Before going into some of the genres it is worth recording that my cinema - going days began in the late 40's when there was a cinema on every corner and a queue for every film.  Laurel and Hardy were still going strong and the Bowery Boys were making their own series as a spin-off from Angels With Dirty Faces and Boys Town.  The cinemas I went to had exotic names such as Odeon, Hippodrome, Rialto, Granada with one or two more prosaic like The Magnet and Majestic.  My favourite was The Cameo which was presumably named for its bijou size.  The Cameo was a church converted into a cinema and because of this many people thought it was cursed.  As it turned out they may have had a point ; the takings were robbed one night when the manager was shot and killed , there were several fires and in one incident a fire blazed away at the rear while the patrons insisted on staying to watch the end of the picture amidst the smoke and flames ; it was just after the war so they probably thought little of it.  If the picture was certified with an "X" then children were not allowed in but if a picture was certified as an "A" then children could go in as long as they were accompanied by an adult.  Because of this, a social phenomenon came about which would be unheard of today when with the consent of a parent children as young as five would plead with adults going into the cinema to "take one in please" and most of the time the adult would take the money, pay for "one and a child" and they would part once inside the cinema.  The process became more refined as time went by whereby one little kid would ask to "take one in please" and half a dozen more waifs and strays would appear when the adult consented.  Once inside, they would all vanish in the gloom.

Naturally, none of this was applicable for the Saturday Matinee which was looked forward to with relish throughout the week.  Every cinema in the city was packed with kids --- under the seats, over the seats, on the chandeliers, up and down the aisles with not one actually in their seat until the lights dimmed and peace reigned.  The feature always began with the hero in peril from the last reel and Sir Galahad, Brick Bradford, Batman and Flash Gordon all devised miraculous escapes week after week.  But the loudest cheers were always reserved for the cowboys and their trusty steeds --Roy Rogers and Trigger, Lash Larue and Black Diamond, Gene Autry and Champion and The Lone Ranger and Silver with Buck Jones, Tom Mix and all the others not too far behind.  John Wayne would occasionally feature in one of the many epics he made for Republic Pictures but the term " superstar" was not in use at that time and he was just one of many cowboys roaming the backstreets of Liverpool at that time.

Certainly everyone has their own opinion about what they like and what is good and what is bad and quite often "good" can be dull while "bad" can be extremely entertaining.  As an example, one of the most stultifyingly boring films ever made is still doing the rounds today and generally accepted as a classic of the British cinema.  There are even people who travel to  Carnforth railway station where the film was shot and taking geekdom to its ultimate one or two of them actually re-enact scenes from the film with themselves as players.   Just how a film mainly set in a drab and depressing railway cafe where they sold drab and depressing tea and buns and outside was a drab and depressing rain could ever inspire the dog-like devotion this film inspires is completely beyond me.  The film is of course

Apart from George Formby and Gracie Fields providing some light relief most of the black and white films in the 30’s and 40’s were serious stuff. In fact many British films of that era have the strange quality of being an extension of school lessons as if movies had to justify their very existence by being educational.  There seemed to be a sense of self-conscious belief that if a film deviated from some serious theme approved by the establishment then it was accordingly frivolous and therefore degenerate.  Nobody seemed to notice that it flew in the face of Ars Gratia Artis or if they did then they didn’t care.

It is fair to say that the films of the 50’s and 60’s echoed the changing times.  Nevertheless, although grittier and wider in content there was still an overriding penchant to “give out a message” or explore in depth  some  social scenario  -it seems that they just couldn’t bring themselves to have fun. 
The Bridge on The River Kwai  by David Lean, combined William Holden and Alec Guinness and Jack Hawkins in an exploration of the effects of life in a Japanese prison camp.  Made in 1957, the film was uncomfortably close to reality and too soon after the war for many people but it was an excellent study of a British officer under pressure in an intolerable situation.
Yet another study of an officer under pressure was Tunes of Glory { 1960 }, an excellent psychological drama where Alec Guinness was never better as the odious and thick-headed Lt. Colonel Jock Sinclair in charge of a Scottish Regiment. John Mills plays the new commanding officer, Colonel Barrow,  who Sinclair resents and despises for his upper-class upbringing.  Sinclair is too stupid to foresee any consequences to his constant undermining of Colonel Barrow’s position and the situation leads to tragedy for both men.  Great little movie with two great actors honing their skills in readiness for greater things.
Another great little movie of this era was the superb adaptation of Melville's novel, Billy Budd.  Terence Stamp excelled as the stammering, young seaman whose life was made a misery by Robert Ryan's Master-at- arms during the Napoleonic Wars.

Nearer to home, a slimline Albert Finney, a delicious Shirley Anne Field and a hard-edged Rachel Roberts played out one of  the forerunners of the "angry young man" crop of films in  Saturday Night and Sunday Morning. Albert Finney struck a chord with his portrayal of a factory-hand striking out at everything and everyone in a blind rage at a life he was supposed to be happy with.  After all, he had everything he could want –a steady job, the obligatory binge in the  pub at the weekend and a nice girl friend.  The vague rage inside that there could be so much more and that it was perhaps a life unlived was later echoed by James Dean in Rebel Without a Cause.  Rachel Roberts is Finney's female counterpart and they both find solace in an illicit sexual liaison which finds her eventually pregnant with a husband to face.  Her performance is a tour-de-force suggesting a real life intimacy with the subject matter.
Room at The Top  has Laurence Harvey as an angry young man with a precise knowledge of his problems and a willingness to do something about it.  The problems arise when ambition turns into ruthlessness and from then on it all starts going wrong.  Mind you, he gets to have an affair along the way with every schoolboy's dream girl Simone Signoret which is not a thing to be treated lightly.
The educational ethos was still present in films such as Far from The Madding Crowd  but with players such as Peter Finch, Terence Stamp and Julie Christie nobody was complaining and even heavy dramas such as D.H.Lawrence's Women in Love was acceptable mainly due to the presence of Glenda Jackson and Oliver Reed.
And just to  reinforce the changes that were taking place there was actually a British musical !   ------ Oliver  made by Carol Reed in 1968.  The inspired casting went a long way to making the movie into a class act with Ron Moody superb as Fagin, Jack Wild the epitome of an Artful Dodger, Shani Wallis as an appealingly pathetic tart - with -a -heart and best of all Oliver Reed was evil incarnate dripping malevolence in his wake accompanied by the no less malevolent Bullseye, his dog.  It had been a long time coming but this was great stuff from the British cinema.  At long last the stars had roles they could get their teeth into and “entertainment” had for once taken precedence over angst.
The chequered history of British film continued and whenever David Lean made a film it inevitably stood out from the rest.  
After Dr Zhivago and Lawrence of Arabia I was beginning to warm to David Lean after his aberrations with Celia Johnson 
and when Ryan’s Daughter came along total redemption followed.  Robert Bolt wrote the story, loosely based on and inspired by Flaubert’s Madame Bovary, and David Lean turned it into a magnificent film.  Set in the West of Ireland in 1916, the infamous Black and Tans are led by a Major Doryean { Chris Jones } suffering from shell-shock which manifests itself whenever Doryean is under stress.  Sarah Miles in possibly her best-ever role as Rosie Ryan falls for the young Major and they have an illicit affair.  Illicit because Rosie is betrothed to Shaughnessy, the staid and passionless schoolteacher played by Robert Mitchum who for once gives some inkling of the actor that he could have been   At first the role fits perfectly with Mitchum’s wooden acting persona but he comes into his own later in the film when Rosie’s infidelity comes to light and Mitchum reveals depths previously rarely shown in his sympathy for her plight.  Trevor Howard is excellent trying to keep his recalcitrant flock in order but John Mills stole in behind everybody and claimed the Oscar for his portrayal of Michael, the village idiot.
If this film had been made today, there would have been naked  bodies writhing everywhere because “the audience demands it”  I don’t think the audience does demand it and neither did David Lean when he said ;
“To suggest sex and leave it to the audience is much more erotic than showing it all.
 Sex is imagination".
This was great stuff and a breathless audience awaited more but Lean chose to wait 16 years before making another film.

  Things became even better in 1964 when mine and many other people’s favourite British film of all time burst onto the screen with unprecedented impact.  The Director was Cy Endfield and the film was Zulu.   The subject matter was the siege at Rorke’s Drift in 1879 when a 3,000 strong force of bloodthirsty Zulu warriors fresh from the massacre at Isandhlawana were looking for fresh conquests.  The few hundred soldiers at the isolated settlement decided to remain and fight a holding action rather than be caught out in the open and the film concentrates on the ebb and flow of the battle in a fascinating and realistic enactment of the action.  Michael Caine’s interpretation of a typical British officer of the era is on the face of it a scathing representation of a foppish, self-serving and class-ridden individual but as the film unfolds his Gonville Bromhead’s anachronistic eccentricities and depth of character become endearing.  This is quite an achievement particularly for such a young actor because it would have been far easier to have stayed with a one-dimensional  cardboard cut-out interpretation of the character.  Stanley Baker, playing the pragmatic  Lt. John Chard was the perfect foil for Caine while James Booth was perfect as the cockney Henry Hook.  Richard Burton’s narration was similar to his voice-over on War of the Worlds when his laconic and liquid tones carried far more gravitas than some of the more hysterical narrations I have heard [ mostly American }.

The battle scenes are second to none with the fight in the hospital where Hook won his V.C. the most exciting of all.  But just as nerve-wracking are the intervals between the action when the ever diminishing force regroup time after time.  The Zulu warriors as individuals are truly scary but when the waves of Zulu regiments appear filing over the veldt  walking increasingly faster until they break into a run and finally racing forward with the battle cry Usuthu! the effect is electric.
Many scenes are memorable but the one that stirs the blood is when the formidable army of Zulus stand on the hillock ready to attack and banging on their shields in unison chant Usuthu over and over again.  The fear in the ranks of the soldiers is palpable until the largely Welsh regiment respond with a stirring rendition of Men of Harlech.
I have seen this film many times and it stands as one of the most exciting films of all time.  Rorke’s Drift has become legendary and whenever we watch such re-enactments of historical events there is no doubt that each and every one of us imagines ourselves on the field of battle and always in some heroic role.

Zulu was a difficult act to follow and sadly it was a one-off.  There are no British films after this that I can think of which hold a candle to it.  Cy Endfield had set the standard and thrown down the gauntlet and nobody has to date picked it up.
It has been said that the British press made much of this battle in order to minimise the catastrophe which had taken place at Isandhlwana a few hours earlier.  Critics of the film are in a minority but some have pointed out that the depictions of Hook, Chard and Bromhead are incorrect.  Whether this is true or not Zulu remains the most exciting and authentic version of the battle that we are ever likely to see. Cy Endfield received all the praise but Zulu owes a great deal to John Prebble's screenplay. Historian and author, Prebble has the knack of bringing history alive.

It’s not true to say that things went downhill after that because many good films have been and still are being made but British films always seem to revert to the formulaic, family angst films to the exclusion of adventure films when a healthy dose of each would be acceptable.
Michael Caine was naturally snapped up Hollywood but returned as the drunken professor in the excellent Educating Rita from the play by Willy Russell.  Originally set in Russell’s home town of Liverpool, the film was shot in Dublin because it was alleged to look more like Liverpool which has always been a puzzle to me.  Nevertheless, Caine was brilliant in his role of a world-weary professor of English Literature as was Julie Walters as Rita.  One of the main reasons we enjoy certain films is that we identify with such and such a character and while a young girl would never see herself behind the mealy-bags in Rorke's Drift there is many a one who could identify with Rita.  The number of people I have met over the years who are not well-read or have a formal education but are clever and quick in their own right is truly astounding and there is surely a male variant of the Rita story waiting to be made.

Another very similar film was Shirley Valentine again by Liverpudlian playwright Willy Russell which combined the classic combination of humour and pathos to make an excellent “ I’m gonna do that just as soon as I leave the cinema" film.    A blow for freedom for bored housewives everywhere, many identified with the heroine played by Pauline Collins. The wry Scouse  humour combined with the feisty housewife who escapes to Mykonos and meets up with a handsome Greek { Tom Conti } struck a chord and this film has become a cult classic in certain quarters -- one of them is our house.  

There are of course always the Bond films which started out quite well with adaptations of Ian Flemings novels such as From Russia with Love working very well but sadly the storylines have been superceded by the so called special-effects and the whole thing has turned into a caricature of what Fleming intended.

 The Day of The Jackal  [1973 } was a good example of which way we should be going with Edward Fox perfect as the chilling assassin - in fact Fox's assassin was far more in keeping with Fleming's  conception of Bond.  In many ways Producers often shoot themselves in the foot by making films which they think the public want but in many cases the aficionado of any given hero such as Bond want nothing more than a true representation of how they see the character.  Anyone who produced a Bond with the quality of Jackal and the menace of Edward Fox would be doing more of a service to the public and produce consistent quality rather than the cartoon-like films that Bond has descended to.

But for every film such as this there are too many lightweight things like Notting Hill which are simply vehicles for Hugh Grant to pretend he is as good as Cary Grant.  

The execrable 51^st State quite recently plumbed the depths with Robert Carlyle’s Scouse accent deplorable and a script written presumably while waiting for a bus.  Like so many before, the film exploited the stereotyped image of the Liverpudlian as a loveable scally, threw in a Hollywood star, Samuel. L. Jackson in a kilt and set up one or two so-called action scenes and hoped there were enough geeks out there to make it pay.  We and they can all do so much better than that but it seems that for every step forward there must be two steps back.

 But every now and then British cinema throws up a gem and they don't come much better than the little known 
East is East { 1999 }
Directed by Damien O'Donnell
Set in Salford in the 1960's to a background of Enoch Powers "Rivers of Blood" speeches, the film follows the misadventures of an Anglo-Pakistani family with a white mother { Ella Khan } played superbly by Linda Bassett and her traditionalist Pakistani husband { George Khan } played brilliantly by Om Puri.
Advertisements of Enoch Powell speeches are a total irrelevance as the whole family, like so many others, are too absorbed in attempting to make something of their lives to have the time to take an interest in the larger picture.
The central theme is George Khan's crusade to preserve Muslim values within his family while living within a Northern English cultural background. The opening scene where the Anglo-Pakistani children are carrying the banners at the head of a Catholic parade while their father returns from the Mosque sets the scene to perfection.
Most of the seven children whose ages range from early twenties down to 12 year old Sajid accept George's dictates when he's around but ignore them when he's absent ----cooking bacon sandwiches, sneaking off to the disco, tomboy Meenah playing football in the streets and so on. Ella and the children have become as English as fish'n chips while George after 30 years in England is still attempting to live life as a Muslim father.
George's minor dictates are either flouted or carried out with a grudging acceptance for the most part but when he moves into the world of arranged marriages it is a step too far and the effect is cataclysmic upon the whole family. Nazir jilts his arranged bride at the altar and is disowned by his father who nevertheless presses on and arranges a joint marriage for two of his other sons.
The film is essentially a comedy and is hilariously funny but like all good comedy it has a poignant counterpoint underscored by one scene in particular when George gives Ella a hiding. This scene is extremely brutal but totally in keeping with George's vision of how a Muslim father should act in order to retain order within his family.
Linda Bassett's Ella deserves a special mention as she carries on working in the chip shop and soldiers on in order to keep body and soul together while George plays the Muslim patriarch. Ella is identifiable with legions of Northern working class women who do the same thing in many different circumstances ----women work, men play.
The whole cast are superb and like it's writer and director they appear to have had first hand knowledge of their subject.
As a comedy the film is unreservedly successful but it examines and dissects racism, hypocrisy, integration, immigration and humanity in a very perceptive and potent manner. The comedic overlay is not there to soften the impact but only serves to emphasise that this film is a serious study of Northern working-class life in the 1960's which is possibly more relevant today than it was then.
Typically, the film is little known and was poorly advertised and the poster appears to have been thrown together as an afterthought.  The film has a cult following simply because it has only become known by word of mouth.

Daniel Day Lewis, Anthony Hopkins, Sean Connery, Robert Shaw, Richard Harris, Madeleine Stowe, Oliver Reed, Jude Law and so many more are all actors and actresses who have that indefinable charisma which can convey so much with a twitch of an eyebrow or a tilt of the head and they are all making films which are both meaningful and entertaining.  Those two words should be engraved over what remains of the British film studios and perhaps one fine day the tide will turn.  But the world is ever-changing and it is more and more difficult to define what is a "British" film when British actors are commonly seen in Hollywood movies, American stars play essentially British roles and British technicians are common to American films.  Unlike continental films which retain their unique status simply by reason of language and are instantly recognisable as French cinema or Polish cinema or Spanish cinema and so on, British film has like so much else of our culture for better or for worse melded with American filming and in the process lost its identity completely.