No Blade of Grass (1970)

Another one of those films I seem to recall turning up in ITV's late night schedules in the late seventies - when was I still deemed by my parents to be too young to be watching such material, No Blade of Grass (1970) represents an early entry in the dystopian genre that was to dominate science fiction films for much of the seventies.  Derived from John Christopher's 1956 novel 'The Death of Grass', the film opens by addressing the ecological concerns - growing pollution and its detrimental effects on nature - that were prevalent in the late sixties and seventies, (and which have become even more urgent in the present day), with its montage of black smoke belching industries, clogged rives and dying wildlife, accompanied by a hectoring narration.  Striking though these images might be, (not to mention depressing), they feel as if they are shoving the film's message in the audience's face in the crudest and most obvious way.  But a lack of subtlety isn't the most fundamental problem with these opening shots - the real problem is that they are only tenuously linked with the film's main plot device: the emergence of a new virus which attacks and kills all species of grass, destroying the world's crops and creating the threat of a global famine.  While the prologue's narration certainly implies a connection between the virus and pollution, no causal link is actually established, leaving the whole environmental themes feeling as if it has been shoe-horned into the film, in a cynical attempt to exploit contemporary concerns about pollution.

The pollution theme, though, quickly takes a back seat, as the film quickly settles down into a more action-orientated format as it chronicles one middle class family's attempts to escape the chaos and anarchy engulfing the UK as central authority collapses in the face of impending famine.  Led by Nigel Davenport's eyepatch sporting civil engineer, the Custance family - his wife, teenaged daughter and family friend and would be boyfriend to the daughter - flee London and head for his brother's remote farm in a secluded Lake District valley, stopping along the way to pick up their son and his friend from their private school.  As they go along they pick up various followers, most notably gun expert and borderline psychopath Pirrie and his wife.  While effects of pollution on the environment still get alluded to as the protagonists encounter polluted rivers and dead livestock and wildlife on their journey North, the film's emphasis is now firmly on the fight for survival.  Food riots in London, army road blocks as the government tries to restrict travel, vigilante groups protecting local communities and biker gangs all provide hazards for the travellers to overcome.  The father's reaction is to become ever more ruthless himself in his mission to protect his family.  Backed up by Pirrie, (but to the horror of Roger, the would be boyfriend), he cold-bloodedly guns down several soldiers at a roadblock, guns down a farmer and his wife in order to steal their food and guns and takes revenge on a group of bikers who have abducted and raped the wife and daughter.  While the film attempts to make a moral distinction between the father - who, despite being ex-military professes to hate killing and justifies his actions on the basis of necessity - and Pirrie, who clearly derives pleasure from using his gun, always looking for opportunities to open fire, it also makes clear that, regardless of motivation, the results are always the same.

Its portrayal of the way in which order can quickly breakdown in such a crisis and that swift, decisive action is required of the individual in order to survive such events, is probably the film's greatest strength.  Arguably, it presents too bleak a view of humanity, with people all too ready to revert to their most animalistic instincts in order to survive, but it does try and draw a distinction between those who simply seize upon such a situation in order to indulge their basest desires - the motor cycle gangs, the rioters and Pirrie, for instance - and those who try and organise for collective self preservation - the vigilantes protecting the village who take the travellers' cars and guns, the brother and his people on the farm and the father and his group, for example.  The film also takes a cynical, but effective, view of governments in their response to an apocalyptic situation - despite having condemned the communist regime in China for having deployed nerve gas against its own people in attempt to reduce its population to a level that food supplies can support, the democraically elected British government subsequently has no qualms about sending the RAF to bomb Leeds in the face of food riots there.  In short, it paints a grim picture of how the world might respond to a global crisis, with accepted civilised values quickly going out of the window.

But while Davenport's character, throughout the film, criticises the government for its heavy handed approach, he himself realises that once the catastrophe is upon us, personal survival relies upon throwing away his family's middle class values, along with their comfortable middle class lifestyle.  Similar themes had previously been explored in AIP's Panic in Year Zero (1962), in which a family escaping a nuclear attack on LOs Angeles takes to the hills under the leadership of an increasingly ruthless and militant father (played by Ray Milland).  There are many similarities between the two films, (both, incidentally, directed by actors: Ray Milland in the case of the earlier film, Cornel Wilde in the case of No Blade of Grass), with a teenaged daughter suffering rape in both and a boyfriend who has to overcome his scruples over the use of violence.  No Blade of Grass, though, ups the brutality quotient considerably, with the violence and the rapes graphically portrayed - the various shootings are bloody and unpleasant, the rapes harrowing and deeply disturbing, (particularly that of the daughter, who was portrayed by a fifteen year old Lynn Frederick, which resulted in the scene being heavily edited in many prints).   Little is left to the imagination.  Criticised at the time of release for being merely exploitative, the graphic nature of these scenes is simply part and parcel of the film's relentless hammering home of its theme that the veneer of civilisation is, in reality, wafer thin and easily stripped away.

Which, of course, is a recurrent theme of Wilde's other films as director, with their repeated motif of the need for strong masculine leadership in the face of crisis.  But whereas those other films, like Beach Red (1967), The Naked Prey (1965) and Sword of Lancelot (1963), portray central characters who, while able to set aside their civilised values in order to survive, yet still retain a core of humanity that they can reassert once the crisis has passed, No Blade of Grass feels far bleaker in its outlook.  While Davenport's character might eventually succeed in leading his family to safety, there is no guarantee of any return to 'civilised values' for anyone: the world has changed irrevocably, with no prospect of a 'reset'.  While the film might be highly effective in its portrayal of a catastrophic social breakdown, unusually so for its era, in fact, it still perpetuates a number of stereotypes.  The portrayal of the female characters, for instance, is notable, with them being largely passive, (their 'feminine' values, doubtless, making it impossible for them to be as ruthless and relentless as is required in the post-apocalyptic world), while sexually they are either virginal and innocent (the daughter), or predatory and shameless (like Pirrie's wife).  The notion that the daughter, following her rape ordeal, gravitates toward the aggressive Pirrie, believing that he can protect her and rejecting the gentler, intellectual and only reluctantly violent Roger, is also a somewhat sexist, not to mention highly dubious idea.  (Indeed, the fact that a girl previously brutalised by a gang of violent and immoral men should find a similar character in any way attractive, might be seen as an attempt to argue that she actually enjoyed her ordeal to the extent that she now seeks a protector similar to her attackers).

Social class also rears its head - not only is the virginal girl nice and middle class, while the promiscuous woman is working class, but all of the class relationships portrayed in the film are similarly conventional.  There is an assumption that the middle classes - being more civilised in the first place - will naturally assume leadership roles, with the working classes (who were obviously of low morals even before the collapse of civilisation), meekly following.  Well, those that aren't rioting, forming gangs of motor cycle riding rapists and brigands or, in the case of the army, shooting their officers and deserting.  Ordinary working class types though, like the group Davenport encounters and takes charge of, will acquiesce to the leadership of any authoritative sounding middle class type they meet along the way.  (It is notable that working class man who originally leads this latter group is quickly gunned down by Pirrie when he dares to challenge Davenport's overtures of leadership).  The class divide is also clear amongst the main characters: the reluctant killers, the father and Roger, are middle class professionals, while the more psychopathic Pirrie is a working class manual worker and ex-con.  (One gets the impression that the girl's parent's initial objections to her relationship with Pirrie have more to do with he fact that he is working class and didn't go to the right schools, than it has the fact that he is a murderous bastard).  At the film's conclusion you can't help but suspect that any new order set up on the farm by the father will be strictly along traditional class lines, with those working class types he picked up effectively reduced to serfdom.

Despite its many flaws, No Blade of Grass remains a fascinating film and is well worth watching.  For one thing, although a little rough around the edges, it has excellent production values and is superbly shot.  Filmed mainly on some very chilly looking Lake district locations, (it was filmed in the Spring of 1970), the frequently bloody action plays out against the ruggedly beautiful landscapes, providing an effective, if not very subtle, contrast between the destructive activities of man and the stately beauty of nature.  The film is made more effective by its focus on the more personal and intimate details of the apocalypse, rather than trying to show the wider picture of martial law, mass starvation in the cities and the bombing of civilian populations.  As already alluded to, subtlety isn't director Cornel Wilde's strong point, with the film's messages all to clear and hammered home relentlessly by the on screen action.  That said, the action itself is extremely well staged, in particular the pitched battle with the motorcycle gang and the climactic shoot out.  Ultimately, though, the sheer brutality of these sequences, while undoubtedly realistic, succeeded in alienating many critics and viewers, perhaps accounting for the fact that No Blade of Grass remains far less well known than it should be.  Deeply flawed, it is nonetheless a frequently exciting and always thought-provoking film.