Paul Douglas came as rather a surprise in this film. First of all, he's as alien among these Gaelic Islanders as Raymond Burr was among the Japanese of "Godzilla." Second of all, after a series of contretemps he must change into a woolly pullover and, although he has the face of a pudgy man, we see that he's not overweight, only a little bulky and lacking in neck. Douglas is Mr. Marshall, the owner of some expensive cargo that has been accidentally shipped to an island via the old and delapidated Scottish puffer called the Maggie.
The captain and crew of the Maggie need desperately to get the cargo to its destination so they can collect the payment they need to get the broken-down boat into a shape good enough for it to pass inspection and be relicensed. (Which it is not now.) Essentially the story is a battle of wits between Douglas and the crew of the Maggie. Douglas is a very wealthy American businessman, but not the blustering brutish junkman he was on Broadway in "Born Yesterday." Instead he's a polite, efficient materialist, keenly clever. More clever than the Maggie's crew, or so he thinks.
Douglas has a heck of a time tracking down the boat once it sails out of Glasgow with its cargo. He hires an airplane to find it and finally intercepts it at one of the many small fishing villages at which it stops for fuel or other reasons, such as the 100th birthday party of an old man who speaks only Gaelic.
Boy, does this ring bells. All peasants on the screen must be a little whimsical and fun loving, when they're not casually getting the job done. It doesn't matter whether they're Greek ("Zorba") or Irish ("The Luck of the Irish") or Okinawan ("The Teahouse of the August Moon"). And the earnest, uptight American or English businessman must learn from them that the law must be interpreted leniently and life is nothing to get particularly upset about.
The direction, by Alexander MacKendrick, is functional and the editing just about flawless. The acting is at a professional level. There are no major misjudgments on display. But it's not a zany laff riot either. The pace is generally slow, the slapstick sparse, and the humor is not mean spirited. Oh, the Maggie's crew may be on the right philosophical track okay, but Douglas isn't exactly a heavy. He's not so much angry as frustrated at losing every contest. And at the end, when he decides to jettison his precious cargo, it must come finally as a big relief to him. I'll bet his systolic blood pressure dropped thirty points.
There are certainly funnier Ealing comedies: "The Man in the White Suit," "The Ladykillers." But this quiet little film really shouldn't be missed, especially if you're concerned about ulcers or blood pressure.
The captain and crew of the Maggie need desperately to get the cargo to its destination so they can collect the payment they need to get the broken-down boat into a shape good enough for it to pass inspection and be relicensed. (Which it is not now.) Essentially the story is a battle of wits between Douglas and the crew of the Maggie. Douglas is a very wealthy American businessman, but not the blustering brutish junkman he was on Broadway in "Born Yesterday." Instead he's a polite, efficient materialist, keenly clever. More clever than the Maggie's crew, or so he thinks.
Douglas has a heck of a time tracking down the boat once it sails out of Glasgow with its cargo. He hires an airplane to find it and finally intercepts it at one of the many small fishing villages at which it stops for fuel or other reasons, such as the 100th birthday party of an old man who speaks only Gaelic.
Boy, does this ring bells. All peasants on the screen must be a little whimsical and fun loving, when they're not casually getting the job done. It doesn't matter whether they're Greek ("Zorba") or Irish ("The Luck of the Irish") or Okinawan ("The Teahouse of the August Moon"). And the earnest, uptight American or English businessman must learn from them that the law must be interpreted leniently and life is nothing to get particularly upset about.
The direction, by Alexander MacKendrick, is functional and the editing just about flawless. The acting is at a professional level. There are no major misjudgments on display. But it's not a zany laff riot either. The pace is generally slow, the slapstick sparse, and the humor is not mean spirited. Oh, the Maggie's crew may be on the right philosophical track okay, but Douglas isn't exactly a heavy. He's not so much angry as frustrated at losing every contest. And at the end, when he decides to jettison his precious cargo, it must come finally as a big relief to him. I'll bet his systolic blood pressure dropped thirty points.
There are certainly funnier Ealing comedies: "The Man in the White Suit," "The Ladykillers." But this quiet little film really shouldn't be missed, especially if you're concerned about ulcers or blood pressure.