Directed by Barry Norman's father Leslie, this account of the war's most heroic retreat suffers from the lack of ambition imposed on it by its somewhat limited resources. The flotilla sailing across the Channel is too darned small and no amount of newsreel footage can disguise the fact. Similarly the decision to focus on three plucky chaps deprives the action of its vast human scale.
Then there's Malcolm Arnold's wretchedly patriotic score which takes any emotional connection with the characters or situation and totally disjoints it to look more like a party election broadcast. A worthy testimonial, but too Baling.