Passport to Pimlico: Henry Cornelius

Henry Cornelius' Passport to Pimlico is the kind of comedy that I hold near and dear to my heart. It is one of the films that proves that good comedy doesn't have to rely on vulgarity, shock value, or gross-out humor. Don't misunderstand me. There is a time and a place for such things. But recently it seems like Hollywood has come to the conclusion that good comedies need to contain explicit content. But that isn't true. Many of the greatest comedies ever made contain almost no graphic material. Instead, they rely on witty and intelligent writing and brilliant comedic performances. Some films are able to combine the two, like Stanley Kubrick's Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb (1964) which featured a stunning screenplay and a bevy of historic comedic performances. Other comedy films focus more on performances. The works of the silent comedians such as Buster Keaton and Charlie Chaplin come to mind. And then, there are comedies where the writing pulls the most weight. Passport to Pimlico belongs to this category. But that isn't because it lacks memorable performances. Instead, this is because the plot doesn't give any one character enough screen-time to truly develop a mature comedic persona. This is because Passport to Pimlico isn't really about any one character, but about a group of people thrown into bizarre circumstances. To make a long story short, the citizens of the Pimlico district of London discover that, due to a legal loophole, they are technically living on Burgundian soil and as such are not technically British subjects. The residents of Pimlico are swift to declare themselves separate from Great Britain. Why? Because that means that they no longer have to follow British laws concerning post-World War Two rationing. But this also makes Pimlico a mecca for illegal trading and the black market. The true joy of Passport to Pimlico is not necessarily witnessing this small group of people try and establish themselves as a legitimate nation-state while combating the British government (although it is part of it). Instead, it comes from the slow realization that the film-makers are using Pimlico as a metaphor for West Berlin. Just as the Soviet Bloc surrounded West Berlin, the people of Pimlico become dependent on people from the outside airlifting food and supplies to them. What begins as a quaint comedy becomes a delightful satire of Cold War politics. And in addition to all of this, it retains its distinctive Ealing Studios charm. While it might not be as popular as other Ealing Studio comedies like Kind Hearts and Coronets (1949) and The Ladykillers (1955), it remains one of the best British comedies of the immediate post-war era.

8/10