I have to admit off the bat that I do not know much about British film noir, but every sample I find is of the highest quality.
Director John Lemont - about whom I had never heard or read a word - gets THE SHAKEDOWN (UK, 1959) off the ground with an attention-grabbing conversation between two of Her Majesty's dungeon guests, enlightening the viewer as to what a piece of work with nasty plans Terence Morgan (Augie, short for Augustus) really is.
The way he goes about rebuilding his crime niche by taking advantage of just about everyone surrounding him is telescopic, hardly forcing you to suspend your disbelief, and actually keeping you riveted, thanks to gritty and realistic dialogue, incredibly effective B&W cinematography, and top drawer acting from all, down to the smallest part.
Terence Morgan astounded me as the ruthless villain, handosme, astute and polished enough to be attractive to the viewer despite his callous actions; Hazel Court insinuates herself into Morgan's setup so subtly that only a couple of clues suggest to the most attentive of viewers that she is a police plant. She is extremely effective as a copper who more than fits the bill as model... for all the right reasons, including a figure and legs to die for! Robert Beatty, as Inspector Jarvis, is the soul of police efficiency.
The score is terrific. It heightens the tension as Morgan plans and carries out his revenge on a rival gangster, robbing him of a large amount of cash in a memorable sequence involving a lift. Mind you, there is a continuous drum beat that is never loud but so suggestive that it keeps your ears up throughout. The title song, THE SHAKEDOWN, is effecive and typical of 1959/1960s British films.
The only reason I do not give this noir masterpiece a deserved 10/10 is that Donald Pleasence is underused. He carries his part well enough - for once, no suggestion of mad or evil genius, quite the contrary, he is a humble and out of luck photographer here - but all of a sudden the viewer hears that he has taken to boozing and you see not another frame of him - he just disappears.
The ending is one of the best I have seen in any noir: the police plant has actually developed feelings for the criminal, and is really taken aback by his final insult.
I was more than surprised, I was positively flabbergasted at the quality and intelligence of this British noir gem: it blew me! 9/10.
Director John Lemont - about whom I had never heard or read a word - gets THE SHAKEDOWN (UK, 1959) off the ground with an attention-grabbing conversation between two of Her Majesty's dungeon guests, enlightening the viewer as to what a piece of work with nasty plans Terence Morgan (Augie, short for Augustus) really is.
The way he goes about rebuilding his crime niche by taking advantage of just about everyone surrounding him is telescopic, hardly forcing you to suspend your disbelief, and actually keeping you riveted, thanks to gritty and realistic dialogue, incredibly effective B&W cinematography, and top drawer acting from all, down to the smallest part.
Terence Morgan astounded me as the ruthless villain, handosme, astute and polished enough to be attractive to the viewer despite his callous actions; Hazel Court insinuates herself into Morgan's setup so subtly that only a couple of clues suggest to the most attentive of viewers that she is a police plant. She is extremely effective as a copper who more than fits the bill as model... for all the right reasons, including a figure and legs to die for! Robert Beatty, as Inspector Jarvis, is the soul of police efficiency.
The score is terrific. It heightens the tension as Morgan plans and carries out his revenge on a rival gangster, robbing him of a large amount of cash in a memorable sequence involving a lift. Mind you, there is a continuous drum beat that is never loud but so suggestive that it keeps your ears up throughout. The title song, THE SHAKEDOWN, is effecive and typical of 1959/1960s British films.
The only reason I do not give this noir masterpiece a deserved 10/10 is that Donald Pleasence is underused. He carries his part well enough - for once, no suggestion of mad or evil genius, quite the contrary, he is a humble and out of luck photographer here - but all of a sudden the viewer hears that he has taken to boozing and you see not another frame of him - he just disappears.
The ending is one of the best I have seen in any noir: the police plant has actually developed feelings for the criminal, and is really taken aback by his final insult.
I was more than surprised, I was positively flabbergasted at the quality and intelligence of this British noir gem: it blew me! 9/10.