Clegg (film)
1970 British film by Lindsay Shonteff
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
Clegg (also known as The Bullet Machine, Clegg Private Eye and Harry and the Hookers) is a 1970 British crime film directed by Lindsay Shonteff and starring Gilbert Wynne[1][2] in his first starring film role. It was written by Lewis J. Hagleton.[3]
_2.png)
Norman Claridge
Gilly Grant
| Clegg | |
|---|---|
U.K. theatrical release poster | |
| Directed by | Lindsay Shonteff |
| Written by | Lewis J. Hagleton |
| Produced by | Lindsay Shonteff (credited as Lewis J. Force) |
| Starring | Gilbert Wynne Norman Claridge Gilly Grant |
| Cinematography | John C. Taylor |
| Edited by | Jackson Bowdell |
| Music by | Paul Ferris |
Production company | Lindsay Shonteff Film Productions |
| Distributed by | Tigon Films |
Release date |
|
Running time | 85 minutes |
| Country | United Kingdom |
| Language | English |
Plot
Ex-policeman and now private detective Harry Clegg is hired by wealthy businessman Lord Cruickshank to investigate a death-threat letter he has received, which leads to a string of murders, some by Clegg himself.
Cast
- Gilbert Wynne as Harry Clegg
- Norman Claridge as Lord Cruickshank
- Gilly Grant as Suzy the slag
- Gary Hope as Wildman
- Ronald Leigh-Hunt as Inspector Kert
- Michael Nightingale as Col. Sullivan
- A. J. Brown as Joseph Valentine
- Noel Davis as manager
- Margery Mason as neighbour
- Sue Bond as panties girl
Production
The film was shot in various locations around London including the Docklands and Highgate Cemetery, as well as in Paris.[citation needed]
Shonteff said in an interview: "It was made for peanuts [and] my blood ...The final budget was [$26,500 American] for a colour 35mm feature, which meant making a lot of tough deals, paying people very little money, and shooting in four weeks. But we finished it and the picture did okay."[4]
Critical reception
The Monthly Film Bulletin wrote: "A pathetic attempt to transplant the private eye thriller to the British scene, high on violence and low on style. The hero's attempts to deliver his sub-Chandlerian wisecracks with the weary cynicism of a Philip Marlowe are merely embarrassing, while Lindsay Shonteff's idea of direction seems to be to squeeze in as many massive close-ups of guns, telephones and osculating lips as possible. 'It happens in all the Bogart movies,' says Clegg at one point: the trouble is that there it happens so much better."[5]