The Limping Man (1953)

The Limping Man (1953) is a murder and blackmail American in England post-war mystery thriller film noir from Cy Endfield and starring Lloyd Bridges, and one with a classic unwelcome and rather dire trope ending which renders most of it somewhat pointless.

Terror Street, which is also 1953, and starring Dan Duryea is quite a similar production in many respects. There is first the trope of the American in England, a man who spreads glamour wherever he goes.

Both films of course commence in mid air, as the American hero lands in London, ready for action, love and mystery. Both films unravel in a leading mystery across the city, joined by the police, but focused on uncertain crimes and small culture clashes.

For Cy Endfield, a director blacklisted in Hollywood, the 1950s in Britain marked a challenging period of adjustment and professional struggle. After arriving in the UK at age 37, Endfield found it difficult to secure consistent work. His first real opportunity came from fellow American exile, Hannah Weinstein, a former journalist and political campaigner.

Having moved to Paris in 1950 due to the anti-communist climate in the U.S., Weinstein transitioned into television production. She tapped into the talent pool of blacklisted American filmmakers, offering Endfield a chance to direct three pilot films for American television.

Lloyd Bridges in The Limping Man (1953)

The pilots, based on stories by crime writer John Dickson Carr, featured Boris Karloff as the suave detective Colonel March, a character from the fictional Department of Queer Complaints in Scotland Yard. The segments, shot at Nettlefold Studios, were compiled into the film Colonel March Investigates (1953) for British distribution, courtesy of Eros, a distribution company owned by the Hyams brothers. The first episode, Hot Money, a bank heist mystery, marked the debut of actress Joan Sims, and also saw Endfield making a brief cameo.

Endfield’s work on the Colonel March pilots was pivotal, but it was far from straightforward. Behind the scenes, blacklisted writers such as Abraham Polonsky, Walter Bernstein, and Harold Buchman contributed scripts under pseudonyms or fronts. Endfield recalled Buchman’s involvement, though others, including Leo Davis, were credited.

Weinstein, a central figure in the production, temporarily returned to the U.S. to negotiate syndication rights, leaving Endfield to handle additional responsibilities like unpaid writing and producing.

Although Endfield’s relationship with Weinstein was occasionally strained, she played a crucial role in his career resurgence. Weinstein’s company, Sapphire Films, became a hub for blacklisted American writers and filmmakers. Her most famous production, The Adventures of Robin Hood, broadcast from 1955 to 1958, covertly addressed the blacklist's injustices.

The series' themes of outlaws resisting corrupt authority allowed for subtle critiques of the political persecution faced by many in the industry. Endfield, however, did not participate in this series, nor did he engage further with Weinstein’s work after his initial involvement with Colonel March.

Endfield's time in the UK proved both challenging and transformative, as it eventually led to his resurgence as a filmmaker, albeit in a less-than-ideal professional climate.

When Lloyd Bridges finally meets his GF after six years the squealing violins with flute descants do some of the worst hack work in all of Limey Screen of 1953, calling on the harps too to whip up a snoggy big strong trans Atlantic affair . . . it's the first time she's seen him out of uniform!

Oh what a lovely post-war! The production is basic and makes something of a small London tour, although not as grand a tour as in Terror Street (1953), also known as 36 Hours (1953). Weirdness wakes our hero with a disappearing magazine but what on earth was anybody thinking about to present what follows here as some kind of dream?

Fading to a post-coital black the harps glide to a frenzy and it turns out that his GF is into aeroplane racing, motor boats and of course guns. 'Hey beautiful, snap into it!' is a line used but might sum up the larger part of this fantasy.

And yesh she has a secret, does that girlfriend. As do the film makers who may be about to disappoint you royally.

With the lower examples of Limey film noir there is no pedigree at all, and in fact British movies like this do not get called noir, as it may be moot to begin with that the UK had some kind of noir scene and style, and even if it did, the lower examples are muddled and often left forgotten as thrillers, with little in the way of our best loved noir tropes involved at all.

Of major note regarding Brit talent in The Limping Man (1953) is Leslie Thomas who plays a young police detective. Oddly, Leslie Thomas became known for one type of action, and brought one trope only to the cinema, and it was the trope of the easy and sleazy British toff who loves the totty, always looking ladies up and down and wondering "I say!" either quietly to himself, or more volubly to his male colleagues.

And that is what happens here, in a film that does not require the trope to function, nor need of for any kind of light relief. It was obviously just what this man therefore did.

Besides this Brits will be delighted to see Lionel Blair in The Limping Man (1953)

performing as quite the opposite in fact, as a pair of lovely, fit and dancing legs, in a star routine that he does well, and with backstage vigour. Lionel Blair is clearly a fixture of the West End and as such at home in this fantasy noir; a film which shipped to the screens with the following vital strapline:

What strange secret walked side by side with ... The Limping Man.

In the 1950s, British B-pictures often featured American stars to boost their appeal, especially for the American market. One such example is The Limping Man, a low-budget British thriller starring Lloyd Bridges. Bridges plays Franklin Pryor, a former U.S. soldier who returns to Britain to reunite with his wartime girlfriend, Pauline French, played by Moira Lister.

The film opens with a striking scene where a passenger is assassinated by a sniper as Pryor disembarks from a plane at Heathrow Airport. This thrilling start sets the stage for a murder mystery that quickly entangles Pryor.

As the plot unfolds, Pryor discovers that Pauline may know more about the murder than she initially lets on. Suspicion mounts, and even the police begin to suspect Pryor’s involvement in the killing. The film weaves elements of intrigue, as it is revealed that Pauline is caught in a web of conspiracy and blackmail, linked to the murder victim. Despite these promising elements, the film’s potential is ultimately wasted.

The Limping Man is praised by finer critics and students of the screen alike for its strong opening sequence, which effectively grabs the audience's attention. However, after the initial 20 minutes, the film’s pace significantly slows, losing much of its early momentum.

The story becomes muddled, with little energy or drive to sustain the intrigue. Although Bridges is a credible and enjoyable actor, his role is disappointingly passive, as he remains more of an observer than an active participant in the unfolding events. Moira Lister, as Pauline, fails to establish convincing chemistry with Bridges, which further detracts from the film’s emotional impact.

The supporting cast offers some highlights, with Leslie Phillips providing charm in a typical womanizer role and a young Jean Marsh making an appearance in a small cameo. However, these performances are not enough to salvage the film’s uneven narrative. The plot, while initially engaging, does not fit neatly together, lacking the taut, satisfying structure expected of a classic British mystery.

The film’s biggest disappointment comes with its twist ending. In a move that leaves most viewers frustrated, it is revealed that the entire story was a dream. Pryor wakes up on the plane, discovering that the murder, conspiracy, and intrigue were all imagined. This “it was all a dream” conclusion is widely considered one of the weakest and most thoughtless twists in cinema, undermining the film's early promise and leaving audiences groaning in disappointment. Despite its flaws, The Limping Man is still an interesting example of mid-century British cinema, particularly for fans of the genre.

Moira Lister's posh dramatic accent is quite an excitement in its own right, and although there are individual moments and sights and sounds of interest, we may only be here out of curiosity to see how Cy Endfield was faring at the starting gate of what would become his second career. Would he have otherwise chosen this weirdismal script any other wise?

The Limping Man (1953)