The Gentle Gunman

Although no doubt made with the best of intentions, this 1952 drama about two brothers involved with the IRA during WW2 doesn’t quite ignite, not helped by the fact that its two leads, Dirk Bogarde and John Mills, are clearly several Guinness bottles short of a full crate when it comes to a convincing ‘Oirish’ accent. Thankfully though, the loose ends (of which there are quite a few) are held together thanks to fine performances from Robert Beatty and Barbara Mullen.

Based on the stage play by Roger MacDougall, the plot is set amidst ‘the Troubles’ of 1941 but this is also the height of the Blitz during WW2. The plot begins in a tiny Irish backwater close to the border with local Irishman Dr. Brannigan (Joseph Tomelty) playing a round of chess with his friend Henry Truethome (Gilbert Harding), an Englishman who visits Brannigan on and off though the two men can never quite decide whether they are friend or foe due to their different political opinions and of course the legitimacy of English rule in Ireland. Meanwhile in London, two Irishmen residing in their lodgings - namely Patsy McGuire (Jack MacGowran) and Tim Connolly (Liam Redwood), two IRA members. While Patsy is busy adding the ‘finishing touches’ to a suitcase which contains a DIY bomb, a third man arrives: Matt Sullivan (Dirk Bogarde), also a member of the IRA. His mission is to carry said suitcase to a London Underground station and detonate the device, too bad that minutes before he can carry out the dastardly deed air raid sirens are heard and everyone and anyone within the periphery hurries underground to seek shelter along the platform. It doesn’t seem to worry Matt that in a few minutes all the people will be dead, after all, they’re only English. Even a group of playing kids running around the suitcase initially don’t change his mind but he loses his nerve when one of the kids observes that the suitcase seems to tick like a clock. At this very moment a tube train arrives and Matt tries to enter but it’s too late – in panic he runs up the escalators to escape the explosion. Enter another man in a trench coat who has been following Matt all along. He is Terry Sullivan (John Mills), Matt’s older brother and although he too used to be associated with the IRA he now has his doubts about their brutal tactics. At the last moment Terry throws the suitcase onto the tracks and into the tunnel before it blows up. Terry may have saved the children and countless others but he’s clever enough to realise that this heroic deed means he’s now marked for death by the IRA who see him as a traitor to the cause. Worried that his brother will end up dead just like their father (who also died for the ‘cause’) Terry is adamant to save him and blows the whistle (figuratively speaking)… A short time later the coppers arrive to arrest Patsy and Connolly but Terry ensures that Matt escapes though the brothers go separate ways after a heated argument.

Back in Ireland, a remote gas station (also close to the border) is run by widow Molly Fagan whose husband, also a member of the IRA, got killed during one of the organisation’s campaigns. With Molly lives her daughter Maureen (Elizabeth Sellars) – a fierce fanatic who hates the English and is in love with Terry, but changes her mind quickly when she learns of his betrayal of Ireland, resulting in her claiming she’s now in love with Matt. Also living in the adjoining house is adolescent Johnny (James ‘Cosh Boy’ Kenney), shortly to begin a job as an apprentice dock worker in Belfast – a fact that makes his Mum happy as it means he won’t get ‘recruited’ by the ‘firm’ and will avoid getting killed like his father. Little does Molly know that secretly, IRA leader Shinto (Robert Beatty) has already begun to train Johnny in the use of guns. Shortly after his departure to Belfast, Matt arrives at the Fagan gas station which seems to serve as a hideout/meeting point for Shinto’s men. Matt has been informed that both Patsy McGuire and Tim Connolly are about to be transferred from a London prison to a prison in Belfast and no time is wasted planning an offence on the prison van. Thing is, neither Matt nor Shinto have any idea on which boat the prison van will arrive but hold on… young Johnny, now working at the port, has access to such information and Matt – despite promising Molly not to look up Johnny in Belfast – does precisely that and the lad is bamboozled into stealing some papers containing vital information at the end of the shift. Suffice to say it all goes pear-shaped and when the security guards become suspicious (Matt, who just at this very moment gets pestered by a drunken doxy while waiting in his escape car) Johnny loses his nerve and hits one of the security men with a torch, prompting his colleague to shoot. Barely alive, the bullet has been lodged in Johnny’s spine and Matt knows he can’t take him to a hospital, so he brings him to Dr. Brannigan instead…

Meanwhile, Terry has also arrived at the Fagan household looking for Matt… he knows that Matt and Shinto will make a calculated attempt to free the two prisoners and hopes he can change his brother’s mind. Maureen, now shunning her former love interest, deliberately lies to Terry that she hasn’t seen Matt for weeks but he knows that in all likelihood he’s already in Belfast. Desperate to convince Matt otherwise Terry travels to Belfast and by so doing incurs the wrath of Shinto and his cronies who have secretly condemned the ‘traitor’ to death… leading to a climax that sees two men dead and several questions unanswered…

THE GENTLE GUNMAN is by no means a bad film and has its fair share of tense moments though it must be said it is flawed despite director Basil Dearden’s excellent direction and Gordon Dines’ atmospheric cinematography. Firstly, the ending is left obscure (why?) and lacks any kind of pathos or a satisfactory conclusion. Secondly, despite the fact that both Dirk Bogarde and John Mills were incredibly talented and accomplished actors, neither is exactly right for the part of two Irishmen with links to the IRA. At least Mills manages to have an occasional Irish accent whereas Bogarde’s attempt is simply beyond hope! Bogarde was more convincing as criminal Tom Riley in the 1950 police drama THE BLUE LAMP, also directed by Dearden. Canadian-born actor Robert Beatty fares considerably better as a man driven by hatred and rage and as for American-born Barbara Mullen, she was of Irish descent anyway. Even Scottish Elizabeth Sellars musters her Irish in a believable manner.

Newly restored and available on Blu-ray, DVD and Digital, THE GENTLE GUNMAN offers stills gallery and trailer plus ‘A Closer Look’ with writer and Dirk Bogarde aficionado Matthew Sweet and Phoung Lee – endlessly discussing the film and providing their expert verdicts lest we all are too simple-minded to build our own opinion. What would have been far more interesting is perhaps the reaction and criticism the film received upon its initial release and so forth.