The Walking Stick (1970)
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The Walking Stick (1970) is a period gem, one of those films, now discarded, more or less forgotten and fallen by the wayside- yet beautifully acted, subtle, intelligent and affecting. I discovered it, I think, on late night TCM, then tracked down a DVD on eBay, and I’ve just found the complete film on YouTube, although, as always, you never know how long that will stay there for. Based on the novel by Winston Graham (author of Marnie [1961], and, of course, the Poldark series), and directed by Eric Till, (previously a director of television drama) The Walking Stick is best described as a romantic drama, even thriller or gangland heist.
Deborah Dainton (Samantha Eggar) is a beautiful, if damaged, late twenty-something- a Christeby’s auction expert, crippled by polio- still living with her parents in a Georgian house in Hampstead. Leigh Hartley (David Hemmings), an aspiring artist with an uncertain past, is the love interest. Hemmings is brilliantly cast. He’s especially good in the role of likeable, if flawed, complex individuals: as Captain Nolan, the arrogant visionary in Tony Richardson’s The Charge of The Light Brigade (1968) and as Thomas, the cantankerous, independent photographer in Michelangelo Antonioni’s Blow-Up (1966).
Shot partly in the cobbled streets of Hampstead and the grimy, quasi-derelict docks at Blackwall Reach, The Walking Stick boasts a host of deeply nostalgic locations, including the antique shops of Old Beaconsfield- and nearby Hall Barn, used in the Country House auction scene. Interesting how Hampstead- London’s Montmartre- turns up repeatedly in the films of the 60s and early 70s. From the top of my head, I’m thinking Darling (1965), The Collector (1965)- also starring Samantha Eggar, Bunny Lake is Missing (1965), and, of course, the delightful short, Les Bicyclettes de Belsize (1968).
And there’s a touching opening sequence, filmed on the London Underground, somewhere deep in the bowls beneath Oxford Circus, with claustrophobic Deborah struggling to maintain her composure against the rush hour crowd. Till likes his close-ups, emphasising, I think, Deborah’s psychology as a disabled woman, with disturbing childhood flashbacks inside an iron lung. Samantha Eggar is at the height of her beauty; the camera adores her.
At the same time, The Walking Stick is a slice of vanished London, now gone, where the artworld collided with the criminal netherland, where the toffs of the Mayfair auction houses rubbed shoulders with dodgy King’s Road antique dealers and gangland villains. There’s oodles of early 70s lens flare, too- a backlit nirvana- a temple to soft-focus: for by the late 60s, technical advances allowed cinematographers to experiment with diffused light (a bit like the Impressionists); it was seen as more realistic, the grittiness- if that’s the right word- more in keeping with the 60s and 70s- a reaction to the rather slick, stylised look of old Hollywood Technicolor; although, of course, the soft-focus style lingers on until the early 80s- especially in advertising: think pretty girls in Panama Hats, hammocks and Monet’s Poppy Fields.
What else? Dudley Sutton (of Lovejoy fame) dances around a bonfire, people speak ‘proper’ and Francesca Annis makes an appearance as a nubile younger sister at a Hampstead party.
Mention The Deerhunter (1978) and the thing everybody remembers is the soundtrack: Stanley Myers’ haunting guitar solo, performed by John Williams. Except that it was originally written for The Walking Stick, some eight years earlier. Where it’s used to great effect. Not many people know that. And without giving too much away, the final scene with Deborah, sitting alone on a wooden bench in the middle of Park Lane- set to Cavatina- is genuinely moving. This one’s a weepie.
For those of us who love early 70s British cinema, The Walking Stick is what it’s all about: the sophisticated, subtle acting, the poignant understatement, the quality of the writing, the muddy, low-budget ‘look’, accentuated by lens flare and soft-focus- so at odds with today’s glossy, tinted visuals, where so often it’s more about the overall package than the writing. The Walking Stick (1970) is a delightful film- a worthy recommendation to add to the WEEKEND FLICKS. archive.
The Walking Stick (1970) is available on DVD (Warner Bros. Archive Collection. There’s also a recording currently showing on YouTube (the complete film)- although, as always, you never know how long this sort of thing might stay up there for. So hurry before it’s taken down.
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David Hemings and Samantha Eggar; the Brangelina of their day?
Always surprised by her relative lack of success, as she was a real beauty with acting chops to match.
And David Hemming’s physical change from then to barely recognisable as the same bloke around the time of Gladiator must be one of the biggest transformations in cinematic history…apart from Laurence Fishburne, who I still don’t believe is in Apocalypse Now…ha-ha!
On a side note, and as I’m new to your writings, have you covered 1971s SWALK (original title) but retitled as Melody, yet? Jack Wild reunited with Mark Lester at the tail-end of the sixties and beginning of the seventies. If you have, I’d love to read it.
And if not, when are you going to?
I know it and it's everything you said. Superb choice again.