This is a propaganda film, a sort of 'why we fight' reflection on English culture made as the threat of invasion diminished after the Battle of Britain. But it isn't like other WWII morale boosters. There is no flag-waving in this subtle, literary tale. It creates an impression of identity- a profound and unconscious tradition- forged in the legends of history.
It starts as a falcon soars skywards at the time of Geoffrey Chaucer's pilgrims, which is edited into a Spitfire as we pass through 600 years in a single, amazing jump cut. Three modern travellers find themselves in Kent in search of blessings, and come within the influence of a local historian/magistrate (Eric Portman), who may himself travel in need of penance.
The acting of the trio is variable. Real life American soldier John Sweet, is plainly an amateur. Dennis Price is well cast. But Sheila Sim in her debut is extremely good as an ordinary girl surviving unusual times. The McGuffin of the glueman who pours the sticky stuff onto the hair of women out late at night is eccentric, but works in such a strange, illusory environment.
It is a wonderful work of magic realism made with rare intelligence which creates a profound impression of the Kent countryside, and reflects a local facility for wry understatement. But it is impossible to say what this spiritual, intuitive film means exactly, it has to be experienced. Powell and Pressburger communicate the unsayable.