“Basil Radford.” In any word-association challenge, the name is likely to bring the reply “Naunton Wayne!” They were to reprise that cricket-obsessed pair from The Lady Vanishes quite a few times. There is good reason instead for replying “The Flying Squad!”
Made in 1941, this is just short of an hour in length. Cinematically speaking, it was made as rapidly as the Edgar Wallace novel upon which it is based (he could dictate one in a weekend). As such, it sports the familiar Wallace device of a scam in which the élite conspire with low life (the latter set to take the rap, should things go awry). Boldly, it turns around an import business – an aeroplane by night – which uses face powder as a front for what appears to be cocaine. Even more boldly, the Bond Street ringleader is a suave Jack Hawkins who would become noted for the portrayal of probity itself (except of course for that masterpiece The League of Gentlemen).
Along the way, Hawkins has caused the brother of glamorous Phyllis Brooks to meet a watery end, something which prompts a Scotland Yard Inspector (Sebastian Shaw) to prevail upon her to nail this long-running racket. Her many furs spring up against art-deco settings, but all the while a violin plays, a haunting reminder of the dead.
Hokum, of course, but Basil Radford's appearances – in gaol and without - transform this into something else – and make for one of the best endings to a film (which brings back ever-rebarbative Kathleen Harrison who supplied a good what-for early on). Here is time well spent.