February

The second in Mancunian’s ‘Somewhere’ series, Somewhere in Camp reunited much of the team assembled for the 1940 Somewhere in England, with producer F. W. Baker, and director John E. Blakeley co-writing the screenplay with Arthur Mertz. Frank Randle and Harry Korris headlined, supported by the spiffingly gentlemanly Dan Young and the adenoidal Enoch of Robbie Vincent. Beyond these, the performances must be endured. Without Randle and his cohorts the result would be unbearable; with them, it’s a delight. When they leave the screen, leave the room.

Randle, the toothless, manic Puck, literally crashes into the film, initiating a series of chaotic set-pieces that probably eclipse similar attempts during the decade to bring vibrant idiocy to the screen. ‘Eee,’ he tells his audience, ‘I’m full o’ gas.’ The destruction of a billiard table, and the gang’s reactions at a medical examination (followed by Randle’s contortions in a dentist’s chair), provide low comedy at its most raw. Beside Randle’s futile attempts to display the usual social graces – try as he does, with emphatic politeness – his sexual prowess knows no bounds. The very glimpse of a passing woman stirs him: ‘Ooh, I’ll warm yee.’ The woman who ignores such refined attention is quickly identified as ‘Frozen Fanny’.

One can almost (but not quite) hear Max Miller daring as much, except that Miller’s genius belonged to the stage, not to film, where his presence is irritating. Randle, on the other hand, makes no concessions for the camera. This, he seems to be informing the audience, is what I am; take me as you please. His is an elemental talent.

Alongside the comedy, a romance of young love is played out at its most theatrically ridiculous by fresh-faced John Singer, only recently a boy actor playing Tobias in Tod Slaughter’s Sweeney Todd, and Charm School hopeful Antoinette Lupino, billed as Tonie Lupino.