Left Right and Centre (Blu-ray Review)

  • Reviewed by: Stuart Galbraith IV
  • Review Date: Jan 16, 2025
  • Format: Blu-ray Disc
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Left Right and Centre (Blu-ray Review)

Director

Sidney Gilliat

Release Date(s)

1959 (November 19, 2024)

Studio(s)

Vale Film/British Lion (Indicator/Powerhouse Films)
  • Film/Program Grade: B-
  • Video Grade: A-
  • Audio Grade: A
  • Extras Grade: B+

Left Right and Centre (Blu-ray)

Buy it Here!

Review

British comedies of roughly 1946-64 were most commonly done in the Ealing Studios mold: small-scale but witty, eccentric character-driven films built on clever premises, satirical but usually with affection for their subject matters. In the U.S. these “little” comedies tended to play small arthouse-type cinemas, but some of the best ones had wider releases, and helped establish actors like Alec Guinness, Alastair Sim, and Peter Sellers beyond the U.K.

Left Right and Centre (1959) is a decidedly lesser example, a political satire too mild for its own good. Television quiz show personality Robert Wilcot (Ian Carmichael) is selected as the Tory (conservative) candidate for the provincial town of Earndale, a place he hasn’t visited since he was eight years old, in an upcoming by-election. His opponent, representing the Labour Party, is Stella Stoker (Patricia Bredin), a fishmonger’s daughter and graduate of the London School of Economics.

En route to Earndale aboard a train, they coincidentally are seated across from one another. She quickly realizes who he is but he does not recognize her, with the egotistic, pompous yet foolish Wilcot showing off, insulting her while inadvertently revealing politically damaging material about himself. At the station the two are met by their respective electoral agents (handlers): Harding-Pratt (Richard Wattis) representing the Tories, and Bert Glimmer (Eric Barker) representing Labour.

Wilcot goes to visit his uncle, Lord Wilcot (Alastair Sim), only to find that he’s monetized his country house, turning it into a bustling if very tacky tourist attraction. Wilcot learns it was chiefly his uncle who secured his nomination, mainly because of the additional tourist trade a Wilcot win would bring.

Each candidate has a suitor: Stoker’s childhood friend Bill Hemingway (Jack Hedley) and Wilcot’s sort-of girlfriend, Annabel (Moyra Fraser), the latter pursuing him mainly for the social status it would bring, married to an MP. However, witnessing each other’s rallies, Wilcot soon becomes smitten with Stoker, and she becomes besotted with him, despite their differences.

The main problem with Left Right and Centre (no commas in the title) is one common to most movies about politics and elections, a steadfast determination to offend no one, and to take no political side. It lacks the meatiness of better British comedies exploring similar themes, movies like I’m All Right, Jack (also 1959, also starring Carmichael) and even The Man in the White Suit (1951), which more bitingly spoofed labor and management types as well as the larger economic and social implications of their stories. Left Right and Centre takes the position that both sides of the political spectrum are essentially the same and equally innocuous. In one admittedly clever scene, a Tory VIP mistakenly attends a Labour Party rally, delivering a rousing speech the working-class audience embraces enthusiastically. Realizing the mistake, Harding-Pratt whisks the speaker to the conservative rally, where the very same speech is meet with equal enthusiasm.

Mostly, though, Left Right and Centre is a predictable love story, the meet-cute opening followed by each realizing they love their opponent, followed by a lot of trite, phony suspense when Stoker believes Wilcot is still in love with Annabel. None of this is particularly funny or romantic. A bit better is the rivalry between Harding-Pratt and Bert Glimmer, who eventually realize the best way to handle their respective candidates is to help each other; Richard Wattis and Eric Barker have more opportunity to be amusing, Barker especially funny in one scene on the telephone masquerading as a Scotsman, complete with exaggerated burr.

Alastair Sim has one of these extended cameo parts he frequently did in late-‘50s comedies. The relish he expresses monetizing his manor house by turning it into a tourist trap is also funny, but he’s not in the picture all that much. A few other familiar faces have amusing bits: Irene Handl as a Cockney voter, Hattie Jacques driving an election car blasting her support for Stoker.

The film, presented in 1.66:1 widescreen and black-and-white, mostly looks great on Indicator’s Blu-ray release. Some shots are razor-sharp, and obviously drawn from the original camera negative, though longer takes with fades or opticals (and there are lot in this feature) are a bit softer, but overall the presentation is excellent. The LPCM 2.0 mono is above average, and supported with optional English subtitles. The disc we watched was Region “A” encoded.

Supplements consist of a 21-minute video essay, Josephine Botting: Screening the Candidates, which is heavy on capsule bios of the cast and crew, but informative especially for those less familiar with ‘50s British film names. The BEHP Interview with John Box is an archival audio recording that effectively plays as an audio commentary track, while an official commentary is provided by film historian Michael Brooke. There’s also an image gallery and a 17-minute newsreel/educational-type short, Election in Britain (1960).

The Digital Bits was provided only a check disc with no packaging or the 44-page booklet with new essays by Matthew Bailey and Melanie Williams, among other things.

- Stuart Galbraith IV