An intriguing addition to the cycle of late-1940s British film noir, Daybreak
lacks the reputation of Brighton Rock (d. John Boulting, 1948), but is equally
menacing and utterly compelling. Made in 1946 but shelved for two years due to
censorship difficulties, the film was conceived as a vehicle for Ann Todd in the
wake of her success in The Seventh Veil (d. Compton Bennett, 1945). Its delayed
release stymied any plans to repeat the previous film's box office takings, but
the film's mood suggests wider ambitions anyway. This is an altogether darker
film with a fantastic central premise unpalatable to the immediate postwar,
forward-looking audience.
Like the film's main character, Daybreak has a double identity. On the
surface, melodrama and thriller genre conventions push the unlikely story along
- within the first reel we have two deaths, attempted murder, child abuse and a
marriage proposal. But it is the style of the filmmaking that strikes beneath
the inflated plotlines. Producer/screenwriters Muriel and Sydney Box and
director Compton Bennett excel in creating a shadowy Britain populated by lost
figures trying to pull their lives together. Despite a malevolent villain, this
is adult drama, dealing with the fragility of human relationships. In this
sense, the Bennett and Box team made a casting coup with Eric Portman. As Eddie
Tribe/Mendover, Portman evokes the trauma ingrained in a generation of returning
soldiers attempting to separate their domestic present from their brutal past.
His bleak portrayal of a man struggling to accept his homicidal actions is
tender and sincere.
In 1946, Portman was at the peak of his career, gaining plaudits for his
respectable British officers in rousing war movies but developing a rich
sideline in social misfits. By the time of Daybreak's release Portman's
notoriety for these warped loners was established. His mastery of this
public persona - his ability to evoke the hidden menace beneath his forthright
cheer and the cliché of Northern hard talk - raises Eddie alongside A Canterbury
Tale's (d. Michael Powell/Emeric Pressburger, 1944) Thomas Colpeper as one of
Portman's greatest creations. He steals the show from a strong Ann Todd, who's
adulterous Frankie can't quite match Eddie's inner turmoil. This reversal -
shifting focus from the unknown femme fetales of American or French film noir to
the neurotic male lead - is perhaps Daybreak's greatest achievement. It
certainly is a clue to the indefinable difference we find in British
noir.
Dylan Cave
|