John LeMesurier later recalled this as both the happiest and the saddest film he ever made. Happy because filming in Bognor was such a pleasure; sad because of the untimely deaths soon afterwards of several of the cast, LeMesurier citing Mario Fabrizi, Walter Hudd and, of course, Tony Hancock himself. (Although Sylvia Syms happily is still with us; her stock as an actress having risen considerably in recent years.)

While it's glossier, brasher predecessor 'The Rebel' had been the boxoffice hit - and more than half a century after Hancock's death remains the better-known of his two big screen vehicles - Hancock himself had dismissed it as "a fake thing". Despite 'The Punch and Judy Man's dismal boxoffice performance and mauling by the critics (which makes it still more melancholy to contemplate),Hancock felt a special affection for it and it's stature is assured for those that care.

Beautifully photographed by veteran cameraman Gilbert Taylor for Hancock's own company MacConkey productions. It's obvious everybody involved cared about the film; perhaps a bit too much, since the straining after effects is a bit too obvious. But you haven't lived till you've dropped into The Igloo for a Piltdown Delight.

I suspect that director Jeremy Summers is a TV man, and sure enough I see that he has done a substantial amount of work for television. You can always tell these guys because few of them realize that pacing in a movie has to be much faster than the deadly slow pacing on the boob tube. That is why, despite endorsements from critics who should know better, The Punch and Judy Man just isn't very funny. Undoubtedly, despite the film's publicity trappings, some of the sequences were not intended to be humorous, but even many of those that are, manage to misfire. They tend to come across as damp squibs, or they are simply too drawn out to become highlights of hilarity. We see far too much of Tony Hancock anyway, but fortunately there are some agreeable contributions by Sylvia Syms, Ronald Fraser, Hugh Lloyd and the ever reliable John Le Mesurier (pronounced "Messer-ah").

A seaside Punch and Judy Show operator despises the pompous people who are on the council. His wife is a social climber, however, and arranges for the P&J show to be featured at a civic event, putting him in a difficult situation.

Tony Hancock, riding high on the back of a TV sitcom based on a specific characterisation of him as a sad but pompous loser and featuring classic scripts by Galton and Simpson, moves into feature films with something altogether angrier and more dour, into which he had considerable creative input.

It didn't do well. It didn't help that the undoubtedly highly talented Hancock was descending into alcoholism.

There are a couple of sequences which are driven by sound editing rather than dialogue - breakfast and ice cream parlour - but they leave one a bit puzzled as to what they were intended to achieve. The antagonism between Hancock and the ice cream man, for instance, would be more understandable if they weren't essentially in the same supplicatory position towards the bigwigs.

One can understand why it didn't hit the mark.