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Hall of Fame

MASON, James

masonHis stentorian bronchial tones have been the source material for a thousand shite after dinner impressions, but no matter, for his on-screen spectre remains undiminished by such drawing room frippery, and remains a mere slapped maiden or fireplace-aimed goblet away from decidedly unpleasant immortality. What he lacked in capacity for frivolous on-set hijinks he more than made up for in Brooding Malevolence (copyright Sight and Sound), and when you’ve got James Leamington, Humbert Humbert, Van Damm, Rommel (twice!) and those mighty Gainsboroughs under your belt, the odd duffer here and there (look folks, it’s The Water Babies from Brazil!) matters not one jot.

Hmm, what to choose? Be a bit saucy and pick Murder by Decree? Be a bit willfully obscure and plump for the London Nobody Knows? Be a bit clueless and go for Heaven Can Wait? Well, since we’ve used up our Gainsborough ration for this enterprise, it has to be – yes, enough with the ‘best booter!’ terrace chanting – that Bible-bashing patriarch in Spring and Port Wine.

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