BERYL MERCER:

I decided I'd like to see the Late Night Film - mainly, I now suspect, because the prog. booklet didn't state what the film was to be, and I was curious. But the projector turned temperamental and the Late Night Film Show became the Late Late Night Film Show!

At last, comes the picture (thank you, Danny Kaye) - and what did we see? No not the same old beautiful chorus girls, but a 'home-made' low-budget film called "It happened Here." It was quite dreadful, and I felt distinctly uncomfortable because I found myself sitting with the charming Hans-Warner Heinrichs - and the film concerned how things might have been if a successful German invasion of Britain had taken place in the early 1940s.

Pat Kearney was showing the film, and he was bedevilled by that temperamental projector, which broke dawn about four times, and finally I was relieved to be able to say with perfect truth that I was too sleepy to await the end of the film. So I wandered into the lounge to look for Archie, whom I found talking to Vic Hallett and a friend of his, David ... David ..? Sorry, I've forgotten his last name - or was it Burke? Anyway, Archie said had I enjoyed the film, I said no, Vic said what was it, I told him, he said he'd seen it, and presto - I was involved in a spirited discussion.

Oddly enough, we couldn't get on to the same level. For me this was a quite weird experience, since I pride myself on being able to talk and/or listen to anybody. But Vic was too young to remember the war, and it was before David's time, so though we all tried to get through to each other, it didn't work.

Sitting in the darkened Con hall, with a young, pleasant German beside me, I raged inwardly at the film's portrayal of British collaboration with the German conquerors. Oh, I was young then, and idealistic, and fiercely patriotic; also, I was downright mad at the Nazis for having ruined my education. But when Winston Churchill made his famous "We will fight on the beaches .... we will never surrender" speech - I, for one, echoed his words and meant them.

I watched the film, making what I hoped were dry and witty remarks to Hans-Werner, while I writhed. In front of me I could dirty perceive the backs of Waldemar Kunming (who was a p.o.w. at one time), and 'Fux' Reinecke. I wondered what they were thinking and feeling - they, who, like me, were old enough to recall the war. I watched what I thought were actors portraying British Fascists, mouthing their terrible tenets about white superiority and the sins of the Jews. I think it was around then that Diane Rosenblum and her escort got up and walked out ... I learned later that these had not been actors; they were some of Oswald Mosley's perverts in different uniforms, and I suppose they must have jumped at the chance of putting over their corruptive propaganda on the screen. I remember thinking at the time that the dialogue was particularly unforced and seemed absolutely spontaneous. It was. Sometimes I think that British permissiveness to minority groups goes a sight too far. Still, I suppose it's better to have these dangerous cranks out in the open, where authority can keep an eye on them. If they were clamped down on, they'd only go underground and make like a persecuted minority, and then we mightn't know what they were up to until too late.

One element of authenticity eluded the filmmakers: having no insight into the Nazi mentality, they sought out a group of British blackshirts for inspiration. Realising that concocted dialogue could never be as effective as hearing the fascists themselves speak, Brownlow invited three of them to appear in a semi-dramatised scene in which they are questioned by members of the cast about their views. This six-minute sequence was seen at the film's festival screenings but when United Artists picked the film up for distribution they cut it out, as detailed elsewhere in this booklet by Brownlow himself. Many voices were raised in protest against what the company referred to as a 'slight deletion' and a group of critics, including Alexander Walker, Kenneth Tynan and Dilys Powell, called for it to be reinstated. They described it as a 'salutary shock' and felt that the fact that such pernicious and repellent views existed was surely reason enough to bring them to the attention of the public.

United Artists would not relent and it wasn't until 1994 that the sequence was seen again, when it was decided it 'no longer posed a threat'. It remains shocking and some commentators regarded the inclusion of such repugnant views as equivalent to condoning them, though this was the opposite of Brownlow's intention.

- Dr Josephine Botting, BFI booklet accompanying DVD.

Once we got off the subject of that film we had a very pleasant and stimulating conversation. At about three a.m. Archie decided to go to bed, and I told him I'd follow in a few minutes. As it turned out I was a liar, because on my way out of the lounge I encountered Pat Kearney and his charming, intelligent wife Marion - and off I went again about that film! Naturally they didn't agree with me - I didn't really expect them to - and once again I found that I simply couldn't get my point of protest over to younger people. I began to wonder if I was wrong and all the others were right - but the following day I mentioned my reactions to Con-committee member Jean Muggoch. To my relief, she agreed with me completely; she said she had strongly and repeatedly advised the committee not to show that film, but she had been overruled.

To be fair, I'll say right now that this was the only black mark I would award to the Concom; the rest of the Con was most enjoyable.

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