SIX MINUTES TO MIDNIGHT

THE FOUNDATIONS FOR A STRANGER-THAN-FICTION THRILLER ARE FRUSTRATINGLY UNDERMINED IN THIS WWII SPY DRAMA

Studio: Mad As Birds Director: Andy Goddard Released: Out now

An English school teeming with the daughters of Nazi high command and run by fiercely pro-german teachers with WWII looming ever closer sounds like the plot of an outlandish thriller. In fact, Augusta Victoria College (located in Bexhill-on-sea on the East Sussex coast) did indeed act as a type of finishing school for the children of some of Hitler’s most prominent cronies between 1932 and 1939. Sporting swastikas on their uniforms and attending classes led by adherents of the Nazis’ racist ideology, these girls occupied a world of right-arm salutes and fantastical propaganda. All of which would encourage a viewer to assume that Six Minutes To Midnight

(a title that refers to agent Thomas Miller’s secret government phone number: Whitehall 1154) will make for a tense, captivating watch. Unfortunately, such hopes turn out to be as realistic as Hitler’s dreams of invading Britain in 1940.

Eddie Izzard’s comedic prowess is beyond question, but ironically for a spy film his screenwriting debut doesn’t withstand much probing. Alongside Judi Dench (who plays the school’s pro-nazi headmistress, Miss Rocholl) and Jim Broadbent (relegated to the role of a cheerful bus driver), Izzard seems subdued in his role as Thomas Miller, a deliberate and totally appropriate lack of comedy denuding him of his usual zest. Dench (surprisingly) is equally lacklustre, while Broadbent’s many talents are wasted. Given that agent Miller, employed as a teacher, is tasked with not only uncovering the truth about the murder of his predecessor but then happens to stumble across a Nazi plot that could cost Britain a vital advantage in the coming war, the misuse of stars of this calibre is unforgivable.

As for the daughters and goddaughters of the Nazi leadership, they too feel largely overlooked, a bizarre approach given their apparent importance to the story. This serves the two unintended purposes of diminishing the sense of drama that Izzard was no doubt aiming for and preventing the viewer from drawing their own conclusions about the girls’ intentions. Are they innocent pawns in a lethal game of chess, or are they anti-british Nazi zealots all too aware of what is at stake? Neither Izzard nor the audience will ever know.

Over the course of 90 minutes a cast that initially promises so much find themselves trapped in a spluttering pseudo-spy film interspersed with moments of real menace, undone by dialogue that is often unwieldy. Even the sinister Miss Keller (Carla Juri), a swimming champion who narrowly missed out on the 1936 Berlin Olympics and now teaches PE and German at the school, can’t elevate this story above a middling WWII yarn that would almost certainly have worked better as a period drama on the BBC.

Six Minutes To Midnight’s one saving grace is the beautiful manner in which it was shot, with the audience treated to plenty of glimpses of the stunning Welsh countryside (the film was not actually shot in East Sussex) as Miller athletically flees various pursuers intent on bumping him off. One can only hope that Izzard is racing back into the warm and familiar embrace of comedy.