If Never Let Go had been made a decade earlier, the plot would almost
inevitably have had a 'little man' battling with the help of some paternalist
authority figures. However, when the film entered production in late 1959 it
reflected a far colder, less benevolent Britain. As such, it deserves to be
compared with The League of Gentlemen (d. Basil Dearden, 1960) for its sense of
unease with the prevailing social mood.
John Cummings is a physically unimpressive figure, who hopes his new Anglia
(supplied to Independent Artists by a very publicity-conscious Ford Motors) will
lend him a touch of affordable glamour as well as allowing him to increase his
sales calls. The film clearly suggests that his dreams of affluence are destined
to remain unfulfilled. His repayments are nearly beyond his means and the new
Anglia is swiftly stolen. Cummings is a man variously pitied and despised by his
colleagues, his employer, his clients, the police - even his wife. One of the
most intriguing aspects of the film is the implication that Cummings' main enemy
is not so much the criminal mastermind Meadows but himself.
By contrast, Lionel Meadows is a dapper figure with a large car showroom, a
taste for imported Buicks and a craving for respectability - his constant
watchword is 'legitimate business'. A shrewd operator, he leaves most of the
dirty work to his unintelligent henchmen. If Cummings is to confront Meadows, it
means leaving his lower-middle-class bolthole to enter a neon-lit Hades of seedy
cafes and jukebox music frequented by Teddy boys and sinister men in black
shirts and white ties. One particular strength of the film is the way it allows
Adam Faith to make Tommy Towers a believable teenager instead of the familiar
'folk devil' of so many British films of the time.
Richard Todd brings to Cummings truthfulness and great conviction, but the
real acting honours go to Peter Sellers, who makes Meadows one of the most
frightening villains in British cinema. As a highly intelligent strategist whose
inner rage is barely concealed by a slick exterior, Meadows anticipates Richard
Burton's Vic Dakin in Villain (d. Michael Tuchner, 1971) as a hood who secretly
yearns for social acceptance.
Andrew Roberts
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