The List of Adrian Messenger (1963)

YouTube suggested this film to me, and when I looked up a synopsis, it sounded fairly interesting. A man asks a favour of a friend who is ex-MI5: here is a list, of ten men, living in various parts of Great Britain, nothing seemingly to tie them together, no similar occupation, no similar background, nothing. But find them , ask each of them if all is well, whether they’re still living at the addresses given in the list.

The important word here being ‘living’. Because, when the friend—Anthony Gethryn (George C Scott) sets about tracking down the men, it doesn’t take him along to find out that most of the men on the list are already dead, killed in accidents over the past five years. They couldn’t really be accidents, could they?

Very interesting. Rather like And Then There Were None (which, by the way, is referred to more than once in the course of The List of Adrian Messenger). I decided this was a film I had to watch.

When the credits began to roll, I sat up, because suddenly here were familiar names, one after another. Tony Curtis. Robert Mitchum. Burt Lancaster. Kirk Douglas. Frank Sinatra. Why on earth hadn’t I heard of this film before, I wondered. Tony Curtis, Kirk Douglas and Robert Mitchum, especially, are among my favourites, and even if I haven’t seen all their films, I am mostly at least aware of many of the films they worked in. And one that seemed like such a casting coup? How come I hadn’t known about this?

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The Treasure of the Sierra Madre (1948)

This is one film I’ve known of for a long time, but have always had conflicting views on whether I wanted to watch it or not. On the one hand, I usually enjoy Westerns (more the escapist adventure kind, I will admit; but also, increasingly, those which go just beyond that). On the other hand, Humphrey Bogart is not one of my favourite actors. Then, again: I knew that this film (unlike another ‘seeking-gold-in-the-West’ film I love, McKenna’s Gold) was more gritty, more real. So Bogart—whom I do acknowledge as a good actor—might have done well in it.

The only way to find out, I guessed, would be to watch it for myself.

The story begins in a small Mexican town, Tampico, where a broke American, Fred Dobbs (Bogart) is wandering about, trying to make ends meet. Dobbs seems to have no set idea in mind of what he wants to do: he doesn’t seem to make any attempts to get a job, and all his energies are directed towards relatively prosperous-looking fellow-Americans who might be able to spare him some money to buy a meal.

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Heaven Knows, Mr Allison (1957)

It’s a strange thing, but I’ve noticed I invariably end up watching one actor again and again—often unwittingly. I saw Deborah Kerr in Vacation from Marriage a couple of weeks back; last week, I saw her in The Prisoner of Zenda, and then today, in Heaven Knows, Mr Allison. This is a film I hadn’t heard of till a few days back, and now I can think of few films that I’ve loved more. It’s superb.

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