Touches You

Best movie ever!

A terrific literary drama and character piece that shows how the process of creating art can be seen differently by those doing it and those looking at it from the outside.

It's the kind of movie you'll want to see a second time with someone who hasn't seen it yet, to remember what it was like to watch it for the first time.

I'm surprised that so many people seem to be disappointed with the ending of this film. The story is typical of a 1950s British crime film with good performances by all - but this ending makes it a bit different. It has the inevitable American lead, in this case the excellent Lloyd Bridges, to make it attractive to the US. The story is seen through to the expected ending but then we find that the story was not perhaps located where we thought it was. It does not mean that the story, still a fictional one of course, becomes any less entertaining because of it. As I get older I realise that an "unconscious" mind, so to speak, is capable of great detail and can set many random and complex problems for which it then tries to find solutions, it must then try to resolve at least some of them before it returns to full consciousness. The clues are there, remember the limping man being followed to the riverside, where did he go? Yes, the shock of the ending is sudden, but when you wake up it's usually like that, all may be forgotten in a flash. Did the writer of the original story or the director think of it like that, or was it just an attempt to be different, a joke, just for the sake of it? I don't know but I liked it.

Convoluted murder mystery. So who shot Kendall Brown from a distance as he was exiting a London airport. It wasn't Frank Prior (Bridges) who gets involved through happenstance, which wouldn't have happened if girlfriend Pauline (Lister) had met him at the airport as she was supposed to. Then there's singer Helene (Cordet) who's also implicated, that is, when she's not performing in a magic act. Anyhow, Scotland Yard's on the case, so the limping culprit better watch out. At least that's the way things appear.Bridges fans like myself may be disappointed since his role is clearly secondary to Lister's and somewhat incidental to the plot. It may be that director Endfield did him an employment favor since both were targets of the Hollywood blacklist. After all, they had worked together brilliantly on the gripping Sound Of Fury (1950). There're a number of nice touches. I especially chuckled over the randy young police inspector (Phillips) when he trades meaningful looks with the busty landlady's daughter (Marsh). It's amusingly done. Also, the magician's act is novel accompaniment to Helene's singing. Too bad, however, we don't get a better look at the effects that pass by unhighlighted. I'm guessing the bummer ending was because the plot's complexity made tying up all the loose ends darn difficult. Anyway, it's a pretty good time passer, ending or no, with a number of entertaining touches.

When in the middle of this film, Lloyd Bridges asks about a certain clue, "What do you make of it?", you may, like me, expect the flamboyant Johnny from "Airplane!" to jump in and say, "A hat, a broach, a pterodactyl!". Yes, like Peter Graves, Robert Stack and Leslie Nielsen, the Bridges patriarch started off in dramatic roles, yet found his niche in spoofing his own image through comedy. It is difficult to separated him from these roles even though he originally played either heavies or action heroes before changing his image by stating, "Looks like I picked the wrong week to stop sniffing glue!" Here, he's all serious, an American visiting England who was at the airport when a sniper shot a mystery man who turns out to be the other man in a triangle with Bridges' estranged girlfriend (Moira Lister). Bridges learns the truth and details about his girlfriend's secret life that leads him into all sorts of intrigue.American stars in British film noir and thrillers added a smooth touch to the stiff upper lip pretense of the English in all sorts of parts, good and evil, and the results could be very mixed at times. The Hammer Noir was decidedly mixed, and this ranks among them as an acceptable, if unremarkable, thriller with moments of tension and other sequences sometimes dull and slowly paced. Bridges stands out like a sore thumb among the rest of the cast, and if it wasn't for some crafty dark photography, this might well have fallen below the mark.So try to put aside your desire to quote him from "Airplane!" or the "Hot Shots" movies and instead, take a trip into the dives of London, Music Halls and pups and let Bridges remind you of what a serious actor he used to be before a diving suit and the Zucker Brothers changed his image forever.

This turkey is reasonably well roasted, and even features some side dishes that are interesting to learn more about. The ending of The Limping Man, however, is so arbitrary and dishonest it makes clear how little regard for the audience, or for the integrity of their own movie, the producers must have had. World War II vet Frank Prior (Lloyd Bridges) returns to London from America after six years to look up an old flame, Pauline French (Moira Lister), now a successful actress. As he and the other passengers deplane and walk across to the terminal, Frank pauses for a moment and asks the man beside him for a light. There's a gunshot and the man crumples to the ground, shot by a marksman with a high-powered rifle, an assassin with a limp. The dead man was named Kendall Brown. With Inspector Braddock (Alan Wheatley) and Detective Cameron (Leslie Phillips) on the case, it's clear that Prior is as mystified as everyone else. After Prior leaves the police to find Pauline, Wheatley and Cameron visit Brown's lodgings...and find a photo of a good-looking young woman. Yes, the photo is of Pauline French. It's not long before Frank Prior is up to his neck in murderous intrigue. The mix includes blackmail, smuggling, magic acts, gritty Thames-side docks, backstage theater doings, a pouting French singer and, Frank discovers, some indiscretions in Pauline's past. The plot, under Cy Endfield's direction, keeps moving briskly ahead. The photography is nifty, with lots of nighttime eeriness, shadowy theater cellars and fear-filled eyes highlighted in the gloom. But the movie reeks of class-conscious accents and acting. Whole generations of British actors, if they were to have a hope of succeeding as lead players, had to master that plummy, nasal, upper-class diction that was supposed to be the hallmark of an English gentleman or lady. When sound came to the movies, that social stratification based on how one spoke was enforced with a vengeance. Things began to change for lead players only when Michael Caine hit the big-time in Britain and kept his Cockney accent. So here's Leslie Phillips, who grew to be a fine farceur, slim, young and in a supporting role as Cameron. He was raised in poverty with a Cockney accent. His mother was determined that he'd have a chance at a better life so she saw that he had elocution lessons. Phillips wound up with one of the ripest upper-class accents you can imagine, and in a long career he has used it to great, leering effect. His Cameron is very keen on the female figure, a characteristic Phillips, now in his eighties and still acting, has in real life. Phillips is a character and great fun to watch. One of his best roles is as Lord Flamborough in 1994's Love on a Branch Line. It's one of those British television productions that you'll either be delighted by or puzzled with. Moira Lister's Pauline French (Lister was born and raised in South Africa) sounds like the carefully educated daughter of the English landed aristocracy, the kind of woman who schedules her love life with her husband as meticulously as she schedules her social engagements with her equals, and with considerably less frequency. Lister was a successful actress on the stage as well as in the movies. She sounds a little like Joan Greenwood. She gives such an overly bred, mannered performance it seems unlikely she'd ever be attracted to an American ex-GI like Lloyd Bridge's Frank Prior. However, one of the pleasures of the movie is that Frank flies into London on a Lockheed Constellation. We see several shots of this most graceful of airplanes flying and on the ground. The ending of The Limping Man is a complete cheat. While some of us might enjoy at least some of this movie's 76 minutes, and I'm one of them, its conclusion left me feeling that I'd just been made a fool of. Cy Endfield, who directed the movie, did so under the name of Charles De la Tour, a man he paid to front for him. Endfield was blackballed in Hollywood during the witch-hunts. He could no longer get directing jobs so he left for Britain with his family. The only way his early British movies could be released in America was by hiding his name. He stayed in Britain and went on to direct using his real name Zulu, Mysterious Island, Sands of the Kalahari and others.