John Mills (1908 - 2005)

In a long forgotten but once influential film magazine, there used to be a column called 'People We Like', which was devoted to a cinema personality that had won the affection of the editors. The criteria for selection may not have been very scientific, but of course that quality of being able to incite a liking in an audience, even if it can not be exactly explained, has always lain at the very heart of the cinema. If stars are 'figures of identification' - as a scientist might put it - then John Mills must be considered one of the most perfect examples of the phenomenon.

Mills' role in The Ghost Camera is small, but unforgettable. He holds the gaze, both male and female, of the audience. It was only his second appearance in the cinema. Like David Lean, who was the editor of this little-known Quota quickie, he was just starting out. Given the way that they would subsequently cross paths, there is a pleasing serendipity in the fact that not only were they the same age, but also Mills was playing a role that Lean could strongly identify with - a young photography enthusiast, whose camera captures the vital clues to a murder mystery. He was an obvious alter ego for the film-mad editor, who was destined to become as great a director in the British cinema as Mills would be a star.

After The Ghost Camera, the joint stepping stones in their careers were In Which We Serve (1942), This Happy Breed (1944), Great Expectations (1946), Hobson's Choice (1954) and Ryan's Daughter (1970), for which Mills won an Oscar. It was such a notable shared journey that any celebration of Lean's centenary should be considered a celebration of Mills' centenary too. Staunch, dependable, brave, quietly sensitive, always engaging, never flashy, he was Britain's favourite Everyman.

© Queen Mary, University of London