The Fallen idol

As a Baby Boomer, I grew up loving all things British. Music, movies, television, novels...you name it. Old or new, it was all good. I think the Brits lost their luster for me after the punk scene. Nothing outstanding has come from them since. Not that anything outstanding has come from the USA either, although I think our movies and TV are better these days.

I Netflixed a great oldie recently called The Fallen Idol. I put it in the queue cuz it won the 1948 British equivalent of the Oscar for Best Picture.

It stars Ralph Richardson as a diplomat's butler, who gets in trouble with the cops and is seen mostly through the eyes of the diplomat's son who adores Richardson. With groovy twists and turns, gorgeous sets and photography, it's one of those great soggy old British movies from that black and white post-War/pre-Carnaby Street period. I love that era. When a man would come home to his pipe, BBC radio, a crossword puzzle and a cuppa.

And it's directed by Carol Reed, who followed it up with The Third Man. Nice run, Mr. Reed.