Went the Day Well? Page #2

Synopsis: The residents of a British village during WWII welcome a platoon of soldiers who are to be billeted with them. The trusting residents then discover that the soldiers are Germans who proceed to hold the village captive.
Genre: Thriller, War
Director(s): Alberto Cavalcanti
Production: Rialto Pictures
 
IMDB:
7.6
Rotten Tomatoes:
100%
APPROVED
Year:
1942
92 min
Website
297 Views


- About here, Mr Maxwell.

- Oh, yes.

I'm cram full of evacuees,

but there's always that sofa,

and if your O.C. isn't outsize,

I shall be only too glad to...

Excuse me.

Hello? Oh, good morning, Nora, dear.

Yes, they're here now.

Garbett wanted to consult me

about the billeting.

I thought you could take...

Who is?

Oh, is he?

Oh, I'm sure that'll be very nice for him.

Yes, I'll give the message.

Goodbye.

Your O.C.'s staying with the Ashtons,

so you'd better have my sofa.

It's a great deal more comfortable than

the vicarage spare bed, I can assure you.

- Oh, thanks.

- You must both dine with me tonight.

- The Ashtons are coming...

- I wish we could,

but we've a lot to do,

I'm afraid we shall be late tonight.

Besides, we've only our battledress.

Oh, as if that matters.

As for dinner, I'll make it whenever

you like, so that's settled.

- You've a car outside?

- Yes.

Very well then, I'll come with you

and knock some sense into old Mrs Rogers.

Oh, it's an Army car.

I'm afraid civilians are not allowed to...

I don't mind.

Come in.

My, uh...

My housekeeper's out, I sent her to Upton,

so you can speak quite freely.

Good, my orders are to give you

all the necessary information.

- How much do you know already?

- Practically nothing. Do sit down, will you?

Berlin has a maddening habit

of making us work in the dark.

Airborne and seaborne invasion in force

is to be launched on Monday night.

- Monday night?

- No, thanks.

- The day after tomorrow?

- Yes.

Our task is to jam radio-location.

With the apparatus we've got, we can put

the British locators out of action.

My unit deals with the central area.

Radius, 300 miles.

But this apparatus

must be extraordinarily complicated,

if it needs all those men to assemble it.

Not to assemble, but to protect it.

If we are found out, we shall be attacked,

and my orders are to hold this village,

and to continue to hold it

for 48 hours after invasion starts.

Uh-huh. Oh,

so that's why you want to contact my O.C?

Exactly. It's always useful to know

one's enemy's plans in advance.

Hello?

- Hello?

- Telegram for you.

- Hold on a second, Violet, while I get a pencil.

- Okay.

I had that pencil of mine a minute ago,

everything seems to be losing itself

this morning.

Daisy, see if you can find those keys

for me, will you? There's a good girl.

What keys was it you was wanting, sir?

- The hall. The village hall.

- Well, they're usually kept...

- Yes, she's already looked there.

- Oh.

That couldn't be them, could it,

hanging up by those ladies'?

Why, so it is.

Found them? That's right.

Sergeant, I'd better come with you,

the lock's a bit tricky.

Daisy, find an envelope for that

and pop up with it to the manor house.

But we've run out of envelopes.

You told me to remind you.

Oh, never mind, they tell us to save paper.

But, wait a minute,

we can't both of us be out at once,

I'll take it, it's only a step further.

- Sorry to have kept you waiting.

- I hope you won't be long.

- No, why?

- You've got the telephone.

Oh, so I have.

What are those colours for?

- Royal Engineers.

- You ought not to tell.

Oh, the cards, I mustn't take them away.

You boys'll be glad of a game.

Oh! The great, big...

You great, bullying brute, you.

Knocking a child about,

you're a disgrace to your uniform.

Why, you're no better than a German,

that's what you are.

Did you see what this man did?

You report him to your officers at once.

- He was tampering with equipment.

- Well, what if he was?

There's no call for a

great, hulking brute...

All right, all right, you'll be on charge

for this. Orders tomorrow morning.

And so I should think.

And let it be a lesson to you, young man,

not to go nosy-parkering.

I shall tell Mrs Fraser about you.

Disgraceful!

Well, here we are, sir.

Yes, you can see the whole place from here,

except the manor house,

that's just beyond those trees.

Nice and compact,

easy to defend from up here.

- Have you worked out a plan of defence?

- Oh, yes, sir.

To begin with, I've established

an observation post over there.

- Just behind that hedge, there.

- Good.

- Then I've light machine-gun posts.

- How many'? Whereabouts?

One along the Upton Road,

at the bend there.

And the second one

at the top of the school lane.

- The one that runs south from the green.

- Oh, yes.

And the third down the road

past the village hall.

Just near the manor house gates.

If you were the enemy, which direction

would you deliver your main attack from?

The woods around the manor house, sir.

- They give much the best cover.

- Yes.

Well, I think you've told

me all I want to know.

You can always give Drew a ring,

if there's anything else.

- That's right.

- Thanks.

I appreciate your cooperation, Mr Drew.

It's going to make my

job a good deal easier.

If there's nothing more

for the moment, sir,

I think I ought to be getting along

with my deliveries.

Yes, and if any of your customers are

angry, please put the blame on me.

- Good day, sir.

- Good day.

I'll see you tomorrow at the exercise.

- Splendid fellow.

- Oh, yes, keen as mustard.

What is this exercise, anything special?

No, action in the event

of a parachute landing.

You'd better report sick,

in case I need you.

All right, I'll have a sprained wrist

or something.

If you've any general suggestions to make,

I'd like to hear them.

Well, most of your men could pass

for 100% British

- like the sergeant, couldn't they?

- All, except one. A radio technician.

Well, I suggest that some of them

should pay a visit to the local pub,

The Ring of Bells, tonight.

Look very odd if they didn't.

Right! Anything else?

Well, they should make themselves

useful in their billets.

So?

You know, minding the baby and keeping

an eye on the kettle, and so on.

Ah, I see.

What part of the world do you come from?

Manchester.

Eee, then we're neighbours.

I come from Stockport.

Good old Piccadilly of a Saturday night.

I said I come from Manchester, not London.

Well, I know you did,

but I mean Piccadilly in Manchester, silly.

Oh, of course, I was forgetting.

I left Manchester when I was a child.

Oh, I see.

Well, that's done anyhow.

You carry those in, will you?

I'll take these. Come on.

There we are. Put those on the dresser.

Now come and sit down

and make yourself comfy.

Seven days' leave isn't much, is it?

No, it's all we chaps get.

I know.

But have I been waiting for it.

Dear Tom. Dear, dear...

It's like old times to hear

Bill Purvis's shotgun again.

He gave me a rabbit yesterday.

Black market?

Wedding present.

That must be Joe Garbett

coming to have a look.

That's torn it.

If we budge, he'll hear us and if we don't,

he's sure to come and catch us.

Not if I knows anything.

Now you stay where you are.

And 'ang on to Betty.

When I whistle for 'er

ten times, let her go.

- Then you nip off home, see.

- Okay. What about tomorrow night?

Eleven o'clock. Same place.

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Graham Greene

Henry Graham Greene (2 October 1904 – 3 April 1991), better known by his pen name Graham Greene, was an English novelist regarded by many as one of the greatest writers of the 20th century. Combining literary acclaim with widespread popularity, Greene acquired a reputation early in his lifetime as a major writer, both of serious Catholic novels, and of thrillers (or "entertainments" as he termed them). He was shortlisted, in 1966 and 1967, for the Nobel Prize for Literature. Through 67 years of writings, which included over 25 novels, he explored the ambivalent moral and political issues of the modern world, often through a Catholic perspective. Although Greene objected strongly to being described as a Roman Catholic novelist, rather than as a novelist who happened to be Catholic, Catholic religious themes are at the root of much of his writing, especially the four major Catholic novels: Brighton Rock, The Power and the Glory, The Heart of the Matter, and The End of the Affair; which are regarded as "the gold standard" of the Catholic novel. Several works, such as The Confidential Agent, The Quiet American, Our Man in Havana, The Human Factor, and his screenplay for The Third Man, also show Greene's avid interest in the workings and intrigues of international politics and espionage. Greene was born in Berkhamsted in Hertfordshire into a large, influential family that included the owners of the Greene King Brewery. He boarded at Berkhamsted School in Hertfordshire, where his father taught and became headmaster. Unhappy at the school, he attempted suicide several times. He went up to Balliol College, Oxford, to study history, where, while an undergraduate, he published his first work in 1925—a poorly received volume of poetry, Babbling April. After graduating, Greene worked first as a private tutor and then as a journalist – first on the Nottingham Journal and then as a sub-editor on The Times. He converted to Catholicism in 1926 after meeting his future wife, Vivien Dayrell-Browning. Later in life he took to calling himself a "Catholic agnostic". He published his first novel, The Man Within, in 1929; its favourable reception enabled him to work full-time as a novelist. He supplemented his novelist's income with freelance journalism, and book and film reviews. His 1937 film review of Wee Willie Winkie (for the British journal Night and Day), commented on the sexuality of the nine-year-old star, Shirley Temple. This provoked Twentieth Century Fox to sue, prompting Greene to live in Mexico until after the trial was over. While in Mexico, Greene developed the ideas for The Power and the Glory. Greene originally divided his fiction into two genres (which he described as "entertainments" and "novels"): thrillers—often with notable philosophic edges—such as The Ministry of Fear; and literary works—on which he thought his literary reputation would rest—such as The Power and the Glory. Greene had a history of depression, which had a profound effect on his writing and personal life. In a letter to his wife, Vivien, he told her that he had "a character profoundly antagonistic to ordinary domestic life," and that "unfortunately, the disease is also one's material." William Golding described Greene as "the ultimate chronicler of twentieth-century man's consciousness and anxiety." He died in 1991, at age 86, of leukaemia, and was buried in Corseaux cemetery. more…

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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