Odd Man Out

It is the winter of 1946-47. Johnny McQueen (James Mason) is a revered leader of the Irish Republican Army in Belfast, Northern Ireland. Recently escaped from prison, he plans to rob a mill to provide funds for the organization though his colleagues urge him not to be involved. Awarded Best British Film at the British Academy Awards and nominated for an Oscar for Best Editing, Odd Man Out, directed by Carol Reed (The Third Man), is the story of a botched robbery that leads to murder and the attempt of a seriously wounded man to elude capture. Pursued by "The Inspector" (Dennis O'Dea), Johnny is helped by Kathleen Sullivan (Kathleen Ryan), a young IRA woman who loves him and tries to smuggle him out of the city. He wanders helplessly in the dark streets and alleys of Belfast, buffeted by rain and snow, living in cellars with derelicts, constantly exposed to danger, looking more like a walking zombie than a revolutionary. The tone of the film is dark and Kafkaesque with its thin line between reality and nightmare.

Johnny is one of Mason's best roles especially during the early part of the film but he is submerged in the second half by a string of exaggerated supporting characters that include a demented painter Lukey (Robert Newton) who wants to paint his death mask, a priest (W.G. Fay) who wants to save his soul, sisters Rosie and Maudie (Fay Compton and Beryl Measor) who give him shelter but force him out, and con man Shell (F.J. McCormick) who wants to use him to make money. Odd Man Out is not a political film or even a suspense thriller but a surreal allegory of the limits of man's compassion. When Lukey looks at Johnny and says, "I understand what I see in him. The truth about us all", we can see ourselves -- running for our life, scared and alone, awaiting the encroaching night.

Odd Man Out is unusual from so many angles, that Carol Reed seems to have invented the point of view, the atmosphere and the characterizations.

The camera angles are particularly interesting. Shot at ground level, looking up. Shot from above looking down. Shadows dance around corners. Perspective is distorted.

Certainly this was James Mason's best role and he shines as the man not used to daylight, (from rotting in prison for many years), who must lead a daring daylight raid that fails, because the sun gets in his eyes at the critical moment.

The rest of the film is built on what happens to Mason next. He meets many characters who use him for their own ends. He becomes a metaphor. The helpless victim in an almost Kafka-esk world.

Newton is, as always, visually arresting. His mastery over the spoken language is stunning here as he cajoles Mason to sit for his portrait.

The end of this film is classic and shocking and should never be revealed. It must be seen with no fore-knowledge for the best effect.

No longer available for purchase, your best bet to see this extraordinary film is to find a Video rental outlet that specializes in British film. Well worth the effort. A MUST SEE for James Mason/Robert Newton fans and for people who love original film work.

Very unusual film, this. Haunting. I'm not a big fan of James Mason but he is excellent in this.

An unnamed organisation (the IRA) in an unnamed Norhern Irish city (Belfast) carry out an armed robbery that goes wrong. Johnny ends up shot, dying and on the run. The movie tracks the multiple stalking of this wounded, dying creature. Everyone wants a piece of him for different reasons.

Why the IRA and Belfast aren't named I don't know - perhaps the politics of the time caused this.

Some aspects of the movie have dated somewhat, but much of it remains gripping and fascinating.

Harold Pinter refers to it constantly in his play Old Times and you can imagine that a young Pinter would have been influenced by this movie.

Check this one out, for sure.

One of the most beautifully directed (Carol Reed) and photographed (Robert Krasker) films I have seen. The story revolves around the attempts of various citizens of Belfast to either aid, comfort or kill a wounded revolutionary gunman. A great deal has been written about this picture, concerning mostly its meaning, and I'm going to (heretically) skip over these issues and focus instead of why I think the film works so well as a piece of art rather than try to figure out what it's saying.

Essentially what Reed and Company have done is create a dark and gloomy urban landscape and made it seductive, even precious to us, by making us care about the people we meet there. Not that these are especially likable people. Many of them aren't, but they're presented fairly and, till near the end, without too much melodrama; and the way they're offered to us, which is to say their environments, vastly warmer and more enticing than the cold night streets the bleeding fugitive is staggering through, create a series of dramatic contrasts between the real world most of us have to move through, and the more imaginative, safer worlds of our homes, where we can retreat to, and imagine we are something else. The wounded Johnny McQueen can afford no such luxury on this bitter night, as each little warm nest offers, for a brief while, a ray of hope that this time he will come in from the cold for good, get warm, rest a little, have his wounds taken care of, and maybe even, if he gets really lucky, find himself a warm bed to sleep in.

Alas, this is not Johnny McQueen's night. Some of the people he encounters treat him decently enough for a while, till they figure out who he is, and then calculation sets in, and selfishness wins out in the end. The film is full of the kind of nocturnal yearnings anyone who has ever lived in a cold city feels as he walks the streets, whether to a pub or train station, home or restaurant, wondering what on earth he is doing out on a night such as this. One goes past this little rowhouse on a sidewalk, or that little walk-down cafe, and looks in the window, sees the people inside, and wishes one were there. Yet cold nights have their pleasures, and even rain has a beauty, as puddles reflect the light of streetlamps and rain-streaked windows make rooms that much more inviting.

Odd Man Out takes these moods, and the musings that accompany them, and raises everything to the max. Johnny isn't merely a man walking down a street, he's a hunted criminal. As we feel as he does, everything comes more intensely into focus than it would normally; as a phone booth can look like the most wonderful place in the world when the snow starts falling. The film makes us see and feel things as we seldom do in normal life, and the result is a kind of compulsive aestheticism that may well be accidental. Anything is or can be beautiful under the right circumstances, and all interior places are inviting when the temperature drops, one hasn't eaten in hours. I suspect that this wasn't the film-makers' intention, that they were hunting bigger game, looking for larger meanings, and the trappings of their picture were intended perhaps as incidental pleasures, or maybe not as pleasures at all. But it is precisely these things,--the visual tropes, not the philosophical and theological underpinnings--that I find most interesting and gratifying about the movie. In the end films have their own meaning, and this one makes me more attentive to the smaller things in life rather than the larger issues; to snow, rain, beer, to boots and overcoats, to the thin white blankets of snow that drape cities on winter nights.

"Odd Man Out" is far more than just a very good "cops and robbers" movie, although it can hold its own with most. Beneath that is a deep psychological drama as Johnny McQueen, an IRA rebel, wounded in a holdup, is pursued by police, his own gang, and several unsavory characters. McQueen becomes less of a man and more symbol to his hunters. He is viewed as a martyr, meal ticket, and art project. Robert Newton is excellent in his role as a half-mad artist who wants to hold Johnny just long enough to paint the expression in the eyes of a dying man. Intensely suspenseful, set in the working-class neighborhoods and slums, the gray atmosphere compliments the plot perfectly. One of James Mason's finest.