David Barr is the manager and chief designer of a British shipyard (when we still built ships). The shipyard is in financial trouble but Barr has a design for a new ship that will save them... See full summary »
Essentially a re-release of Michael Powell's 'The Edge of the World (1937)', but with color 'bookends' in which director and actors revisit the island of Foula forty years later and talk about their experiences.
A prominent neurosurgeon relates to his students in medical school a story about an affair he had with a married woman and how, after the affair was over, the woman one day fell out a ... See full summary »
John Smith, a middle-aged married man, is made redundant by his employer; at a loss and despairing, his friend Harry Jones suggests applying to the Embankment Fellowship Centre, a charity ... See full summary »
David Barr is the manager and chief designer of a British shipyard (when we still built ships). The shipyard is in financial trouble but Barr has a design for a new ship that will save them all. Can he get the ship built in spite of the opposition from his own bankers as well as the rival shipbuilders and their infiltrated militants. Written by
Steve Crook <email@example.com>
I expect I'm like most people: I only sat down to watch this film because of the director's name. In many ways it's exactly what I expected. Direction is adroit, the boats and the boat-yards are lovingly filmed; it's by no means a bad bit of work. Money, of course, had to be shaved off the budget somewhere, and - surprisingly, given Powell's later career - the score was the first thing to go: there's a quotation from Smetana's `The Moldau' at the beginning, another at the end, and that's it. Also, no-one had time to polish the script. The romance (for instance) is worked in with such perfunctory terseness it will probably make you laugh.
I was surprised to see myself caught up in the story. The crusading hero (David Barr, played by Leslie Banks) has to be one of the most abrasive the screen has seen: a monomaniac who barks out insults at everyone around him in clipped tones and then wonders why he isn't more popular. I won't even comment on his moral code... And yet, there's no doubt I was on his side. I was even conned into liking him. By the end of the film the most critical thought I could manage was, `Well, it would be a pity to lose the British shipping industry just because its champion is such a jerk.'
Many critics (well ... three, to my knowledge) see the British shipping industry as a metaphor for the British film industry. I'm not sure if they're right or not. But `Red Ensign' is an argument for Britain's quota system in another sense: it shows that directors of obvious talent were allowed an apprenticeship, making films that, on examination decades later, really aren't so bad.
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