Oh those madcap 1960s! Bliss it was to be young and alive in the decade that swung, with all the opportunities available to everyone, regardless of class and social and economic circumstances. Pity the older generation, stuck in its fuddy-duddy ways, born too soon to enjoy the brave new world of sexual liberation and easy affluence, not to mention groovy clothes.

On the face of it, this is the world presented in the 1963 film What A Crazy World, written by Alan Klein and produced and directed by Michael Carreras.

Studded with jaunty, music-hall type songs, the film focuses on Alf, a working-class East End boy played by Joe Brown. He is drifting, broke and unemployed, with an on-off girlfriend to whom he can’t commit. In the end, though, he makes it big time, with a hit record and a settled relationship with Marilyn, played by Susan Maughan.

The overall trajectory of the plot is upwards, the mood is bright and cheerful. But the film’s smooth surface slides into grittier areas which challenge its feelgood approach.

Pack up your troubles

Alf and his best friend Herbie (Marty Wilde) are part of a group of East End lads known as The Boys, who move in a pack, looking for trouble, girls and kicks. But they’re not threatening. We’re not talking West Side Story here. In fact, the opening seems like a parody of films about teenage gangs.

We see The Boys walking through the local market. The camera focuses on their legs, an angle which often serves to suggest menace. But these lads are not menacing, just troublemakers. There’s a bit of banter with a stallholder about a pair of bloomers, some backchat with older women, and a spot of winding up one of the regulars, not to mention a modicum of aggressive in-your-face apple crunching.

And so it continues as we follow them through their territory. They harrass the owner of the amusement arcade to get out of paying a few bob. There’s a fight scene, nicely choreographed, during which you feel pretty certain that no one’s going to pull a knife.

In fact, the fight is celebrated in the song Wasn’t It A Handsome Punch-Up, which hardly reeks of danger. In the dancehall scene they look to pull girls and dance to Freddie and the Dreamers. And in the dole office…

Labour and liberties

Ah, here we have it. The scene set in the Labour Exchange is uncomfortable, to say the least. Herbie and his mates think they’re being hard done by because so many new blokes are signing on and getting all the jobs. And who are these newcomers? Seemingly anyone who isn’t English, as is seen by the array of reductive stereotypes who queue up in their African and Arab attire, or their Chinese coolie hats, or their Tartan headgear.

The visual impact is reinforced by the lyrics of the song A Layabout’s Lament which complain that ‘they’re flocking in as if they own the place’ and ‘taking filthy diabolical liberties’ and so on.

This is an intriguing aspect of the film. Alan Klein’s songs are lively and catchy, and more reminiscent of George Formby than the beat groups of the early 1960s. But their lyrics reflect aspects of life which are at odds with their singalong, ukelele vibe.

Rough reality

Poverty, prison, anger, sexist attitudes, generational conflict, toxic (as we say now) relationships all dressed up in hummable tunes. The celebration of dog tracks and bingo and courting rituals and boozing is surface dressing. The reality is tougher and more complex.

In the Crazy World of the film, relationships are scratchy and complicated. Alf’s dad Sam (Harry H Corbett) dominates his family with threats and bullying behaviour, his depiction as an uncouth lout intensified by shots of his gross eating habits.

Going to the dogs

Sam has his own life outside the home, spending money he can’t afford at the dog track and seemingly regarded as one for the ladies. There are moments of affection between Alf and his mother Mary (Avis Bunnage) and younger brother (Michael Goodman), but Sam is driven by anger, frustration and resentment which he can’t control. Being a working-class Cockney ain’t all it’s cracked up to be.

There is a flicker of a more reflective side to Sam in the duet with Mary, Things We Never Had. The expression of poignancy and yearning is uncharacteristic and not that convincing, but it gives a foretaste of the pathos Harry H Corbett was to bring to his role as Harold Steptoe in the TV series Steptoe and Son.

The final scene of the film reinforces the impossibility of bridging the gap between parents and children when Alf presents his successful recording to the family. His moment of triumph is obliterated in a shower of rage, scorn and hostility.

Part of a theatrical and musical heritage

What A Crazy World taps into a tradition and context which is at variance with its presentation as a ‘bloomin’ kids, what are they like’ movie. It was originally a stage musical first performed in 1962 at Joan Littlewoood’s Theatre Workshop in Stratford.

It belongs with Fings Ain’t What They Used To Be and Sparrows Can’t Sing, with Anthony Newley, and The Small World Of Sammy Lee. It’s part of a musical heritage which includes The Kinks, the Small Faces, David Bowie, and Blur.

There’s a song in the stage musical which didn’t make it on to the screen. It’s called Striped Purple Shirt and it’s about a boy who’s really going places in his yellow braces and checkered coat and corduroy shirt and winklepicker shoes. He’s such a hit with the birds that he’s beaten up by a jealous boyfriend and his mates and winds up in hospital.

Now that didn’t happen to Ray Davies’ Dedicated Follower Of Fashion.