of what he unquestionably would have called knickers, glancing around, then stuffing the item in his blouse. Another grunt halts momentarily in his search through a pub, long enough to take a healthy swig out of an open bottle.
And two soldiers who have been called up to help in the evacuation and search are cleaning one of the trucks. A non-com passes by and snaps out an order. When he's gone, one of the soldiers explodes in a bitter tirade about working hours, in which every other word is a monstrous curse rendered as "flippin'". When the rage is exhausted, the second soldier nods vigorously and comments, "You're flippin' right, Charlie." There isn't much to laugh at in the rest of the story, but there's a good deal to think about. Jones, as a person, is played sympathetically but is written as a hopeless idealist. The PM explains it all for us, the audience. Jones pays the price of all hopeless idealists. He hasn't harmed anyone but the entire city is upset about him, and besides the pet dogs and parrots have had to be abandoned. Nice shots of deserted Trafalgar Square, Westminster Bridge, Picadilly, and other tourist spots. These shots are common in end-of-days movies but I always kind of like them.
Despite the graininess it shares with many other post-war British films, it's a professional production all around. And I can't help noticing that, now that the Cold War is finished, Jones' moral position carries more weight than ever. At one point, he quotes Milton: "Dark, dark, dark, amid the blaze of noon." Maybe the chief problem is not the atomic bomb but human nature, which seems intent on wielding it.