Please don't spend money on this.

Absolutely amazing

The best films of this genre always show a path and provide a takeaway for being a better person.

Great movie. Not sure what people expected but I found it highly entertaining.

Somerset Maugham once made this observation about poverty: "You will hear people say that poverty is the best spur to the artist. They have never felt the iron of it in their flesh. They do not know how mean it makes you. It exposes you to endless humiliation, it cuts your wings, it eats into your soul like a cancer."The spirit of what he said pervades this disturbing film. No doubt this work would have to resonate more in Britain, but even 50-years later, unemployment, abandonment of the elderly, and welfare subsistence are fairly universal maladies of the Western World."The Whisperers" is not a comfortable experience. A disturbed old woman, Mrs Ross (Edith Evans), who lives alone is slowly losing her grip on reality, she lives in impoverished circumstances and is dependent on welfare. When she accidentally comes into a little money, she is preyed on like a wounded animal in the jungle. Even her son, Charlie (Ronald Fraser), and her estranged husband, Archie (Eric Portman), take advantage of her.This is more than a performance by Edith Evans; when it's over, you believe Mrs Ross existed.She lives in a society where ruthless opportunists abound. However, the story is not devoid of decent people; her young neighbour and especially the understanding Mr Conrad (Gerald Sim) at the welfare office redeem what would be a very jaundiced look at modern life.Bryan Forbes was a man of many talents: actor, writer and director, but this film would have to be at the pinnacle of his achievements. The film boasts brilliant photography and real locations. You can almost smell the rising damp and cheap tobacco, and feel the mud splattered on your shoes - not to mention the edge of the cut-throat razors in one disturbing scene; powerful imagery in the impressive tradition of British 'kitchen sink dramas'.The film has a score by John Barry. Although I didn't see this film until 50 years after it was made, I knew the theme far earlier from a Barry compilation album, and always wanted to see the film it went with. This was before Barry settled into that languid style when many of his scores seemed interchangeable. During the 60's and 70's he was the one of the most experimental composers. He used a harpsichord here in a small-scale work, which suited the poignancy and bleakness of the story.Although dramatised, the film shows a slice of modern life, but from a rather dispassionate point-of-view; it hits home all the more because of it.

What a treat that this amazing classic has been released on DVD at last. It came out in 2010 as one of the initial trial batch of unjustly ignored old MGM-owned titles (it was a Lopert Production) which have been released as MGM Limited Edition titles by the CreateSpace division of American Amazon (not yet available in Britain despite being a British film). (The other most important title issued at the same time is Sidney Lumet's THE GROUP.) Every serious student of acting should order this film immediately in order to study the mind-blowing performance of Dame Edith Evans as the lead character, Margaret Ross, aged 76. Edith Evans herself was the antithesis of this character, but she throws her own personality overboard and drowns it dead as a dodo, to transform herself as if by magic into this person. Rarely has a screen impersonation been so complete that one feels it goes down not just to the bone but to the marrow. To say that Edith Evans (1888-1976) could act the socks off all comers is an understatement, one only has to admit simply that when it comes to mastery of her profession, no one can touch her. She was a genius. It is astonishing that she did not receive an Oscar for this film, although she was nominated for one but she did receive the 1968 BAFTA award for it, as well as the Golden Globe in America, the New York Film Critics Circle Award (an award which was at its most prestigious in the 1960s), and the Berlin Silver Bear Best Actress award. So at least she did not go unappreciated at the time, though the film has tended to be forgotten since. The film was written and directed by Bryan Forbes, and inevitably has his wife Nanette Newman in it in a small part. Forbes is not normally noted as one of the giants of the cinema, but in this instance he really delivered. Only three years earlier he had drearily depressed everyone with a very boring film, SÉANCE ON A WET AFTERNOON (1964), which was also shot by Gerry Turpin, who was the cinematographer on this. Turpin's black and white lighting camera work is so spectacular in this film that it also should have won an Oscar. It is absolutely inspired. Various old timers deliver fine supporting performances in the film, chiefly Eric Portman as Evans's callous drunken husband whom she has not seen for twenty years, but also Gerald Sim as a welfare officer and Ronnie Fraser as Evans's ne'er-do-well son, and there is a hair-raising performance as a wicked scheming woman by Avis Bunnage. The story and main character are pathetic in the extreme. The film is largely a poignant study of the extreme loneliness, isolation, and cruel victimisation of the elderly. Goodness knows where Forbes got this idea from, but it seems deeply personal somehow. Did he have a great-aunt like this, one wonders. The film is far from cheerful. It is bleak and disturbing, and tells the kind of story which is often called 'deeply human'. It is sad and also frankly heart-breaking because of the pathos aroused by Evans's portrayal of the woman. The film is set up north somewhere, but evidently not very far north, for Manchester is mentioned in the credits. It seems that the vast stretches of desolation, the hundreds of acres of demolished terrace houses, and the eerie emptiness of the strange place where Evans lives in a flat on the ground floor of a crumbling house must have been Manchester as it was being demolished in 1966 to make way for the new high-rise buildings. What was once a depressing two-dimensional world was transformed into an even more depressing three-dimensional world in the sky, but we do not see the future results of all the devastation in this film, we merely see the flattened beginnings of it. It looks as if the whole city has been bombed by the Nazis, but in this case the Nazis appear to have had large relentless treads and gone under the name of bulldozers. I suppose the desolation of the setting was meant to evoke the desolation of Evan's loneliness. So there is plenty to be depressed about, if you are that way inclined. The story is a simple one in its way. Evans is an abandoned old lady who hears voices ('the whisperers') and talks to invisible presences. But at other times, she has her dignity and speaks in what is known in England as 'a good voice', which ruffles the feathers of all the lower orders no end. It seems that she was the daughter of a bishop who married a chauffeur and came down in the world. As she puts it in a voice over, 'I married beneath me'. We see some flashbacks of her as a child on the stairs watching the grownups at a grand party in the bishop's palace. Her pretensions of being a bishop's daughter are derided by a civil servant, who claims she was just a cleaning woman in a bishop's palace once. But in that case, how did she come by her infallibly upper class manners and accent, which are not an affectation? What is so astonishing about Evans is the way she throws herself into every word and every mood as if she were a World Champion diver, never missing a twirl of her personality as she plunges into the abyss of otherness. This really is something, it really really is. (Did I say too many really's?) It's the real thing all right.

This grim tale about the loneliness and vulnerability of old age, set in what must be the most rundown section of Manchester, manages to touch us in an unsentimental manner. Its chief quality is the crisply photographed slum in which it largely takes place, like the last remains of the 19th century surviving into the post-War 20th. The protagonist, Margaret Ross, played by the stately Edith Evans, lives in a cluttered ground floor flat in this urban wasteland of rain-slicked cobblestone streets without cars or pedestrians, but an abundance of crumbling brick walls, gutted buildings and stray cats. The opening credit sequence of grey rooftops under rainy skies is particularly striking.At home she looks through newspapers, eats bread with honey, sips tea and listens to radio as her sink faucet drips, drips, drips. She constantly hears voices (the "whisperers" of the title) and turns up the radio to drown them out. When the upstairs neighbors, an interracial couple with an infant, pound on the floor in protest, she pounds back on the ceiling with a broomstick and is showered with bits of plaster. (We see the bald patch from where the plaster has fallen but the absence of other patches means that she has never before banged on the ceiling; this strand of the story would have been more convincing if more of the ceiling was similarly defaced.) When not talking to the imagined voices, she spends her solitary life visiting the library where she surreptitiously warms her feet on the heating pipes, collecting welfare from a local government office where she makes frequent references to her good breeding and high-class family connections, listening to sermons at a local evangelical storefront chapel, and tending to household chores which seem to consist mostly of emptying large quantities of dust, coal ashes and bottles and cans from which she derives most of her nourishment.Evans brings dignity to the role but somehow she does not seem to be the right actress for the part. Margaret Ross is a woman of humble origins. Evans is a thoroughbred. True, she does claim that she married beneath herself, but that would be putting it mildly. Still, she has the acting skills to keep us entertained, and she gets brilliant support from the secondary players: Eric Portman as her surly husband, Avis Bunnage as a predatory welfare mom and Gerald Sim as a welfare clerk add a great deal to the overall presentation. Leonard Rossiter, too, shows up for a strong few minutes as a government official. And John Barry supplies a melancholy but unobtrusive musical score.Evans got an Oscar nomination for this performance. Fair enough. But I think Gerry Turpin should have also gotten one for his beautiful cinematography.

Dame Edith Evans, one of the British theater's greatest actresses of the first half of the twentieth century, gives a brilliant performance as a lonely old lady existing in seedy rented rooms in a grimy industrial town while scraping by on National Assistance. This film should be shown to everyone on their first day of work, before they fill out their tax deferred pension withholdings. If ever there was a good lesson for putting something away for one's old age, it is this film. It is a horror story of "This is what's going to happen to you if you don't start putting something aside for your old age."Mrs. Ross lives alone in poverty despite a family of sorts, a work-shy husband who deserted her and a son who only comes by to hide stolen loot while pretending to visit. Her rooms are a disorderly clutter of books, old newspapers, glass bottles and anything she doesn't want to throw away. Her endless days are filled with visits to the local library reading room, to keep warm; the local mission church; the police station, to complain about the neighbors; and the social security office, to beg for more public assistance; which is doled out a few shillings at a time. To escape this grim reality Mrs. Ross builds a fantasy world not unlike Luis in "Kiss of the Spider Woman". She exists in her fantasy of a privileged upbringing as the daughter of a Bishop, living in a palace, and watching the white gloved dancers at a ball. She awaits the settling of her fantasy father's estate and the fortune from the family cattle business. When she finds stolen money hidden by her shiftless son during a quick visit, she believes that her ship has finally come home and her fantasies are reality. It is not long before the vulnerable old lady is "befriended" and robbed by a steely eyed con woman, and dumped in an alley near her home. Although the welfare people do all they can to get her back on her feet and her husband to take care of her, by the film's end she has come full circle and has resumed her daily routine and her fantasy world.Dame Edith, who was the original "St. Joan" on stage in the 1920's, and for whom Shaw wrote "The Millionairess" is rarely off the screen and gives a faultless performance in what could otherwise be a very depressing film about poverty and loneliness. Where at first you sympathise with the old lady who has come down in the world and is now living in genteel poverty, you come to understand that she never went up in the first place, the only genteel world she ever inhabited was in her mind, and that is where she now resides.As for an acting tour de force, just watching the way Dame Edith conveys the lowly origins of Mrs. Ross without words, as in the way she eats - out of tins - lifting large slices of bread to her mouth (where they fall apart) rather than cutting the slice to small manageable portions, licking her fingers, reading at the table - all the things considered to be bad manners. The way she conveys old tired poverty, by slipping off her shoes in the library to warm her feet on the hot pipes, is a lesson in technique that all aspiring actors should take note of. You know as you watch her slowly make her way down the cobbled streets carrying her large tote bag that this pathetic old lady is a prime target for a mugging, or a slip and fall. I would recommend this film to anyone who wants to study great acting and to those who are concerned with the plight of the elderly.