MAGNET contributing writer Jud Cost is sharing some of the wealth of classic films he’s been lucky enough to see over the past 40 years. Trolling the backwaters of cinema, he has worked up a list of more than 100 titles—from the ’20s through the ’80s—that you may have missed. A new selection, all currently available on DVD, appears every week.
O Lucky Man! (1973, 178 minutes)
Malcolm McDowell’s 1971 performance in A Clockwork Orange as Alex—the ultra-violent Droog in his bowler hat, eye shadow and leering grin—is so indelible it’s difficult to accept him as Mick Travis, neophyte salesman for Imperial Coffee. But once Travis has lapped up a mouthful of warm java from company mentor, Gloria Rowe (Rachel Roberts), and gently steered her willing body to the office carpet, the character begins to grow on you.
Blissfully unaware of the white-knuckled thrill ride he’s about to endure, Travis motors north in a company car full of coffee samples. Suddenly, he comes upon a horrific traffic accident in the fog-shrouded Yorkshire hill country. When two policemen arrive upon the scene, they make it quite clear to Travis that his help in this matter is not required.
“You the only witness?” asks the first cop (David Daker). “Yes, I saw it,” says Travis, badly shaken. “No need to detain the gentleman. We’ll be witnesses, save you the trouble,” says the second cop (Edward Peel). “I can give you a statement,” offers Travis. “Far as we’re concerned, there’s no one else involved, unless you give a statement,” says the first cop. “Then our chief constable might find you involved,” says the second cop. “He might bring charges against you, using us as witnesses,” adds the first cop. “So, scarper. On your way, chummy, unless you want booking for manslaughter,” says the second cop. The first cop, already loading packaged goods from the demolished vehicles into the police car, hands a parcel to Travis. “Here, fair do,” says the officer. “Fair do,” repeats Travis, returning to his car.
Now hopelessly lost, Travis comes upon a barbed-wire fence with warning signs attached, blocking his way. He climbs onto the roof of his car with binoculars and is immediately surrounded by two military vehicles full of British soldiers. “I want you on the ground before I count three!” barks their leader. A black hood is thrust over Travis’ head as he’s whisked away to an interrogation room.
“Now, Mr. Travis, who are you working for?” demands a veteran interrogator (Philip Stone). “Sign here.” “What is it?” asks Travis. “It’s your confession.” “But I haven’t done anything!” says Travis. Strapped into a chair, he’s hooked up to an electric current. “Three things you can be sure of,” warns the interrogator. “The pain won’t stop, you will remain conscious, and you will sign.”
Suddenly, all hell breaks loose. Sirens wail. His interrogator abruptly leaves the room, as does Travis after he’s unstrapped by the tea lady. Thick black smoke is everywhere. Travis runs up a steep hill toward his car. Three thundering explosions send fire cascading onto the vehicle just as he reaches it. The gas tank explodes, throwing Travis across the road and into a deep sleep.
