Strangely I’d never heard of The Blockhouse (1973) before, given its setting and themes which are definitely in my interests, so I’m pleased to have crossed paths with this blu ray. I’m reviewing a promo disc so there’s no booklet, but, having purchased releases from Powerhouse before, I’m confident it will be well-designed and informative. 

The Blockhouse is based on a book, which was in turn based on real events during WWII; in fact, these events are quite incredible and dwarf the film itself. So, the plot, briefly laid out, concerns a group of Allied prisoners held in a German POW camp in June 1944, who take shelter in a bunker during a Spitfire raid and then become trapped as the bunker exits collapse; the film documents their lives underground. After the initial hellish descent into the darkness, punctuated by explosions and debris, the seven prisoners attune themselves to their plight before becoming giddy with the new freedom they can actually enjoy, separated from the prison regime. This euphoria is exaggerated by their discovery of food and wine stores, which they gorge themselves on, and this sets up a pattern that the film largely follows: a slow descending resignation punctuated by moments of ecstatic joy and hollowing misery. I won’t spoil the ending but I will point to the fact that the film’s distributors insisted on a less bleak ending, and thus the blu ray contains a distributed version and a director's cut.

The film stars Peter Sellers, Peter Vaughan, and Charles Aznavour, and this is the first time I’ve ever seen Sellers in a straight role, a role in which he very much excels. All the actors perform proficiently, however to some extent they are upstaged by the setting, which is a character in its own right, arguably playing the dominant role in the film. To be precise, practically the entirety of The Blockhouse takes place underground, filmed in an old WWII bunker network in Guernsey, and thus the film is dark and claustrophobic. This, depending on your viewpoint, is a help, a hindrance, or possibly simultaneously both. The filming conditions mean that The Blockhouse is overwhelmingly murky, and also cramped, traits magnified by the decision to use candlelight as much as possible - not lighting equipment - and resulting in lots of close up shots. So the film has a definite intensity in this regard, which may repel or attract. At the same time, the intensity is tempered by the fact that a lot of the film is spent watching people waiting, and that, guided by its own narrative logic, it drifts and somewhat peters out. Despite a conceit involving candle burning times, and the characters discussing the topic, the film doesn’t track the passing of time too well (the prisoners remain trapped for seven years…); in its defence, its determined naturalism makes this a very difficult task to portray, and again this does mean we experience events as the characters on screen experience them. However, it would be fair to say that there is little narrative as such, and indeed not a great sense of individual characterisation, but I think these criticisms shatter against the overall tone and feeling of the film, which is its great accomplishment. As stated before, the film feels like a long downward slope with intermittent bursts of joy and horror: Vaughan’s character going slowly mad and then dying in the dark, screaming over a blank screen, Jeremy Kemp’s character singing the hymn ’Oh come let us adore Him’ with tears streaming down his face - genuinely affecting, visceral stuff, and indeed the opening combat and bunker collapsing scenes are strongly effective and chaotic.

In terms of extras there are interviews with: Leon Lissek, one of the actors, who recalls the mould that grew on items left in the damp bunker tunnels, plus the injections that the crew and ensemble had every week for their health; Gilda and Fred Rees, the widow and son of the director Clive Rees, who recall the funding problems the film had, as well as how awkward Sellers could be on set; producer Kent Walkins, who is charming and very interesting; production manager Matthew Raymond, who details his quest to secure a Spitfire for the opening scene; electrician Peter Bloor, who gives an illuminating view of the film from the viewpoint of the crew. The sense gained from all these is that the film was a real struggle to make, spending all day deep underground in damp, dark tunnels in genuinely unpleasant if not unhealthy conditions; however, everyone involved acquitted themselves with professionalism and a group spirit, and created a film that they remain proud of, a film which has technical limitations in picture and sound quality, but an undeniable intensity. The extras are complimented with a short 1945 documentary detailing the German occupation of the Channel Islands, a definite weak spot in my historical knowledge and something I’d be interested in knowing more about.

This won’t be a film for everyone, but it’s definitely a neglected gem. Even for a ‘war film’ it’s incredibly visceral, and the restrictive set and small cast make for a genuinely claustrophobic, disorientating, experience. The presence of Sellers is impressive but despite his French accent this is not a fun film, and nor should it be, as the original story is so thoroughly grim. All of the extras really bring the film to life, and I imagine the booklet adds even more context and detail. I also think The Blockhouse is a film with plenty of rewatch value, and one that will improve with multiple viewings. Recommended.