Larry (John Cairney - a sort of lower league James Mason) is about to get married. Only problem is he's doing a 5 year stretch for armed robbery. Not that it really is a problem; the authorities have no intention of postponing his big day. How nice. Accompanied to the registry office by a couple of prison guards, dual blows to the solar plexus(es) are enough to see Larry on his toes with the help, that is, of Barbara (Jennifer Daniel), a "showgirl without roots", and her handy Lambretta.
We (and they) then meet up with Sam (Russell Waters), a workman covered head to toe in the sort of grease and grime that was last seen on a Victorian chimney sweep. No matter, Larry nips round to where a "friend" (a secretary at the bank he blagged) is minding the loot - only to find that the bird has flown (married) and the new lady tenant is a bit of an old goer who's obviously up for a pounding from Larry! Nothing doing, love, as Larry's blood pressure is about to rise for a different reason his secretary's new hubby is none other than super sleuth, Mandall of Scotland Yard.
Larry, now well and truly on the trot and in pursuit of his money, is being tracked by Detective Inspector Jock Bruce, played by Harry H Corbett - possibly the most unintentionally dreadful actor of all time. He tries so hard though, bless. His portrayal of Bruce is firmly of the stock character policeman variety. Jock Bruce is a boy from the provinces, with perhaps a chip on his shoulder. The vague provinces tag allows Harry's accent to careen uncomfortably all the way up the North East (though curiously not Scotland) via Lancashire.
Set in that forgotten period of 1960-63, where the 50s had ended but the 60s hadn't really begun (that was with the first Beatles LP, culture fans - might have been interesting when Larkin originally said it) "Marriage of Convenience" features pipe smoking police, boxy motor cars going clang clang and a gaggle of pre Twiggy big hipped dancers moving round inertly, corralled by a chap at a piano shouting stuff like: "It's all ragged. Come on, girls!"
Director Clive Donner went on to direct Swinging London fair like "Here We Go Round The Mulberry Bush" but this film only equates to another unremarkable entry in the Edgar Wallace series.
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