Yet once he settles in,
he finds ways to connect, in particular with the enigmatic Conrad who has been
at the school longer than any of the other pupils and with whom he shares an
interest in running. When he agrees to help train the boy it develops into a
cross-country club in which increasing numbers of pupils partake seemingly
bringing a period of calm each day to the otherwise rambunctious place. Yet
Conrad’s troubled home life pulls him off the rails leading to his expulsion –
but as he has always promised on his last day, he will undertake a daring stunt
relating to the number forty-two.
The film’s backstory is
almost as unusual as its plot. The screenplay was written by Rod Woodruff
partly based on his father’s experience as a teacher as well as his own passion
for athletics. He was mainly a stuntman and doubled for Conrad in several scenes
of the film. I can’t think of another movie where the scriptwriter is also the
main stunt co-ordinator though in a career that spanned over thirty years this
was the only screenplay he wrote.
The film was shot in the autumn of 1993 in Great Stony School in Chipping Ongar, Essex (nowadays an arts and residential centre) taking advantage of being able to use the complete building which had actually been a real special school but had closed. The production was also able to use the luscious countryside around the building and set in the gorgeous autumnal sunshine it looks fabulous. Director Vadim Jean takes full advantage of the setting. Inside, he had filters on the camera lenses to give a warm vibrant glow trying to emphasise that this is a welcoming environment despite the pupil’s issues.
Outdoors his cameras bathe in the
golden fields using wide shots to capture the exuberance of running that is a
theme of the movie. “We run because we must” taken from a poem called `The Song
of the Ungirt Runners` by Charles Sorely becomes the story’s mantra. While much
of the production has an orchestral score, a key sequence is accompanied by the
Stereo MC’s `Step It Up` which fits perfectly with the upbeat mood of the cross
country. You have to marvel at the cast’s stamina. I know the running scenes
were likely nowhere near as lengthy as they seem but as someone who struggled
with cross country both kids and adults alike seem to cope well.
The teaching staff are
played by a lineup of familiar faces including James Bolam, Claire Skinner,
Nigel Planer, Art Malik, and John Alderton. Amusingly the characters names are
those given to them by the kids! Each have their moments though it is John Alderton
who steals the film. He plays the headmaster with a comedic lightness that is a
delight to watch reflecting the character’s experience. Basically, there is
little he hasn’t seen before. One wordless scene where he wonders why the
school building is empty is superb while his low-key reaction after a classroom
has been wrecked contrasts wonderfully with the mess he’s standing amongst. He
really does make the most of every scene he’s in. Of course, having starred in Please
Sir, he is familiar with anarchic classrooms. Art Malik makes an impression
too as the energetic Laney. Had the film more time it might have shown us more
of how Drake and Laney have alternative methods to much of the rest of the
staff. Laney is different from many of his colleagues in that he still has a
passion for the job whereas as we see in small snatches the others find ways to
alleviate the strains of the work for their own sanity.
Ian Hart plays Steve Drake- who becomes known to the kids as Gander- in an understated manner while his fumbling attempts towards another teacher Polly are endearingly awkward. Though the least well known of the cast at the time and brought in at the last-minute Catherine Russell easily matches her more experienced colleagues and the chemistry with Hart’s character works. Conrad is played by Ruaidhri Conroy, a then teenage Irish actor who is able to present a charismatic yet troubled boy. It’s an intense performance that he manages so well. As for the other kids they were all found in amateur dramas classes and throw themselves into their roles with enough fervour to be convincing. Its anarchic stuff for sure but it seems authentic.
The narrative is
divided into the three terms and sometimes seems to skip over the sort of
detail that might help deepen the movie with some events unresolved or forgotten.
While the bravado of Conrad’s promised finale is clear the rationale behind it
remains hazy especially as the plot has established that running is his thing.
There is an attempt to build a mystery around his obsession with the number
forty-two with occasional flash forwards to him wreathed in smoke and wearing
goggles which seem a little out of place in a film that strives for down to
earth images. So, the reveal that the number refers to stations between the
location and Brighton underwhelms slightly though its remarkable how the staff
cotton on to what he is planning.
Nonetheless the sequence (shot in just four days) is remarkably cinematic as Steve and Laney chase after a steam train atop which Conrad has jumped and is now riding presumably all the way to Brighton. Why we’re never sure but it definitely makes a memorable image which ended up being used to promote the film including the poster. In the end he’s forced to abandon his wild trip and makes a mistake that seems to cost him his life though its left open to interpretation. Has he simply escaped to somewhere else? Clockwork Mice is in the lineage of carefully curated British films that would probably baffle other markets and nowadays would likely be a low key film debuting on Netflix or some other streamer. Though having an unusual subject matter it emerges with aplomb and sincerity.
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