The always charming David Niven, ex-Guards (Carrington), and always convincing Allan Cuthbertson, ex RAAF (Hennicker), strike big sparks off each other in this static military courtroom drama, but that's the only proper entertainment 'Carrington, VC' has to offer. The rest of it is a terribly, terribly middle-class (and low-budget) army court procedural with Geoffrey Keen as presiding officer. Geoffrey Keen is typecast as the self-important little man behind a big desk in much British film and TV of the period, and in this he gives his usual lightweight, nasal turn, along with many familiar and clearly aging Brit stalwarts who give the same routine whether in a comedy - or in uniform - or not.
The whole point is whether the dashing Carrington's nemesis lies on oath about him 'borrowing' £125 from the barracks safe, ticking many socio-cultural boxes for a 1950's UK audience and weakly echoing 'The Winslow Boy'.
**SPOILER**
You are rewarded for sticking with the film by having Carrington found guilty, but disappointingly, the dastardly Hennicker's ultimate come-uppance is not in the film. Cuthbertson would have owned that.
These days, watching women in unattractive uniforms calling one another 'Vel' for 'Val' gets old very quickly. Though if that does turn you on, the crucial, and almost throwaway telephonists' scene that sets up Carrington's (unseen) appeal will really, um, appeal.
It's only Niven's easy charm, and Cuthbertson's fulminating uptightness that gave me any reason to care. The rest is khaki-coloured cardboard, mouldering away in a damp, forgotten cupboard. Skip this and rent 'Tunes of Glory (1960)' instead.
The whole point is whether the dashing Carrington's nemesis lies on oath about him 'borrowing' £125 from the barracks safe, ticking many socio-cultural boxes for a 1950's UK audience and weakly echoing 'The Winslow Boy'.
**SPOILER**
You are rewarded for sticking with the film by having Carrington found guilty, but disappointingly, the dastardly Hennicker's ultimate come-uppance is not in the film. Cuthbertson would have owned that.
These days, watching women in unattractive uniforms calling one another 'Vel' for 'Val' gets old very quickly. Though if that does turn you on, the crucial, and almost throwaway telephonists' scene that sets up Carrington's (unseen) appeal will really, um, appeal.
It's only Niven's easy charm, and Cuthbertson's fulminating uptightness that gave me any reason to care. The rest is khaki-coloured cardboard, mouldering away in a damp, forgotten cupboard. Skip this and rent 'Tunes of Glory (1960)' instead.