Crime doesn’t pay, but it does help with the bills – a sentiment that is often the foundation of many works of art that endeavour to look at the trials and tribulations of ordinary citizens who find themselves in a situation where they have to resort to criminal activity, whether it is to make a living or purely because the opportunity to better themselves is presented and simply cannot be ignored. In the case of The Lavender Hill Mob, there is a very clear correlation between crime and social disorder, as Charles Cricthon’s bitingly funny satire, in which he collaborates with screenwriter T.E. B. Clarke (one of the great screenwriters working at the time, being responsible for terrific films such as Against the Wind and Passport to Pimlico) to tell this maniacal and brilliant story, examines the process and aftermath of a mild-mannered clerk deciding that he has found the perfect crime, which will inevitably pay off and bring him and his cohort a seemingly endless stream of wealth, or at least enough for him to retire comfortably. Naturally, as is the case with just about any comedy-of-errors around this era, nothing quite goes according to plan, leading to a series of misadventures that are as hilarious as they are revealing about the state of Great Britain at this particular point in time. Crichton, one of the finest filmmakers of his generation and the genius behind subversive masterpieces like Hue and Cry and A Fish Called Wanda, makes what is quite possibly his greatest film in the form of The Lavender Hill Mob, which remains one of the most bitingly funny and revealing satires ever produced, and a masterful examination of the human condition and the arbitrary conventions of social systems, carefully pieced together in a fascinating and outrageously funny comedy that pulls back the curtain on society and critiques and comments without even a moment’s hesitation.

One of the most substantial losses to the art of humour is the disbandment of Ealing Studios in the ERA, which signalled the end of one of the greatest production companies to ever work in European cinema. An Ealing comedy was a brand onto itself and could be instantly recognized through a variety of factors – snappy dialogue, bold visual gags and stories that seem simple in theory but reveal themselves to be far more complex in practice. You can recognize an Ealing comedy from quite a distance, as well as the countless attempts to replicate the success of those films. Yet, you could never possibly hope to achieve the same qualities, which is one of the many reasons why The Lavender Hill Mob has stood the test of test as perhaps the defining comedy from the studio (or at least on par with Kind Hearts and Coronets), since there is a particular quality, which exists in between the writing, the direction and the performances, that work together to create something unforgettable but also deeply original, at least in terms of the ideas that simmer beneath the surface. It mostly employs a layered approach to the comedy – a film like The Lavender Hill Mob blends slapstick humour (being filled to the brim with memorable sight gags, ranging from something as simple as a character driving a bicycle into a wall to a scene as monumental as an unforgettable chase down the stairs of the Eiffel Tower, one of the greatest sequences in the history of cinema) with clever wordplay and satirical jabs – Crichton and Clarke are not content with one-dimensional humour, and we see throughout this film that they approach the story from many different angles, aiming to draw out laughter from several sources, thus preventing it from ever being considered one-note or limited, which is integral to its overall identity as a film, and something that has stood the test of time.

There have been few actors that have single-handedly defined their entire national cinema during a particular period quite like Alec Guinness, who is undeniably one of the greatest actors to ever work in the medium, mostly because he was the rare example of someone present for the post-war burst in British cinema, remaining a prominent figure well into the 1980s, making him a bridge between eras. The Lavender Hill Mob is possibly his best performance (except maybe The Horse’s Mouth, his greatest collaboration with regular creative partner Ronald Neame), at least in terms of how it showcases him not merely as some off-the-wall eccentric, but as a genuinely captivating leading man. He is allowed to be as funny and zany as he desires in this film, but it is always grounded in a sense of authenticity that I imagine would be very difficult for many other actors to achieve. The role required someone who could find the right balance between comedy and drama – the dramatic scenes need to be delivered with a sense of wit, whereas the humour needs an almost melancholic quality, the oscillation between these extremes being part of the appeal that surrounds the film. He’s not alone in this endeavour, as he is joined by Stanley Holloway, who manages to be even better, playing the sidekick with a strong moral foundation extremely well, and proving to be a formidable partner for the always brilliant Guinness. A film like The Lavender Hill Mob is not always going to be primarily viewed as an acting showcase, but both leads (as well as a bevvy of supporting players) prove to be exceptional, grounding the film within a recognizable reality and bringing these complex characters to life.

However, the reason why The Lavender Hill Mob works so well is that it contains wacky performances and subversive comedic elements, but it is never bound by them to the point where it loses sight of the bigger subject. Much like nearly every Ealing comedy, this film has its foundation in something much more serious – we have to remember that Great Britain had just emerged from the most devastating war the world had ever seen to that date, and the dust of the Second World War had only just begun to settle when this film was conceived. The idea of economic despair and social unease were not just the foundation for the humour, but serious issues that many faced at the time. As arguably one of the keenest and observant social critics of his generation, Crichton was not oblivious to these issues (the image of schoolchildren playing amongst the ruins of London in Hue and Cry is one of the most striking of the period), but he was also not interested in heavy-handed depictions of suffering and despair. In many ways, making a comedy out of this material is not just an endeavour to entertain, but an act of rebellion by someone deeply committed to challenging conventions and proving how these stories can exist and should be told without any degree of censorship. Following a man who simply wants to retire comfortably, not even aiming to lead a life of luxury, but who has to resort to a life of crime to achieve something that should be the bare minimum for just about any citizen, is a very revealing and honestly scathing indictment on how Britain treated its subjects, essentially only facilitating their ability to lead mundane, uninteresting lives if they ever want to hope for the most marginally comfortable of existences. Of course, everything is very much heightened and ridiculous to the point of being outrageous, but the sharpness of the satire and its intentions are most certainly not lost in the process.

The Lavender Hill Mob is one of the greatest comedies ever made, and based on the affection it has been shown over the past seventy years, it seems like audiences, critics and the industry tend to agree, especially since we can see the roots of what would go on to become the foundation of a lot of British humour embedded in this film. Yet, it is not a film that can easily be viewed in only one way over another – there’s something brilliantly subversive about how it handles certain ideas, creating complex concepts while being consistently very funny, never wavering in its commitment to entertaining, but not wasting the opportunity to criticize social issues in a way that is bold and daring. There’s something peculiar, both narratively and tonally, about this film, which Crichton leans into as a director, drawing interesting correlations between the events on screen and some real-world subjects that essentially define this kind of story. It’s hilarious and heartfelt and features some of the very best performances of this decade, which are beautifully concealed within this film. It’s deeply unnerving when it needs to be, but for the most part, The Lavender Hill Mob is an absolute delight – there is a steady stream of jokes, each one hitting all the right notes and contributing to the general sense of humour that defines this film and makes it such a singularly brilliant, complex comedy that is more than just silly humour packaged into a film, but instead, one of the greatest satires ever made.