"THE WRONG ARM OF THE LAW" (1963)

Starring

Peter Sellers

Lionel Jeffries

Bernard Cribbins

Davy Kaye

Nanette Newman

Directed by Cliff Owen

91 minutes

Marking the final time that Peter Sellers would make a small-scale "little" comedy for Britain for a considerable length of his career – the everlasting fame that would be given to him by The Pink Panther and Dr. Strangelove lurking just around the corner – it’s fortunate that he chose a good’un to go out on.

In the past I’ve been a little disparaging about The Wrong Arm of the Law. On first viewing, it didn’t grab me at all – I found it a bit too tame and a bit too dull. For some reason, British cinema was inundated with a slew of police comedies in the early 60s, including Too Many Crooks, Carry On Constable, On the Beat, and, of course, Two Way Stretch, which also starred Sellers and Lionel Jeffries. Indeed, "Wrong Arm" is often regarded as a sequel of sorts to this earlier Sellers crime caper (a sort of black-and-white and dumbed down version of "Porridge" made thirteen years before Ronnie Barker had a crack at it), though the similarities between them lie squarely in the fact that they share the same three leading actors. However, it didn’t strike me as having anything I hadn’t seen before, and I sort of trailed off after the rather repetitive first half-hour. Having seen it several more times since them, I’ve now grown on the film, and regard it as a rather delightful little movie that has no pretensions other than to make the audience smile. It’s not big, and it’s not especially clever, but it is fun.

It’s also written, in part, by Ray Galton and Alan Simpson, who are without doubt my favourite comedy writers, responsible for Hancock’s Half Hour, Steptoe and Son, and a sizeable portion of Frankie Howerd’s stand-up and radio material. To be honest, there’s nothing really in here that I would automatically recognise as being typical Galton & Simpson, though the high billing of a one Bill Kerr ("G’day, Tub!") does make one smile if one is in the know (oo-eck, I’ve gone all posh). There aren’t any of the melancholy soliloquies associated with HHH, nor are there any scenes that go on for more than four minutes – their television triumphs often had episodes in which characters would never even leave the room, spending the entire episode chatting to each other over the dining table. Still, it’s interesting if nothing else to have Sellers performing their work, and it reminds me how much of a shame it is that the single radio HHH that Sellers appeared in has long since been wiped.

Still, on to the plot. Well, there’s not much of it really. In fact the back of the DVD box pretty much tells you all you need to know in four sentences. The criminal organisations of London are thrown into a state of disarray when their plans are regularly scuppered by an IPO mob – "Impersonating a Police Officer", dontchaknow? Pearly Gates (Sellers), the cockney leader of one of the two most prominent gangs in the city (the other one being led by Nervous O’Toole AKA Bernard Cribbins), and posing as a French fashion expert making and selling ornate gowns to the rich female clientele of London, decides that enough is enough, and sets about uniting the criminals into a syndicate, before settling a temporary truce with the real police for the duration of the emergency. Everybody works together in the hope of capturing the heinous IPO sorts before they cause any more trouble. Quite how three men seem to be able to run rings around every single criminal and police officer in England’s capital is not really made clear - especially when you consider that said three men consist of a random faceless musclehead, Bill Kerr, and Doctor Who’s Griffin the Chef - though I suppose we’re not meant to think about that too much. Then again, they are getting inside information from Pearly Gates’s girlfriend, the sultry Valerie (Nanette Newman), which just goes to show that women are better than men after all. Perhaps.

Whatever the case, the story moves along amiably, though I still stand by the assertion that the first half hour is a bit too padded, containing as it does something like seven separate and successful instances of the IPO mob in action. The first few times set the story up for the audience, but once Pearly and Nervous arrange an emergency meeting with the entire felonious underworld you really just want the film to move on. Still, once the real police get involved the film shifts into another gear, thanks in part to the arrival of Inspector Parker (Lionel Jeffries), whose inability to deal with practically anything makes for some rather entertaining material, especially when played off against his fellow officers and Pearly Gates.

A film this slight really relies on its cast to give it that extra lift, and fortunately The Wrong Arm of the Law contains a lot of the cream of the 60s comedy scene in its 91 minutes.

Peter Sellers gives an assured and fairly laid-back performance, switching from suave Frenchman to cynical cockney with panache, and often getting the laughs through subtle underplaying of the part of Pearly Gates. Pearly is a fun chap to be around, and his cool exterior masks a fairly cool interior as well, so we’re not really seeing Sellers stretching himself here – though the character does come across as being totally natural and real-to-life (you feel you could probably walk into a pub and meet somebody just like him), even though the script itself is so fluffy and watered-down; such is the skill of the Sellers. However, a few romantic bedroom scenes with Nanette Newman make for vaguely uncomfortable viewing if watched with knowledge of Sellers’ typical behind-the-scenes habits. Nanette was one of many women that Peter apparently "fell in love" with, and indeed wanted to marry (for the record, she viewed him as a friend, no more, much like Sellers’ top crush Sophia Loren did). It also serves as an early indicator of where Sellers wanted to direct his career in later years, spiralling into a series of supposedly non-entity romance films in the late 60s and early 70s, seemingly made to satisfy his own self-indulgence and vanity (though, to be fair, several of them still make for good viewing – There’s a Girl in My Soup most notably). However, that’s really neither here nor there for the most part, and only occurs to me since I’m an ardent Sellers fan who’s read one too many biographies of the man.

Leading support comes in the more-than-capable form of Lionel Jeffries, always well worth your money and delivering a continuously funny performance as the typical "idiot" policeman who turns up in these sorts of pictures. It’s a hard type of part to pull off without making the character immensely irritating, but Lionel is a real pro and is always rather wonderful, even when saddled with a couple of torturously long-winded and not particularly amusing lines of dialogue (which I don’t for one moment believe were written by Galton & Simpson). Bernard Cribbins meanwhile affects a comedy Irish accent and makes Nervous O’Toole (who presumably has a Scottish cousin by the name of Hamish McHaggis) a nice chap to be around, even if he hasn’t got a hell of a lot to do. However, a short scene in which he inadvertently stumbles onto the catwalk at Pearly’s latest fashion show sticks in the memory for good reason. And Nanette Newman is utterly gorgeous, it must be said. One of the sexiest smiles I’ve yet seen in a British film and no mistake.

Other than that, we have the likes of Graham Stark, Bill Kerr, Mario Fabrizi ("You fascist communists!"), popular "scary foreigner" actor Tutte Lemkow, and John le Mesurier turning up to give us a nod and a wave, the latter chap in particular stealing all of his scenes even when paired with Lionel Jeffries (but then, John is one of my favourite actors after all). There’s even time for a quick Dennis Price cameo, which automatically makes any film utterly top notch (unless it’s directed by Jess Franco). And, to round off the cast, Dick Emery makes an appearance. Which I’m sure pleases somebody. Oh, and Michael Caine is apparently lurking somewhere in there, but I’ve never been able to spot him. If anybody does, please let me know – it drives me mad whenever I watch the film.

If I may diverge from the topic at hand, one thing that always strikes me is that Dennis Price seemed to spend the majority of his career in the 60s and early 70s playing nothing more than cameos, yet receiving astonishingly high billings regardless. This isn’t the case here, in which he isn’t even listed at all (due to the typically selective credits of the British comedy of the period), but his spots in the likes of School for Scoundrels, Pure Hell of St. Trinian’s, Murder Most Foul and Doctor in Distress often last no more than a couple of minutes, seemingly making a nonsense of the billing he usually received (often being listed no later than seventh). Apparently this can be put down to the strength of his earlier film work, mainly Kind Hearts and Coronets, though it still never ceases to confuse me (a subject I’ve already talked about in my Twins of Evil review – a film which, if you may recall, Price received second billing for, despite appearing in all of three/four scenes).

Anyway, if I may get back to The Wrong Arm of the Law, I can only say now that, erm, there’s little more for me to say. The music is fine, a bog-standard jazzy ensemble that may have you tapping your feet as you listen (though probably won’t), and the script occasionally throws out a few humdingers, particularly Pearly’s nonchalant "We are now flying directly above Bognor Regis at a height of seven thousand feet and travelling at approximately 250 knots; I think this is quite a fair show considering that this is my first solo flight." It’s also the sort of film that’s most easily remembered for its set pieces, mainly the "diplomatic negotiations" between Sellers and Jeffries at the funfair, and the final plan to capture the IPOs, involving the ramming of a decoy van and much shouting and running about, as well as a car zooming dramatically off a bridge. And there’s a car chase and a big punch-up to end it all with. Marvellous.

I started off this review thinking that I wouldn’t have much to say about this little pebble in the sea of 60s comedic cinema, though I seem to have rambled on for something like 1700 words so there must be something in it. If I may conclude, The Wrong Arm of the Law, whilst unlikely to suddenly gain pride of place in any of your top ten film lists, is a diverting and entertaining comedy headed by a great cast and featuring some scenes that’ll like as not have you smiling away to yourself, even if you don’t actually break out into anything approaching convulsive giggling.

Still, it’s well worth your time if you fancy it.

Score out of Ten