The Shop at Sly Corner (1947)

The Shop at Sly Corner (1949) is a lightweight Limey mystery film noir with a pleasant historical creep factor and an antiques business setting, featuring a psychopathic Pinkie-like young shop boy on a noir rise to power over the mild mannered walrus faced character actor stylings of Oscar Homoloka

The Shop at Sly Corner is based on a play by Edward Percy, a Conservative MP, which debuted in London in May 1945 and received positive reviews, with Variety praising it as "good theatre." 

The play enjoyed a successful two-year run in London, generating a significant profit for its investors after an initial production cost of just $12,000. 

However, its Broadway adaptation, starring Boris Karloff in 1949, was less successful, closing after only seven performances. The play was also adapted for a BBC TV production in 1946.


Yes so it's an odd kind of British mid period noir, which feels like an historical noir but is not one, and this maybe the Homolkian facials and shuffling, as well as the mid-Edwardian dress, and the antique setting, and of course the entirety of the street sound stage, which seems oddly interrupted by cars, quite modern cars at that.

The interiors are all old world however, despite the reliance on broadcasting for the story and the super visuals of the radio sets which populate. The vehicles on the sound stage break free into an incredible car chase, it must have been one of the more superior car chase of British cinema in 1949.

Kenneth Griffith in Limey noir The Shop at Sly Corner (1947)

It's a post Pinkie world however, as Kenneth Griffith's amazing acting proves. His is the star performance of The Shop At Sly Corner, his is the sly cornered criminal mind that seeks to rise above his boyish station, never crippled by his ambition but powered in a psychopathic noirlike fashion towards it. It's a huge performance, and massive fun.

The film rights were acquired by British Lion in May 1945, and it became one of the first films produced by Alexander Korda under his new deal with the studio. The film was directed by George King and featured Oscar Homolka, who was brought over from the USA to star in the lead role. Filming began on August 6, 1946, at Isleworth Studios, with art direction by Bernard Robinson. 

Notably, the film marked the debut of Diana Dors, whose performance as the girlfriend of a blackmailer was well received, showcasing her star potential. Muriel Pavlow and Derek Farr, who portrayed lovers in the film, were married shortly after production.

Oscar Homolka in The Shop at Sly Corner (1947)


Critically, the film received mixed reviews. Variety noted that while the second half was cinematic and engaging, the first part was slow and overly explanatory. However, TV Guide appreciated the film as an "interesting melodrama" enriched by strong performances, particularly by Homolka and the supporting British cast.

It looks yet at any moment as if it is about to burst open as an eerie thriller set in Dickensian London, but it turns out to be about an eccentric antique dealer, Desius Heiss (Oskar Homolka), whose life revolves around his daughter's success as a concert violinist. 

That standout performance comes from Kenneth Griffith, who excels in his typical role as an unlikeable character. He plays Archie Fellows, a rude assistant to Heiss, who initially seems oblivious to his employer's shady past. However, Archie uncovers Heiss's involvement in a stolen goods racket after eavesdropping on a conversation between Heiss and a cat burglar.

The old boy at the antiques played by Homolka is a powerfully drive force of fatherhood in wartime, and a noir survivor, although the end has to be what the end has to be. If you are scared of spoilers then stop. 


We would not on a normal day bother to warn you again about spoilers, but the end of The Shop At Sly Corner (1947) may not be seen coming by you, and may yet as such be a joy and tension of interest in the film noir dramatic form, to behold. We will discuss the end of this film at the bottom of the page, below the word SPOILER.

Once in on the secret, Archie exploits Heiss, living lavishly and taking control of the antique shop, but his real desire is Heiss's daughter, Margaret (Muriel Pavlow). Archie's character is repulsive yet evokes strong emotions, while Heiss remains inscrutable and difficult to sympathize with, despite occasional acts of compassion. For instance, he overpays an elderly woman pawning her music box, contrasting sharply with his otherwise cold demeanor.

Muriel Pavlow delivers a subtle performance as Margaret, and she and leading man Derek Farr reportedly fell in love during filming. Meanwhile, the gorgeous Diana Dors, who plays Archie's new girlfriend, has a minor role that leaves one wishing she had been more prominently featured.

The Shop at Sly Corner is a distinctive British crime film that breaks away from typical genre clichés, delivering an unpredictable and mature narrative. The story revolves around Oscar Homolka's character, a French expatriate who runs an antiques store in London while secretly working as a fence for stolen jewelry. 

The plot thickens and quickens and yet there is still no Charles Dickens, when his assistant, Archie , discovers his secret and begins blackmailing him, leading to a tense spiral of events. Tense spiral, that might do it, but it would be better somehow if the weirdness of the antique shop setting could be captured.

Probably the best part of the movie is when Kenneth Griffith displays his true character as the vile shoplad, as he keeps waiting and waiting for the sweet old lady of British cinema Katie Johnson  as he lazily and grandiloquently takes his time to open the shop.

She remains unpahsed and is evilly cheated by him to boot, and retains the sweetness for which she was known, best served of course in the immortal The Ladykillers (1955), we really should get that one down on the blog here.

Katie Johnson in The Shop at Sly Corner (1947)

There are other ladies of the Limey silver screen, that old limey limelight green screen thing that they had, it was silver and not lime, and everyone smoked cigarettes, and there are a ton of cigarettes in The Shop at Sly Corner (1947).

In fact in The Shop at Sly Corner (1947) there is the strongest film noir cliche of all, which is the man in the long coat and hat, smoking a cigarette on an alley corner, there is a lot of this mis en noir going on in The Shop at Sly Corner (1947).

Other smoking moments include Homolka's cigar which works the room, constantly. And those other ladies that were to be mentioned were of course Diana Dors, in a first film role, which surely counts for something magical, most especially in the Blighty Mind, for Blighty lovers her Dors, his and her Diana Dors.

Irene Handl in The Shop at Sly Corner (1947)

And there is Irene Handl, who did a show later called Metal Mickey that was quite popular in the UK. Nobody ever finds out what Iren Handl is doing walking the muddy commons at night, but she tursn out to be a witness to the murder anyway, and quite a silly one at that.





Homolka offers a warm and sympathetic portrayal of the lead, despite his character's shady dealings, while Griffith steals the show as the menacing and loathsome Archie, drawing comparisons to Richard Attenborough's sinister role in Brighton Rock. The film’s pacing is deliberate, adding to its engrossing nature, with moments of tension punctuated by the haunting Mendelssohn Violin Concerto. 

Director George King maintains a well-paced narrative, culminating in a suspenseful and atmospheric thriller that stands out for its depth and character-driven drama. Though rarely seen today, The Shop at Sly Corner is a hidden gem that offers a fresh take on crime noir and is highly recommended for its engaging plot and strong performances.

It was not just British censors that film-makers had to contend with. Before their films could be shown in America they had to conform with the Production Code of the Motion Picture Association of America. When Ealing wanted to make a film of the children's story Mistress Masham's Repose, the Production Code Administration - informally known as the Hays Office - objected to the word 'Mistress' in the title, and the project was cancelled. The script of Scott of the Antarctic was at first rejected on the grounds that Oates's sacrificing his life for his comrades was suicide, which was against the teachings of the Catholic Church. The Hays Office was only finally persuaded to relent by the argument - sanctioned by an official of the cardinal at Westminster - that Oates could have been saved from the frozen wilderness by the hand of God. It's easy to mock the censors for what seem like patently absurd rulings, but their conservatism was really no more startling than that of society at large.

When there was a post-war vogue for crime films, the critic C. A. Lejeune was just one voice among many when she commented: 'The films are committing a monstrous blunder in entertaining so many morbid themes, and dwelling so insistently on brutal and savage detail. The sensible film-goer does not want these things. The sensible film-goer is sick to the soul of spivs and murderers, cads and racketeers.'

FROM: The Finest Years_ British Cinema of the 1940s -- Charles Drazin -- 2007 

Robert Warshow’s essay on the American gangster has significantly influenced the study of crime films, though it also limited the scope by focusing on a universalized concept of the gangster. Warshow sees the American gangster as a mythical figure, separate from real crime, embodying both societal fears and desires. 

In contrast, the British gangster is portrayed as more culturally diverse, drawing from various narrative traditions, including the tragic anti-hero archetype found in Hollywood, but also incorporating semi-comic elements rooted in 19th-century British literature and social satire.



Diana Dors in The Shop at Sly Corner (1947)

The Shop at Sly Corner (1947) does contain within the racing chasing fun of a rather good car chase, featured across the country, with some straightforwardly achieved cracking turns and twists and a splash through a small and old English forded river, also.



Car chase across Englandshire in The Shop at Sly Corner (1947)

British gangster characters, like Harry Flowers or Harold Shand, differ from Warshow’s existential archetypes, embodying a mix of fear, awe, derision, and pity. These characters are often more absurd and comic than tragic, with films like The Long Good Friday highlighting this through Shand's delusion of grandeur compared to the audience’s awareness of his underdog status.

The British gangster film, from its post-war origins to more violent examples like The Long Good Friday, reflects the social environment more closely than its Hollywood counterpart. These films lack the mythic qualities, large budgets, and star power typical of American gangster movies, but they also avoid the sentimentality and glamorization of violence found in Hollywood. Instead, death in British gangster films is depicted as brutal and swift, with little romanticization of the criminal lifestyle.

SPOILERS

Kenneth Griffith as resentful and lustful, thievery shoplad does of course get offed and what is so very enjoyable about The Shop At Sly Corner (1949) is waiting for that to happen. 


The suicidal note of the finish is just as striking however. Now there is the Chekov's gun motif of the poisoned dart, which incidentally carries late-in-the-day post colonial racist overtones of savagery, implying of course the black death and mystery of the jungle as it does in the fatal poisoned dart, left in the civic wilds of a London antique shop, they were always going to kill someone and we assumed it might be that shoplad.

But it is not, and the shoplad does not have even so dignified a death. That dignity falls upon Homolka's character and he dies well, leaving an intriguing heather motif behind him, an unusual one at that.

The Shop at Sly Corner (1947)

Directed by George King | Screenplay by Reginald Long / Katherine Strueby | Based on The Shop at Sly Corner by Edward Percy | Produced by George King

Production company: Pennant Pictures |Distributed by British Lion Films (UK) | Release date: 10 March 1947 |Running time 91 minutes

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