The Mudlark

No one likes an historical drama more than the present writer, but he will not brook films that are dull and boring. Jean Negulesco's The Mudlark (1950) is a case in point. This pedestrian and forgettable drama can't work up interest in its thin story, though some of its actors try.

It's 1875, and Queen Victoria (Irene Dunne) has spent over a decade mourning the death of her beloved Prince Albert. A dirt-smeared waif named Wheeler (Andrew Ray) finds a locket with her picture and decides to pay "the Mother of all England" a visit. Wheeler infiltrates Windsor Castle and unwittingly sparks a political incident, accused of heading an Irish conspiracy against the Queen. Devious Prime Minister Benjamin Disraeli (Alec Guinness) seizes the incident to advance his political agenda - and to bring Victoria out of hiding.

The Mudlark shows how not to make a period piece. The plot is a trifle, and the intertwining of Wheeler's whimsical misadventures, Victoria's grief and Disraeli's political machinations doesn't come off at all. Nunnally Johnson provides lots of silted dialogue, with several stupid subplots and useless side characters further diluting the drama. The film doesn't even look good, Negulesco providing drab black-and-white and rote period art direction. Everything is just too shallow and uninvolving for the emotional payoff to work.

Irene Dunne plays Victoria as a wax dummy, showing little emotion even in the pits of her widowed anguish. Andrew Ray went on to a respectable career, but there's nothing here to distinguish him from a dozen other child actors. Dashing soldier Anthony Steel and servant girl Beatrice Campbell (Last Holiday) enact a trite forbidden romance that just pads out the runtime.

Two actors stand out. Alec Guinness made this film in between Ealing comedies, clearly relishing his shot at a meaty dramatic role. Late in the film Guinness gives an impassioned, six-minute speech to Parliament, an impressive sequence that momentarily enlivens things. Then there's Finlay Currie (Billy Liar) as Victoria's manservant John Brown, investing his part with energy and wit everyone else lacks. These two pros try their best to inject some life into the show, but face an uphill battle.

The Mudlark is a real headscratcher. Who thought that this silly story was substantial enough to hang a 99-minute film around? The overall reaction is one big "Who cares?"