An Ealing classic is dusted off and relaunched to commemorate the death of its forefather...

“Time stands still, here in the Valley” - Mr Rhys the Innkeeper.

When we think of the legacy of Ealing Studios, film fans will always remember the classic comedies Passport to Pimlico (1949), The Lavender Hill Mob (1951) and The Man in the White Suit (1951). Long considered the Studios' finest cinema achievements, the beauty of an Ealing comedy is its realist style. Whereas The Carry On films and the Boulting Brothers relied on caricature, Ealing always focused on the ordinary man, notably Stanley Holloway and Alec Guinness, being placed in an extraordinary situation.

Such was their comedy success it’s easy to forget that Ealing dabbled in more serious, and at times, much darker stuff. Horror was never a genre associated with the studio, although the black humour of the excellent Kind Hearts and Coronets (1949) - with its imaginative murders - pre-dated the ghoulish Theatre of Blood (1973) by nearly 25 years; and yet Ealing produced one of Britain’s greatest horror films, The Dead of Night (1945). Such was its success, and the subsequent reputation it held in the years following its release, that it long overshadowed an equally interesting supernatural piece called The Halfway House.

Both The Dead of Night and The Halfway House follow the typical Ealing concept of putting ordinary people in less than ordinary situations; but, unlike the comedies, the tone is darker and the characters are flawed. Whilst The Dead of Night relies on shock effects, The Halfway House, with its dreamlike atmosphere, owes its subtle style to the horror films produced by Val Lewton at RKO. Although melodramatic and episodic at times, the film maintains an eerie sense of unease throughout.

Adapted from Denis Ogden’s stage play, The Halfway House begins by briefly introducing the characters who, for different reasons, are about to journey to a remote old inn in the Welsh Valleys. They all have good reason to get away from the outside world. Among them is David Davies, a famous musical conductor who learns he is terminally ill. Returning to his Welsh homeland to evaluate his final months, he remembers the inn as a child but is surprised to see it rebuilt after it was destroyed in a German bomb raid a year earlier. Joining him is black marketer William Oakley and disgraced army officer Captain Fortescue. Recently released from prison for embezzling mess funds, Fortescue has lost direction in his life and decides to join forces with Oakley.

After a while, our characters are joined by three couples. Firstly, there's former naval captain Harry Meadows and his French wife Alice, who, after losing their only son in action, have been trying to patch together their rocky relationship. Consequently, the same applies to our second couple, Richard and Valerie French, whose impending divorce is affecting their daughter Joanna.

Finally there’s Terence and Margaret, a young couple whose forthcoming marriage looks doubtful because of Irish-born Terence’s decision to take up a post in Berlin, Ireland being a neutral country in wartime. However, Margaret, who serves in the forces, is outraged by his refusal to compromise. Arriving at The Halfway House, this eclectic group is greeted by the owner Mr Rhys and his daughter Gwyneth. The place is rather quaint and the hosts are affable enough, but there is something otherworldly about the surroundings and the guests begin to notice that something isn’t quite right. Rhys casts no reflection in a mirror, Gwyneth casts no shadow, and all the newspapers and calendars are back dated exactly one year before - when the inn was bombed.

While very much a propaganda film illustrating the true effects of war, The Halfway House is an unusual film. What makes it effective is the sheer ordinariness of the characters as they come to terms with the problems that have affected their lives. The final twist where they get to redeem themselves is both moving and effective.

The film has its faults of course. The special effects are none too convincing; the Welsh accents are clichéd and over the top; and some irrelevant scenes, such as the séance, dilute the film’s tension, but on the whole, The Halfway House makes very enjoyable viewing. The performances within are decent, despite the acting feeling overly theatrical at times, but this is in no means a big fault.

The heart of the film belongs to real life father and daughter Mervyn and Glynis Johns, who play their ghostly roles with quiet dignity. There is a uniquely detached air about them, as if they are not so much ghosts as spiritual guides full of Welsh wisdom and supernatural insight, who are sent back to Earth to help the guests face their inner demons.

Directed by Basil Deardon, Ealing’s most prolific filmmakers with 18 movies to his name, The Halfway House is due for a DVD re-release on 20 June to mark the centenary of his birth. Although not one of his best efforts, it is an intriguing character study that Deardon directs with the customary professionalism that was expected from Ealing Studios in its heyday. On the whole, The Halfway House is an enjoyable, eerie horror, but tighter handling of the film's plot - and better cohesion between characters - would have made it a classic. It is, however, an unusual and thought provoking movie worthy of repeated viewings.

IF YOU ENJOYED THIS ARTICLE, PLEASE HELP SUPPORT OUR SITE, AT NO COST WITH ONE CLICK ON THE FACEBOOK 'LIKE' BUTTON BELOW: