All Guiness, but pallid

I had a hard time sitting still for “The Horse’s Mouth” (1958) as Alec Guiness’s speech wandered between gravel and his usual mellifulousness. Paralleling the slide of his speech patterns, the scruffy, bitter central character kept slipping into the vicinity of sweet and genial. Neither Gulley's passion for art nor his passion for women comes across convincingly. Although Guiness's Gulley has some prison cunning, he is an inept con man, and totally incompetent at profitting from his art.

At least in the outdoor shots, the color cinematography is striking, probably the best of any British film of that era not directed by Michael Powell. I especially like the final scene of his barge unmoored and going out with the tide under the Tower Bridge. And I liked the mobilization of a team of aspring painters to do a mural on the wall of a condemned building near the end of the film. Gulley's release from prison at the beginning of the film promises a nastiness that is not thereafter delivered, but is fun for a brief while.

Kay Walsh’s performance as Coker seemed one-note to me, though Renée Houston is enjoyable as the wily Sarah. Guiness’s screenplay (which was nominated for an Academy Award despite — or because¿ — it prettified the harsher character from what was a famous novel during the 1950s) has flashes of wit, but no particular development of character and previous little plot.

Years and years ago, I read Joyce Cary’s novel (supposedly the portrait of the artist as a lout was based in part on Dylan Thomas). I remember liking the rawness of the grasping unusccessful artist and his bawdiness. Alas, these are missing from Guiness's screenplay and performance. I also very much like many of Guiness’s early comedy performances (as well as his range of characters in later mostly American films), but have to report that I was disappointed with his Gulley Jimson. Even worse, worst of all in fact, was Michael Gough as the sculptor who follows Gulley into a posh building while the tenants are away. If Kay Walsh was boringly one-note, Gough had no notes.