jamesraeburn2003 Scotland Yard's Detective Superintendent Hollarin (John Mills) arrives in the small town of Oakley Park to investigate the murder of a young girl called Molly Stevens whom was found strangled with a stocking in the grounds of an upmarket tennis club. Virtually the entire town falls under suspicion including her former boyfriend Peter Crowley (Alec McCowen) whom she deserted in favour of the club secretary Mark Roper (Derek Farr) who also had a reason for wanting her dead since he is a married man and he also got her pregnant. If that had come out he would have lost his job. The town's physician, Dr Fenner (Charles Coburn), is being blackmailed by Roper who knows that he left his practice in Canada when a wrong diagnosis resulted in one of his patients dying and his niece, Elizabeth (Barbara Bates), agreed to give Roper a false alibi in order to protect her uncle. In addition, the prominent Dixon family's daughter Fiona (Elizabeth Seal) was very friendly with Molly: they used to frequent a dubious nightclub which is facing an illegal gambling charge, get drunk and go joy riding with boys. This angered her father, Charles (Geoffrey Keen), who is a town councillor and is earmarked to become Oakley Park's Mayor and did not like the thought of his daughter keeping that kind of company. The police gradually close in on the murderer, but not before Fiona is killed while a dance is taking place at the club...As a straightforward murder mystery it is something of a let down because the identity of the killer is fairly obvious by about half way into the film's running time. Shame on the screenwriters Ken Hughes and Robert Westerby! Nevertheless, this mysteriously obscure little film is still well worth the watch thanks to strong realistic characterisations, vigorous direction by John Guillermin in what must have been one of his first 'A' features and excellent acting all round.John Mills offers a career best performance as the tough, dogged police superintendent who never plays by the rules and quite often finding himself in hot water with his superiors and the townsfolk who do not like his sometimes unorthodox methods and, above all, resent an outsider meddling in their affairs. Derek Farr, a familiar face of British cinema at that time, also stands out playing the dishonest and thoroughly dislikeable club secretary Mark Roper. In addition to his cheating on his wife and blackmailing the local doctor, he also lies about his war service in the RAF claiming to have been a distinguished fighter pilot yet Mills discovers he was only a lowly member of the ground crew who was dishonorably discharged for theft. There is an extremely effective scene where the Superintendent confronts him about this in quite an aggressive manner and we learn that the reason for his anger towards Roper was that his wife and child were killed during an air raid. And when he attempted to volunteer for the RAF himself, he was turned down and he resents anyone who lies about their war service like he did.The sense of small town distrust of outsiders is well conveyed and Guillermin opted to shoot the film in Weybridge, Surrey, England, which serves the plot very well. Basil Emmott, a lighting cameraman of prolific output whose work helped lift numerous 'B' pictures above the average, heightens the strong sense of place and the mysteriousness with his rich black and white camera-work. The suspense reaches fever pitch at the climax where Mills climbs up the steeple of a church to confront his killer who is threatening to commit suicide from throwing himself off the roof. The murder scenes are also very well done and are sufficient to send a chill down the spine even though the composer, Tristram Carey, opted to play a harpsichord over them predating the Margaret Rutherford Miss Marple films by a few years.

ianlouisiana With lust in their eyes,a group of men watch a nubile(not to say pleasingly plump) blonde playing genteel and wholesomely sexy tennis. Each of these will,in turn,be suspects when the unfortunate young woman gets murdered and Dept Supt Halloran from Scotland Yard - pause for a quick intake of breath - gets called in on the case. Messrs Derek Farr,Alec McCowen and Charles Coburn come immediately under his gaze,a Battle of Britain hero,a teenager(that alone was a crime in 1957 - believe me)and a doctor on the run from some sort of malpractice suit in Canada who has brought his niece along for company and so she can provide a little love interest for Supt Halloran. And here we have "Town on trial"'s greatest(and it has a few) weakness. No matter how much he leers,shouts and menaces,Mr John Mills is totally unconvincing as a tough Scotland Yard detective.He cajoles,he threatens,he lies,even,but he just doesn't cut it. Coppers in 1957 were big,bluff,Brylcreem tonsured men with broken noses and fists like hams who had cut their teeth on mean streets and didn't take any sh*t from anybody - indeed they were seldom offered it in a milieu where both sides of the law knew exactly where they stood. You murdered someone - you risked the rope.Halloran's suspects would all have known that. The thin veneer of respectability is stripped under the basilisk - like eye of Supt Halloran and eventually he gets his man,but not before another murder occurs. Tennis Club morals are vilified and the local teenage hangout,"The Hotspot"(it would probably be called "The 'G' Spot" nowadays) is shown as a den of mildly inappropriate behaviour("It's a rock and roll joint" says Harry Lock,amusing as a sartorially challenged detective). If you're in your seventies and want to remember when you wore a high - necked pullover and a tie to repair your motor - cycle and helmets were for Geoff Duke,you might find "Town on trial" diverting. If not it's a bit of social history that might be amusing.

writers_reign Once again it would seem that I watched an entirely different film to the majority of those who have posted here. The film I saw was a crude and horribly misguided attempt to play Hollywood at its own game and needless to say it turned out to be game, set and match, to Sunset Boulevard. John Mills fails hopelessly to convince as the (would be) tough talking maverick cop, complete with clichés such as pushing his trilby to the back of his head. The usual suspects who peopled British films in the 50s are wheeled out, Geoffrey Keen, Alec McCowan, Derek Farr, Dandy Nicols, supplemented for reasons best known to the producers, by Charles Coburn. There's a killer on the loose and the suspense of waiting for him/her to strike again constitutes a photo finish with watching paint dry. For an encore the killer climbs a church steeple and Mills goes up after him - this was done ten times better in Mine Own Executioner a decade earlier with Burgess Meredith following Keiron Moore to a roof. Moore failed to survive, would that Alec McCowan had followed suit.

philk-4 I come out somewhere between these two last verdicts. The plot had more holes than a chunk of gruyere, motivations I'd agree were distinctly shaky, and chemistry between Mills and Barbara Bates as the girl he falls for was notably lacking. (Love scenes have never exactly been Johnny Mills's forte, have they?) But as so often with British films of this vintage, the portrayal of a particular era and social milieu is fascinating, and the supporting performances include some gems. I liked Derek Farr's increasingly sweaty reactions as the bogus ex-officer running the social club as his own little harem; initially loathsome, but gradually becoming a pitiable figure as his carefully-constructed social persona crumbles about his ears. And Elizabeth Seal turns in a tour de force as the respectable mayor's daughter going determinedly to the bad. Her spirited, bottom-wiggling solo dance at the club was utterly wonderful.