The Sandwich Man was probably pretty unfunny even when it debuted in 1966, and is worth a look these days if only for its London locations (spot the poster for The Who in the brief Soho scene!) and the truly bizarre end titles. The film boasts a large cast of (mostly) long-dead British actors and comedians in what is essentially a vehicle for ex-Goon Michael Bentine, who spends much of the film walking round London as the titular Sandwich Man with a stupid grin on his face. For some reason, it reminds me of a British effort to make a star-studded comedy along the lines of 'Its a mad, mad, mad, mad world': mercifully, it doesn't attempt to emulate the length of that film. The plot, as far as it goes, follows Horace Quilby (Bentine) on a typical work day as he traipses round the West End with a 'sandwich' board that advertises a local tailoring shop slung over his shoulders. To add spice (!) to the story, he is also a pigeon racing enthusiast and is eagerly awaiting the return of his favourite pigeon Esmerelda, who is racing from Bordeaux back to London. To be fair, the first 30 minutes are pleasant enough and showcase parts of London that are now long lost under high-rise developments: the bpmbed-out docklands of the East End where Quilby lives, Billingsgate fish market and such like (and there's a good visual gag where Diana Dors walks though the market, singing the praises of TVs Dr Kildare to Anna Quayle, intercut with scenes of the fishmongers gutting fish). The film also depicts the multicultural society, based on successive waves of immigration, that thrived in such areas, though the racial stereotypes come thick and fast. There's some amusing character turns from telly stalwarts such as David Lodge, Bernard Cribbens, Roger Delgado (Dr Who's original 'Master') and Ian Hendry. But then the film starts to slump badly. First, we get far too much of the perennially unfunny Norman Wisdom as an Irish priest running a Boys Club gymnasium, and then a succession of cameos by the Great and the Good of British Light Entertainment which sadly fail to showcase their talents particularly well: there's a rather silly scene featuring Terry-Thomas in shorts as a scoutmaster on 'Bob-a-job' week; Harry H Corbett as a floor manager at the London Palladium putting on his best Harold Steptoe voice, no doubt to please his TV fans, and Stanley Holloway pops up as a horticultural expert in Hyde Park (probably the best vignette of the lot). Even Fred Emney - someone else who I never found funny - is squeezed into the film, doing his usual 'grumpy fat man' schtick of raising one eyebrow then the other. Eventually, having reunited two quarrelling lovers along the way, Mr Quilby makes it back home later that evening only to find that Esmerelda has only gone and won the bloomin' race. Cor, stone the crows! Cue impromptu street party and cut to the scene-stealing end credits - shots of two men wrestling in the ring, intercut with close ups of a 60s 'dolly bird': the highlight of a rather dull film.
Review of The Sandwich Man
