Temptation Harbour (1947)

Temptation Harbour (1947) is a sympathetic British morally complex period piece post-war Limey noir suitcase full of money gangster versus civilian poverty versus temptation melodrama romance film noir, with Robert Newton and Simon Simon struggling on the south coast of England.

The title of Temptation Harbour (1947) is doing a lot of heavy lifting here, lifting of wet suitcases full of money from the harbour, the harbour wherein the temptation lies, floating, and so nobody gave much thought to letting the old tale roll with such an oddly unflattering production designation for this now triple-remaker Simenon bobbing by the shore watery crab hunting classic of noir.

Is decency real? is the question of the day and the coal burning in this hard working and effective tale of temptation, and morality, and doing the right thing, which of course has been presented before, and is still presented yet, and as has been said, miraculously presented three times in the case of the suitcase belonging to the man from London.

Whence the triple-remaker? Quite a feat and effective every time, and should drive you to see the Bela Tarr ultra-noir version of the self-same, The Man From London (2007).

You will know that you are watching post-war Limey noir for the triumphant music. It is one of the common features of British noir circa 1946 to 1950, that no production could bear to face the public with sinister or anxious music, and that music even for the darkest of tales, had to at that point in time, represent triumph, and but not yet even that, and victory too, and this trend is oddly noticeable in British film noir, many which include this one.

Robert Newton in Temptation Harbour (1947)

Lance Comfort’s Temptation Harbour (1947), an adaptation of Georges Simenon’s novel L’Homme de Londres, remains one of British cinema’s underappreciated gems. This film noir, produced at Welwyn Studios with art direction by Cedric Dawe, transposes Simenon’s narrative from the French Channel crossing to the dreary docks of Newhaven, England.

The result is a morally complex and richly atmospheric tale of temptation, guilt, and fatalism, cementing its status as an amazing and overlooked example of British noir.

The adaptation diverged significantly from Simenon’s original novella, not only in setting but in its thematic nuances. While retaining the essence of Simenon’s fatalistic worldview, Comfort’s version reframes the narrative within a postwar British context, emphasizing austerity, social stratification, and the moral struggles of ordinary individuals.

Shot on location in Newhaven, the film captures the grim authenticity of a small coastal town with evocative cinematography by Otto Heller. The visual style, defined by deep shadows, fog-drenched docks, and claustrophobic interiors, is complemented by Mischa Spoliansky’s score, which oscillates between melancholic introspection and over-emphatic dramatization.

Temptation Harbour (1947)

Robert Newton stars as Bert Mallinson, a railway signalman confined to a life of routine and modest means. Widowed and raising his adolescent daughter Betty (Margaret Barton), Bert leads a life defined by monotony and duty. His world changes irrevocably when he witnesses a man pushed into the harbor during a violent altercation.

Attempting to rescue the victim, he instead recovers a suitcase containing £5,000—a life-altering sum in postwar Britain. Initially resolved to report the find, Bert succumbs to the allure of easy money, setting in motion a chain of events that will lead to his moral and literal downfall.

Bert’s journey epitomizes the classic noir archetype of the “everyman” ensnared by forces beyond his control—both external and internal. His descent into moral ambiguity is not driven by overt greed but by a yearning for a better life for himself and his daughter.

This perfect old time classic cinema-style nuanced portrayal of temptation is one of the film’s greatest strengths, as it invites the audience to empathize with Bert’s plight while recognizing the tragic inevitability of his choices.

The supporting cast enriches this moral tapestry. Simone Simon, as Camelia, a carnival performer billed as a “radio-active mermaid,” embodies a blend of vulnerability and opportunism. Her relationship with Bert is both a source of solace and a complication, as her own aspirations intertwine with his moral struggles.

William Hartnell delivers a standout performance as Jim Brown, the murderer seeking to reclaim the stolen money. Unlike the stereotypical noir villain, Brown is portrayed with a degree of humanity, driven by desperation and familial responsibility. Hartnell through no good fault of his own became a very common British baddie, and made so many of them come alive, the man who played the first Doctor Who was in fact one of the chiefs of Limey noir entirely.

Margaret Barton and Simone Simon in Temptation Harbour (1947)

Margaret Barton’s portrayal of Betty, meanwhile, provides a poignant counterpoint to Bert’s moral decline. Her character’s small transgressions—such as stealing kidneys from a butcher—mirror her father’s larger ethical compromises, underscoring the pervasive influence of economic hardship.

To tempt you in to this harbour of wonder, the following tempting tag line was employed that day:

Conscience does make cowards of us all.

Simon Simon in Temptation Harbour (1947)

The film’s visual impactful style, being of the noir stamp, is steeped in noir aesthetics. Otto Heller’s cinematography employs chiaroscuro lighting and dynamic framing to heighten the tension and underscore the characters’ psychological turmoil. Notable sequences include the climactic confrontation in a ramshackle waterfront shack, where a single lighter illuminates the characters’ faces, creating a palpable sense of menace.

The use of voiceover, is so minimal it is weirdly intrusive, effectively conveying Bert’s internal conflict, allowing the audience to witness his psychological unraveling, but seeming to be a half a voiceover at times, as it is unclear if he is speaking to his daughter or himself, quite a unique thing.

Comfort’s direction skilfully balances action and introspection, weaving together multiple narrative threads without sacrificing coherence. The interplay between the intimate drama of Bert’s family life and the broader tensions of crime and pursuit lends the film a layered complexity.

This duality is further reflected in the setting, where the stark industrial landscapes of the docks contrast with the garish spectacle of the carnival—a microcosm of postwar Britain’s contradictions.

Why Temptation Harbour Is A Film Noir Name

Faced with a naming dilemma, the producing partners and project minds behind Temptation Harbour had a muddle of options to manage the name situation in making public sense of the remake of the story of Newhaven-Dieppe, also known as The Man from London, that is L'homme de Londres, properly, and also known as the title Affairs of Destiny, which is a rather vague and portentous title which doesn't quite capture the domestic and tight-knit local and more minute events significant to this story.

Not quite suited to Affairs of Destiny, the producers having set the film in Newhaven then had the switch option on the title, which could then not be The Man from London, because the initial inciting incident of incidents that sets the film off, is a package being smuggled ashore to in this England, hence Newhaven, hence the man from London, and so must be Belguiquid, meaning that to arrive in Newhaven the man could or should be called The Man from Brussels, or Dieppe, or any variety of others, but not London.

So the producers turned to the noir naming scheme to go on with the show, using the noir naming paradigms of the United States noir factory to create the pulpiformed title of the movie. Hence the location naming factor, which is widespread in noir, and takes the location of the action and names the film accordingly.

Hence the names of many film noir contain words such as street, or alley, or city, or take the name of a city, or say where they are played out; hence the producers wisely fell upon the locale of harbour, doubly lovely because the protagonist is a railway man, working at the exact nexus of sea and rail, and if there was a name for that, this might have been used instead of harbour.

Complete this process then, as the producers of Temptation Harbour in fact did, in their day, it is then politic in the world of noir-naming to place the action at this scene, as in for example Terror Street, a real film, and perhaps Revenge Alley, not a real film.

Film noir is a wicked cinema — Margaret Barton and William Hartnell in Temptation Harbour (1947)

Temptation Harbour occupies a unique position within the canon of British film noir. Unlike its American counterparts, which often glamorize crime and corruption, British noir tends to emphasize the ordinariness of its protagonists and the banality of their struggles.

Bert Mallinson is not a hard-boiled detective or a cynical antihero but a fundamentally decent man grappling with circumstances that expose his moral frailties. This focus on vulnerability and humanity aligns the film with European existentialist cinema, drawing comparisons to the works of Jean Renoir and Vittorio De Sica.

The film’s critical reception has been mixed. While some, like The Monthly Film Bulletin, praised its strong performances and technical craftsmanship, others criticized its leisurely pacing and occasional lapses in credibility.

David Quinlan described it as “average,” noting its “unpleasant characters” but acknowledging its gripping drama. In retrospect, however, Temptation Harbour has gained recognition as a significant contribution to British cinema, rivaling contemporaries like Brighton Rock in its exploration of moral ambiguity and social critique. David Quinlan was kinda wrong about this film.

It is not average, no noireaux of any kind of salt and standing would proclaim that, no soul of the cineaste would decline to declare that this is, far above average, even pulling on the more sentimental noir elements, rarities in themselves, and captured so marvellously in the crummy sets, so British and crummy, with its bustling bar and crummy kitchen, and fantastic open hotel lobby set, even with a shot reminiscent of that later version of the pulp, Pulp Fiction itself.

Beneath its noir exterior, Temptation Harbour serves as a subtle commentary on the socio-economic realities of postwar Britain. The film captures a nation grappling with austerity, where the promise of a better life often seems tantalizingly out of reach.

Bert’s moral compromises reflect the broader struggles of a society navigating the transition from wartime sacrifice to peacetime recovery. The film’s attention to detail—such as Betty preparing breakfast in a scene reminiscent of De Sica’s Umberto D.—grounds its characters in a tangible reality, enhancing its emotional resonance.

The subtext of social aspiration and disillusionment is further reinforced by Rodney Ackland’s screenplay, which imbues the narrative with a sense of yearning for transformative change. Yet, as Bert’s fate illustrates, these aspirations are often thwarted by the entrenched structures of power and inequality.

Simone Simon and Robert Newton in Temptation Harbour (1947)

This tension between hope and despair underscores the film’s enduring relevance, offering a poignant reflection on the human condition.

Temptation Harbour is a masterful example of British film noir, distinguished by its moral complexity, atmospheric visuals, and compelling performances. Lance Comfort’s sensitive direction and Otto Heller’s evocative cinematography create a haunting portrait of a man caught between duty and desire, underscoring the fragile boundaries between decency and corruption.

While the film’s pacing and occasional narrative contrivances may detract from its impact, its strengths far outweigh its flaws.

Margaret Barton, Robert Newton and Simone Simon in Temptation Harbour (1947)

More than a noir and more than a crime thriller, and more than a tale of a mermaid in a tub, and more than a father daughter story, and more than a moral fable, Temptation Harbour is a meditation on human vulnerability and the price of ambition.

It's a moral textbook of Englandishness, and a beauty to behold in its four lead actors, Robert Newton, Margaret Barton, Simone Simon, and William Hartnell. All electrify and delight for every second of their showing.

Its nuanced characters, richly textured settings, and socio-political undercurrents make it a work of enduring significance, deserving of greater recognition within the canon of British cinema. As a study of temptation and its consequences, the film offers a timeless exploration of the moral dilemmas that define our shared, or does that make sense, shared humanity? Our shared fondness for noir.