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Strident whimsy. A charming rejection of materialism and the modern world (“Are these people poor?”, “No, they just don’t have much money”, “Isn’t that the same thing?”…) in favour of a belief in myth, romantic superstition and a more ancient, natural way of doing things.
As often with P&P a strange but utterly beguiling collage of satire, rural idyll, romance and above all, a belief in humanity (an ever more bizarre brew of similar elements is the earlier A Canterbury Tale). Yet both films win through with innate good sense. Life isn’t a straight-forward course and P&P tap into this meandering trajectory with aplomb.
British to its core – or perhaps its sensible, stout walking boots – and as close we ever came to a national cinema.

It took me time to get the rhythm of this classic Archers tale. It’s about a woman(elegantly performed by Wendy Hiller) who is set and driven to rise out of her social standing. She goes to the right schools, takes the right jobs and is finally about to marry a rich man(a Chemical Industrialist – the projected fantasy wedding scene is one of Powell’s funniest montages). Then on the eve of her wedding on a Scottish island called Killoran, she’s stranded at the scottish island port from which she is to set sail. And then she meets Torquil(Roger Livesey) who is the final and greatest obstacle to her set path in life. This is such an effortless, simple and poetic film that it can seem slight when you first see it. It needs to be seen again and again to be truly appreciated.

Powell has a legitimate claim to be the greatest of the classic British directors. He certainly stands up alongside Hitchcock and Lean, and it’s because of great films like this. In many ways it’s one of his most accessible creations due to the universality and simplicity of the story, of unexpected love in an unexpected place.

It oozes charm from start to finish, thanks to the stunning location and beautiful performances. Wendy Hiller is a woman on a mission, and she has organised her schedule to the second to accomplish it, leaving no room for serendipity in the process. She is bent on marrying into Scottish landed gentry, and duly sets off by train from London to the wild Hebrides in the north. Powell barely shows us her intended and he remains as much an aside or a myth and a symbol of what the capitalist side of the war years represented. She is within an ace of achieving her aim, when mother nature intervenes and prevents her from completing the final leg.

It’s a film of contrasts, as the antidote to what she thinks she wants, buying into the establishment to secure her future, is an earthy naval officer played by Roger Livesy. He’s been dispossesed by the system she aspires to, but continues to risk his life in it’s war. An amazingly modern woman, played by Pamela Brown, is the contrasting female character to Hiller’s ‘proper lady’ type. Brown comes into the picture as a force of nature, a female the equal or easily the better of most of the men about, and causes the becalmed Hiller to reflect upon her mores and preconceptions, indeed of the very roles of men and women.

The two leads are thrown together by circumstance and the attraction is undeniable. Hiller is faced with real people, intruding into what was to be her fairy tale. She realises she won’t be able to hold out and becomes more desperate to make the crossing, running away from reality. From this confection Powell spins his magic. It’s hard to imagine a more charming fable, or a more winning realisation. It’s a valentine to the Scottish locations that Powell loved and the fact that Livesy actually never set foot in Scotland is a seamless conceit.

In perfect black and white, it captured and distilled so much more than it’s modest scenario promised. It’s a sweet dream of a movie.