London in the Raw (1964)

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London in the Raw (1964)

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London in the Raw is a sensationalist 1964 flick, looking at life in the heart of the city, night clubs, strip clubs, beatniks, meths drinkers - you get the idea. Plenty of add-ons too, with shorts from the era and a hefty booklet full of essays and background information.

London In The Raw Review By Jon Fortgang

Arnold L Miller's mondo-style documentary steps through the clubs, clip-joints, bars and dives of early 1960 London in this very English example of exploitica, restored and released by the BFI as part their 'Flipside' strand.
'The world's greatest city laid bare!' bellowed the tagline to Arnold L Miller's 1964 pseudo-documentary London In The Raw. 'Be shocked by the sin in its shadows.'

In truth you'd need to be of an extraordinarily sensitive disposition to find much in this semi-staged, would-be salacious exposé very alarming. Though the title and the tagline suggest the naked truth about the city's sleazy fleshpots, London In The Raw follows time-honoured tradition and sells the sizzle, not the steak. Less focussed even than its companion piece Primitive London from 1965, what Miller's film does offer is an intriguing little window onto the tensions between that mythical city Swinging London, and the prosaic reality for the dancers, drinkers, workers, and punters all hankering after a little late night action.

Opening with a West End comedian's observation that if John Profumo couldn't sink the Tories nothing will, Miller's film wanders off in several directions at once. After a mystifying stop-off at Harrow public school, there's a disapproving trip to a betting shop, a peep in on a Soho prostitute and a warning about the area's perilous clip joints - non-licensed clubs where punters are fleeced of their cash by girls who promise a little something later on. There's the first of several visits to a restaurant where Miller is awed and enthralled by the Persian belly dancers. Then it's on to a basement where beret-wearing beatniks draw naked girls. "Eat a little, dance a little, sketch your naked girlfriend and dream of better things to come," runs the narration - a line begging to be sampled by any skinny-legged English indie band.

Like Primitive London, David Gell's narration warns that there's nothing quite as expensive as a cheap thrill. That attitude may be a little rich, given that the film trades shamelessly on the thing it purports to expose, but 40 years on and even the hypocrisy looks rather quaint. London In The Raw's roots lie in the 'mondo'-style documentary - a cheerfully cynical hybrid of eye-popping revelation and awkward theatricality. Ironically, it's the implausibly staged sequences which now provide some of the kitsch appeal, but even without them Miller's film is a fascinating historical document. There's a spot of cinema history unfolding here too. Executive producer Tony Tenser would subsequently found Tigon, the British company that produced Miller's The Witchfinder General and which subsequently gave Hammer a run for its money. The BFI's release of London In The Raw comes with two other priceless period pieces. The best of these is a short documentary called 'Chelsea Bridge Boys', a half-hour documentary about the lives of a gang of London bikers. It's a more straightforward enterprise than Miller's main feature, and for anyone in search of some real social history, it's far more enlightening as the kids discuss their attitudes to religion, politics and the future. "What do you think of society?" ask filmmakers Staffan Lamm and Peter Davies. "Okay," says one kid, flower power and punk rock still to come. "As long as it don't bother me."

Also here is 'Pub', another short doco about life in and around The Approach Tavern near Victoria Park in London's Hackney. Once again, it's a modest slice-of-life piece which makes no great claims to artistry, but it's a valuable little snapshot of the ordinary men and women for whom the boozer is the community's heart.

Finally we come to 'Strip', a half-hour documentary shot at a club called The Phoenix on Old Compton Street in Soho. Here is the harsh reality which Miller's film daren't confront. Presented fly-on-the-wall style without narration, it records the girls' unselfconscious conversations about the hardships of the job, the flickering porno showing down in the basement and the domestic difficulties that go with a life spent undressing for cash. A smoky, beer-stained, unpretentious report from the early days of the sex industry, it's an intimate chronicle of the real naked city.
Verdict
A lovingly put together package by the BFI and a mine for social and cinematic historians.

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London in the Raw (1964)

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