There is something about stepping into a small town that can be truly exhilarating. Whether returning home or visiting for the first time, many quaint hamlets have their charms and eccentricities and can be the location of some delightful adventures. This is the initial impetus behind Storm in a Teacup, a film directed by  Ian Dalrymple and Victor Saville (both terrific journeymen directors who work together well, the former making his directorial debut while the latter was a well-regarded filmmaker who began his career during the silent era), based on the German play Sturm im Wasserglas by Bruno Frank, which was also subjected to an English-language adaptation by James Bridie, from which this material was more heavily adapted. Telling the story of dual protagonists that travel to the small Scottish village of Baikie – one the daughter of the local mayor and the other a pernickety English journalist sent to the town to cover the political situation (which is oddly quite intense for such a small slice of the country) – the film examines their day-to-day routine over a few days, particularly around the mayor’s recent rise to power and his gradual descent into becoming something of an autocrat. A peculiar but fascinating little comedy that has a lot of heart and soul, but does miss the mark on more than one occasion, Storm in a Teacup is a fascinating curio of a film. Well-directed but also quite limited in its perspective, its not the best representation of the career of anyone involved, but it still manages to be a minor delight, at least in terms of how it navigates many narrative threads, weaving them together into a quaint and charming comedy about small-town life and the countless eccentric residents that tend to emerge when we venture into this tucked-away corners of any country.

Storm in a Teacup is a delightful film, but we actually find that the premise on which it was based is actually the weakest element of the entire story. The film was constructed initially as a love story between two individuals from different walks of life that somehow manage to work through their initial tension (caused by a charming but awkward meet-cute in the opening moments) to find a kindred spirit in one another, despite their clear differences. This is the aspect of the film that is most weak, for reasons we’ll outline further on. As a whole, the story attempts to examine the growing attraction between these two people, and it functions as a classic romantic comedy premise – an uptight heiress and a resourceful everyman somehow come to realize that they are made for one another, and manage to set aside the socially-mandated rules about who can be in love in order to finally realize that they are a perfect pair, in spite of their clear differences in personality. It isn’t a matter of the film not being compelling, but rather not doing anything particularly unique or revolutionary with this material – it has a solid foundation, but it seems singularly uninterested in exploring the relationship between these characters in a manner that is anything but slight and conventional, not really offering insights into their relationship and ultimately consistent pushing it to the background when the opportunity to explore some other fascinating element emerges, which takes up the majority of the artistic bandwidth. In many ways, this is actually ideal, since the romance is perhaps the least interesting part of the film, and the only reason to even mention it is based on how much of Storm in a Teacup promotes itself as some romantic comedy, when in reality its not nearly as captivating as other concepts embedded in the film.

Much of the focus on this film, both at the time and amongst contemporary conversations, draws attention to the pairing of Rex Harrison and Vivien Leigh, two of the most acclaimed actors to ever emerge from the English theatre, and who have both been consolidated into film history for different performances that are still beloved today. I have been famously agnostic towards Leigh, who I feel has been shoehorned into being represented by only two performances, namely Gone with the Wind and A Streetcar Named Desire, the former a terrific performance but the latter one a tic-heavy, overly-dour interpretation that has been overblown as some major achievement. Very rarely has her aptitude for comedic timing (which can be argued is even stronger than her dramatic skills) been discussed. Luckily, Storm in a Teacup was made at a time before she was burdened with the status as one of the greatest actors of her generation – a reputation that unfortunately played a part in her own personal struggles with fame and stardom throughout her life – but rather a delightful young ingénue with a seemingly interminable grit and an endless stream of moxie that made her a formidable screen presence. Harrison took on his first leading role, and while Leigh is still very good, this film ultimately belongs to him, solely because the narrative favours his perspective and he plays more a role in the eventual dramatic tension. They’re joined by several terrific supporting performances, such as Sara Allgood and Cecil Parker, both of whom were tremendous character actors whose screen presence ensured that they commanded the film, stealing every scene in which they appear. Despite being marketed as a vehicle for the two leads, Storm in a Teacup is actually a better achievement in terms of the supporting cast, who are the sources of so much of the humour and challenging social and cultural concepts that simmer beneath the surface of an otherwise simple film.

Based on the strength of the performances from most of the cast, Storm in a Teacup establishes itself as being much more intriguing than just a simple romantic comedy. The reason the film becomes so delightful is found in how it consistently draws our attention away from the central romance, which is stale and uninteresting at the best of times, and instead redirects it to the more eccentric and upbeat elements, which all relate to the exploration of this quaint town and its lovable residents. The performances, as mentioned above, are all terrific, and some of the best moments involve characters that exist on the periphery. It almost feels as if the material lent itself more to a twee comedy-of-errors that focus on the trials and tribulations of a small town, and that the film was forced to amplify the romantic plot as a way to market it to audiences, since it seems more logical to present this film as some compelling romance rather than a twee exploration of the differences between the urban and the pastoral, with the latter being subjected to the more positive perspective. Ultimately, this was a film produced between two of the most devastating wars in history, so it makes sense that it would try and focus on community more than anything else in its endeavour to be a piece of genuine escapism, but we actually find that there are many terrific aspects of this film that are slightly ahead of their time, especially in how it views subjects such as political corruption, governance and the importance of democracy. The third act is slightly heavy-handed and perhaps a bit too self-serious (the entire film as a whole is somewhat overwrought, but that is to be expected, considering how many layers are present throughout the film), but it final produce is nonetheless very special in a way that feels genuine and earnest, more so than just about any other approach that could have been taken with this material.

Storm in a Teacup is certainly not a film that ever seems to be playing in a major key, but this doesn’t prevent it from being delightfully funny and irreverent when necessary, which is essentially what the entire premise of the film intended to be from the start. It’s an elegant, unique comedy anchored by a fantastic cast, both in terms of the leads and the supporting players, and one that actually manages to be quite ahead of its time, although not in a manner that feels purposeful, but rather incidental based on how it presents certain concepts that were quite daring for the time, but have become commonplace in contemporary stories. It’s outrageously funny in some parts, and deeply heartfelt in others, and the oscillation between different moods can be slightly overwrought, but still makes for exceptionally compelling cinema, the kind that feels earnest and captivating, and which sets out to achieve something special. It may not always have the right tone present at the appropriate moment, but it makes up for this in terms of sheer gumption, particularly in the desire to offer something new and unique to a genre that wasn’t known for its originality at the time. The romance is not particularly effective, but the social satire that surrounds it is genuinely compelling, and we discover that there are many genuinely exciting merits to be found throughout the film, which proves to be much more endearing and enticing in practice than it seemed in theory.