Lilliput Magazine, November 1949 - AT THE CINEMA: ‘LANDFALL’

 By Nigel Bennett

Meet The Real Men Behind The

New Wave Of ‘War’ Movies

 

Whilst women (and even some men) will swoon over Michael Denison in this neat little adaption of Nevil Shute’s ‘Landfall’, this correspondent has decided to focus on men who make a movie really fly.

No, not the director, nor the producer. There are far less visible members of a production team that increasingly play a critical role in delivering that more and more frequent visitor to our screens – the ‘war movie’.

‘Landfall’ is a basic tale of romance between a coastal RAF pilot and a down-to-earth but ingeniously nosy barmaid. He is accused of bombing the wrong boat. She stumbles into her own investigation about what really happened. So far so hum-drum.

Now meet John Woolride and Peter Shure: one who has provided the raw material for the film, the other who organised the machines that add a more substantial and realistic atmosphere than the film probably deserves.

We find the two men at a bar just off Piccadilly, where I’m standing them a few rounds of drinks, so they might spill the beans about what each of them has brought to the film.

“We just told them what we know,” says Shure.

Both men are modest about their achievements, not just in film but also in life. When it comes to wartime experiences, Woolride and Shure are the real deal. Both men are RAF veterans: Woolride completed over 80 bombing missions as a pilot. Shure flew 45 raids as a flight engineer before he was shot down and spent the rest of the war in a prison camp.

Woolride is the taller, with public school manners and tidy appearance complete with military-issue moustache. Shure is stocky, clean-shaven with the hint of the barrow-boy about him. Both men are manly, forthright and cheerful. In short, good company. In the Piccadilly bar they exude the steady presence that comes with years of mess room bonhomie and the mastering of one’s nerves in a tight spot.

“I suppose I fancied myself as a bit of a writer, having rattled off a memoir at the end of the war. It felt important to have a record of some sort,” says Woolride.

Fully decorated for his troubles – DCO, DFC & Bar, DFM – Woolride signed up for ‘Landfall’ originally as a paid advisor, keeping an eye on the technical detail of the plane- and airfield- related scenes (of which there are many). Very quickly he was giving input on how the characters might behave more credibly,  and how an actual RAF investigation would have played out at the time. This involved significant changes to the script, and before he knew it Woolride had become a writer, albeit with no screen credit as yet.

“I’ll admit I’ve been bitten by the bug. I’m helping on two more screenplays for Associated British already, and I’ve got my own ideas for an original story based on my own wartime experiences,” says Woolride.

Undecorated Peter Shure (“they don’t give medals for falling out of planes and sitting it out in a camp”) is part-owner of a garage not that far from Brooklands and is a whizz when it comes to all aspects of souping up motor cars for racing. As a something of a sideline he started sourcing older vintage cars needed for period films. In the case of ‘Landfall’ he found himself one day dropping off an ageing MG to Elstree and making sure it behaved whilst Michael Dennison either sat in in it or drove around looking suave.

Shure too became more involved in the film due to his knowledge and experience of not just cars, but also planes and wartime flying.

“I was cheeky enough to point out to Ken, the director, that he’d got some details wrong. He was very decent about me putting my oar in, invited me down the pub at the end of the day and we became good pals,” says Shure.

Obviously a clubbable character, Shure also happened to be able to teach one of the actors the basics of playing a piano accordian. In the end, Shure was responsible for supplying all the cars, trucks and lorries for the film, ensuring they look just right for the period. Alongside Woolride he also advised on how to recreate accurately the inside of an Avro Anson aeroplane and teach the actors how to behave like proper airmen.

“I didn’t realise films sets were such friendly easy-going places,” says Shure.

“Although it can get tense sometimes if they’re just not getting the scene right and the light’s going,” adds Woolride, sounding more and more like a director himself.

What’s clear is that both men have realised they have valuable knowledge and experience to bring to films such as ‘Landfall’. It depicts a world that already seems so distant, even though it was only a very few years ago, and thus it requires people with good memories and lived experience to be working on the production

 ‘Landfall’ reminds us about the kind of society we thought we were fighting for – decent, prosperous, peaceful, fairer. We are, perhaps, still far away from that idea.

But at least men like John Woolride and Peter Shure are starting to get a fair crack of the whip when it comes to being recognised for their hard work and bravery.

And also they have happily managed to gain a passport into a glamorous industry that in the past might well have been completely closed to them. One supposes that could be called progress!