D: Val Guest. S: Peter R. Newman. P: Michael Carreras. Cast: Stanley Baker, Leo McKern, Philip Ahn, Guy Rolfe, Gordon Jackson, Percy Herbert, Bryan Forbes. UK dist (DVD): Sony.

Decent enough wartime drama hampered by self-conscious worthiness and a rather heavy-handed approach to its central moral paradox. Conceived by Hammer as a hasty apology for their critically-mauled (but highly popular) “Jap war atrocities” exposé The Camp on Blood Island (1958), Yesterday’s Enemy is a brave attempt to explore the moral implications of Total War, and the essential hypocrisies of the Geneva Convention. Val Guest directs with his customary vigour, though the film is painfully hobbled by its studio-bound setting; despite designer Bernard Robinson’s best efforts, Twickenham will never be confused for the Burmese jungle. Though handsomely shot in stark monochrome by Jack Asher, the wide Megascope framing is helpless to prevent the production from seeming uncomfortably cramped and small-scale. A studied artificiality replaces the intended gritty realism, and this inauthentic backdrop only serves to amplify the contrived qualities in Peter R. Newman’s script (adapting his own acclaimed BBC play). Still, the cast – drawn from the best of late Fifties British talent – is excellent, and the decision to eschew the triteness of traditional martial scoring in favour of a musique concrète of buzzing insects and assorted jungle fauna lends the production a refreshing sobriety.

The film begins well, with a rag-tag group of British soldiers led by their respected, no-nonsense Captain Langford (Stanley Baker) stumbling upon a small Burmese village, having fought through unforgiving jungle for days. They wipe out the small unit of Japanese soldiers holding the village, capturing in the process a man whom Langford suspects of collaborating with the Japanese. The man protests his innocence, though Langford is convinced he possesses knowledge of Japanese plans to launch a major offensive. Hardened by years of combat, and exhausted by the strain of command, Langford makes a ruthless and fateful decision: to force the man into surrendering his information, he orders two innocent villagers to be executed. The informer reveals the Japanese attack plans in full, though his belated candour is not enough to spare him. Langford is grimly determined to get this information to HQ; but when his men are captured by enemy forces after a brief firefight, Langford’s equally ruthless Japanese counterpart (Philip Ahn) promises to kill his men one by one unless Langford tells what he knows about the attack plans…

And so a rather didactic role-reversal begins, with the remainder of the film laboriously plonking the boot squarely on the other foot. Langford, somewhat predictably, tries to employ all the moral arguments he had previously waved aside when his decision to execute the villagers was condemned by the newspaperman (Leo McKern) and padre (Guy Rolfe) whom the author has nominated as a combined mouthpiece for civilised values. In fairness, the issues are valid and interestingly expressed, to a point; but when the film simply begins to repeat itself, all subtlety is abandoned and the downbeat conclusion becomes merely an exasperating inevitability rather than a heartfelt tragedy. Yesterday’s Enemy is full of good intentions, and contains a couple of tense action sequences, uniformly fine character work (from the likes of Gordon Jackson, Percy Herbert and Bryan Forbes) and solid direction. But, sad to say, it’s also pretty dull and contrived, and must ultimately be judged a disappointment – particularly by the standards of director Val Guest’s other work during this period. Well, at least Hammer got a BAFTA nomination out of it: the first and only time the production company would enjoy such a flirtation with respectability, though I imagine the boxoffice receipts for The Camp on Blood Island meant more to James Carreras.

Sony UK has released Yesterday’s Enemy in a fine 2.35:1 anamorphic transfer, practically flawless save for an intermittent (and almost imperceptible) buzz which occasionally troubles the soundtrack. The package includes a 24-page booklet written by Hammer historian Marcus Hearn, imparting much background info on this little-seen production. Fans of the studio, and of British war films of the period, should certainly seek this one out.