277 - A Canterbury Tale, 1944, United Kingdom. Dir. Michael Powell.
Have you got a gun?
This is Chillingbourne. Not Chicago.
American Sergeant Bob Johnson is asking the question.
He has been assigned to escort a woman from the train, British land girl Alison Smith.
She is from London but is coming to work here in Kent. She lived here three years ago with the man she loved, and they had a camper (which she calls a caravan), which after his being shot down in battle she has been keeping in storage.
Johnson got off the train in Chillingbourne when he misheard station agent Thomas Duckett (a la Thomas a Becket?) shout out, "Next stop, Canterbury!" Johnson thought he said that this stop was Canterbury, so he leapt off after the train started moving again, and the two of them got into an argument. Duckett provides comedic relief to a movie that is already a comedy.
British soldier Peter Gibbs is with Johnson and Smith, having arrived on assignment, so he is made part of the escort.
But as the threesome walk from the train station, a strange man in a tree pours glue into Alison Smith's hair.
You read that line correctly.
A strange man in a tree pours glue into Alison Smith's hair.
She screams.
He runs.
They catch a glimpse of his uniform. A Home Guard uniform. And they corner him into a window at the Town Hall.
Now they are in the Town Hall. Between 11:00 pm and 12:00 am. And they are causing a stir.
Johnson asks the question of the local security officer. "Have you got a gun?" And he answers in turn. "This is Chillingbourne. Not Chicago."
It is 1943 (when the filming is taking place), and for this Chicago is already known.
Scooby Doo and the Mystery of The Glue Man
No, we are not watching Scooby Doo--it has not been invented yet--but we could be. Peter Gibbs could be Fred, handsome and strong. Alison could be Daphne, pretty and finding herself in a jam. Bob could be Shaggy combined with a male version of Velma, cavalierly American while thoughtfully putting the pieces together.
There is no dog.
But this aspect of the film feels like this kind of mystery story. Light. Not life-threatening. Somewhat creepy. Humorous. And strange.
And it becomes one of the most unusual premises ever made in the history of film.
Who dumped glue into Alison Smith's hair?
If you saw that premise advertised, would you rush out to the movie theater to see it?
Now imagine hearing the movie-man voice-over artist in that deep, dramatic voice in the trailer--
"A strange man has dumped glue into Alison Smith's hair. Three strangers united by fate must work together to solve the mystery. Meanwhile, Alison must find a way to wash it out. But time is running out. Soon they will miss the next train. And will be forced to walk the Pilgrim Road, together . . . to Canterbury!"
And the mystery builds.
It is not only Alison but also other women throughout the town.
The mystery man has been pouring glue in women's hair once every eight days between 11:00 pm and midnight.
Why?
The train will take you straight to Canterbury. But pilgrims choose to walk the winding road. Over the hill. Around the bend. When they arrive they will receive a blessing.
It has been happening not for hundreds but for thousands of years.
Just as the Vatican in Rome is the center of the Catholic Church, so also Canterbury is the center of the Episcopal, or Anglican, Church, The Church of England.
St. Augustine as the Apostle to Kent founded England's first monastery there in the early 600s.
St. Alphege was murdered there in 1012, which began the custom of pilgrimages.
St. Thomas a Becket, the Archbishop of Canterbury, was famously murdered there in 1170.
Geoffrey Chaucer wrote The Canterbury Tales, from 1387 to 1400, about a group of pilgrims going to visit St. Thomas a Becket's shrine at the Canterbury Cathedral.
Canterbury is situated on the River Stour, a narrow, winding, meandering river.
And like the Stour, and like the Old Pilgrim Road--going over the hill, around the bend--the plot of this film winds and meanders, moving this way, moving that way, pausing to look at this, stopping to take in that.
It is part mystery and part travelogue, part war drama and part romantic comedy, partly inspired by expressionism and partly inspired by newsreels. Peter von Bagh calls it "mythical neorealism." With static shots, moving shots, dolly shots, handheld shots, filmed on set, filmed on location, with professional actors, with non-actors.
One of the stars is a non-actor. The American Sergeant Bob Johnson is played by Sergeant John Sweet, U.S. Army. Reminding us of the non-actor, war hero Harold Russell. The only person ever to win two Oscars for one role in one movie. As Homer Parrish. Two years later. In William Wyler's The Best Years of Our Lives (1946).
Sheila Sim, who plays Alison Smith in this film, would marry Richard Attenborough just about one year later. They would act together in both plays and films. He directed his own war film, A Bridge Too Far (1977) and won two Oscars for Gandhi (1982). He also directed A Chorus Line (1985), Cry Freedom (1987), Chaplin (1992), and Shadowlands (1993). Many know him as Hammod, the old man in Jurassic Park or as Kris Kringle in the 1992 version of Miracle on 34th Street. They would stay married for 69 years, until his death, and they would become The Rt. Hon. Baron and Baroness Attenborough, CBE, or Lord and Lady Attenborough.
There are conversations in this film about the width of streets and beds, the architecture of village inns, tea and coffee, the orientation of sergeant's stripes, the timber and lumber industries, including seasons for treating different species of wood, the art of the wheelwright, blacksmithing, farming methods, city life in London versus country life in Kent, English versus America words, the sizes of rivers, career opportunities for organists, the lives of sales clerks, garden furniture, picnic baskets, hours of pub operation, things to do on Friday nights, things to do on Sunday afternoons, things sold at the grocer's, the keeping of books, trash collection, duties of magistrates, police procedures, wartime postal customs, and the sending and receiving of letters between soldiers and their girls back home.
There is an entire sequence where the film turns into an Our Gang/Little Rascals action comedy short featuring children playing at war. On the one hand, the children's battle functions symbolically like Lord of the Flies as a microcosm for the adult world. On the other hand, it functions practically as the means by which Bob Johnson will recruit many young soldiers to help him sift through the garbage.
The film begins and ends in the belfry. We watch as the bells peel.
And we listen as we move from Allan Gray's score to Bach's Toccata and Fugue in D Minor to "Onward, Christian Soldiers."
Onward, Christian soldiers, marching as to war,
With the cross of Jesus going on before.
Christ, the royal Master, leads against the foe;
Forward into battle see His banners go!
Onward, Christian soldiers, marching as to war,
With the cross of Jesus going on before.
Whatever else this film may be, it is wartime propaganda for a cause in which the filmmakers believe.
In which the entire Western World--Christendom--believes.
We see falconry at work.
The hawk flies, "while all about it
Wind shadows of the indignant desert birds."
Then the hawk turns into a Supermarine Spitfire and the falconer into a soldier.
Turning and turning in the widening gyre . . . .
The fighter plane certainly cannot hear the pilot.
Michael Powell was from Kent.
And he has made his own pilgrimage back home.
Home to this land that has been bombed already at least twice.
He shows us the devastation.
He walks us through the ruins.
These landscapes are personal to him.
If only he had lived with the technology of Virtual Reality.
He seems to want to make us breathe the very air. And lie in the tall grass. And feel the sun and the wind against our skin. And smell the flowers. And watch the river.
And see the cathedral.
And hear the organ.
And arrive at our destination.
And succeed in our pilgrimage.
And be blessed.
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