In the British tradition of the Chase & Pursuit drama, there are several reoccurring themes. The idea of a lone individual being chased through different landscapes by a group was popularised in Britain by the Second World War but was around far before then. The basic set-up has an individual wanted for some crime or misdemeanour (sometimes falsely). They are pursued by various parties, from the law who believe they are guilty, to the genuine guilty party that want an innocent individual silenced.

The most interesting aspect of this sub-genre in its British guise, however, is the varied relationship between the individual (after they have initially escaped a more urban environment) and the rural landscape used for concealment.

Often such landscapes appear late in the narrative and after the initial crime has been committed. Most importantly, the main character on the run will have used up all of their available means in urban areas, often realising that, through the betrayal of suspecting locals to the relevant authorities, built-up places are not safe if they wish to remain free.

It is at this point where characters so often find themselves in hills, pastures and mountains; a last desperate attempt to avoid their pursuers by using dangerous elements of landscape to aid them in their bid for freedom.

One of the earliest examples of this drama in film is Anthony Asquith’s A Cottage on Dartmoor (1929), but already the genre has done something unexpected. The narrative happens in flashback and follows a hapless barber who, in a fit of jealous rage attacks the lover of a woman he has fallen for, only to be sent to prison. The film follows his escape from Dartmoor Prison into the valleys of the emotionally bleak landscape as he attempts to get to the lonely cottage where a couple now reside.

Apart from the fact that the character on the run is actually guilty of his crime, A Cottage on Dartmoor shows an opposite of the norms for landscapes in the form later on. The landscape is the undoing of Joe (Uno Henning) but through his own choice of course. The couple have forgiven him for what he did and try to help him to escape but ultimately fail.

Knowing that any attempt to get back to the cottage will result in the police killing him, he deliberately chooses his death; broken hearted and defeated upon the lonely moors. For an example of how this would work in a more typical scenario, think of Pip in Dickens’ Great Expectations successfully aiding and abetting escaped prisoner Abel Magwitch through the moody Essex marshes.

In later films (albeit adapted from earlier novels), the landscape would become a refuge for the weary fugitive, often enabling their escape as well as providing vital information; the enemy also seems to reside in rural landscapes, as if they too take advantage of the terrain.

In 1915, John Buchan wrote the spy thriller The 39 Steps. This was later popularised and amended with modern themes by Alfred Hitchcock in 1935, producing perhaps the most typical and entertaining of Chase & Pursuit dramas.

Richard Hannay (Robert Donat) has been falsely accused of murder after accidently becoming involved in a ring of industrial espionage. The hapless but resourceful Hannay is pursued through towns, cities and railways by both the police, who want him in connection to the murder, and the gang of spies who want him because he has too much information to be allowed to live. Eventually, after being caught variously, he escapes into the highlands of Scotland where a supposed friendly agent lives.

Hitchcock creates a stunning backdrop out of these highlands using a mixture of atmospheric studio recordings and some rare early location filming for the director as well. It would be a trait he would continue to utilise, most famously in North by Northwest (1959), albeit in vivid Technicolor. Such was the strength of Hitchcock’s filming in those segments in the Highlands that they also came to define the varied later screen adaptations of Buchan’s story, in particular Ralph Thomas’ version in 1955.

More importantly is the narrative use of this landscape. In spite of it being essential for Hannay to traverse, it feels like a natural conclusion to the mystery of the spies, at least for the main character. The locale is also where he finally convinces someone that he is telling the truth, albeit in warm confines of a remote Highland hotel.

The film is famous for its silhouettes of figures on the skyline, and these moments show when the landscape briefly betrays the character. Once back into the rock and gneiss, however, Hannay is untraceable and only returns to the clutches of his enemies when he enters the home of the main villain whom he mistakes for an ally.

Mixing both the guiltiness of Asquith’s film with the hidden landscapes of Hitchcock’s, Charles Crichton’s Hunted (1952, sometimes known as The Stranger In Between) tells a very mixed tale of pursuit; where the danger of the urban environment becomes part of the narrative. Dirk Bogarde plays Chris, a jealous husband who has just murdered the man who was seeing his wife behind his back (echoing A Cottage on Dartmoor). Upon committing the murder in a deserted warehouse, he discovers that a boy has seen him and abducts him for fear of being given away.

Quickly, it becomes clear that the young boy, Robbie (Jon Whiteley), was also running away from an adoptive, abusive household so was only too glad to be taken. Though Chris tries various urban areas for solace, his luck runs out and he instead jumps a train that takes them to the hilly areas of the north and eventually to Scotland (again).

It becomes a challenge to traverse the area itself (after all, Robbie is very young) but, in a different way to The 39 Steps, the landscape does offer refuge from the pursuers. Even when they eventually escape to a sparsely inhabited fishing town in order to steal a boat, the partly rural location provides enough safety for the pair to almost get away with it. As it turns out, it is only Robbie’s oncoming illness that actually scuppers Chris’ bid for freedom.

The final film to mention (but by no means the last of this kind) is Rogue Male (1977) by Clive Donner. The film was made for television and adapted from the 1939 novel by Geoffrey Household which is as much a key text in the movement as Buchan’s novel.

Following the narrative of Sir Robert Hunter (Peter O’Toole), Rogue Male documents Hunter’s failed attempt at killing Hitler (played by Grange Hill regular Michael Sheard), and then his subsequent escape back to England from Austria after being initially caught, tortured and chased by the Gestapo.

Originally made for cinema, albeit to much less effect by Fritz Lang, under the title of Man Hunt (1941), Rogue Male subverts several of the landscape norms established more widely in the genre.

The main character’s problems first occur within the rural landscape as opposed to an urban one, contrary to his plans. When Hunter eventually does seek somewhere to hide, he chooses the hills of south Dorset where, unlike the other films’ characters, he sets up camp; literally digging himself an underground site to live in with his adoptive cat, Amadeus.

The landscape is subverted again when he is eventually caught by the Gestapo; the place becoming what could be a tomb. Luckily, Hunter is more resourceful than his Nazi counterpart and eventually comes through thanks to a make-shift weapon, though is clearly grateful to the landscape for help in his initial subterfuge and success in escaping.

While this is only a general overview, from these films alone it can be seen that the relationship is more complex than simply a dose of aesthetic interest. The rural locations are not simply an excuse to break up the urban monotony but essential to the structure of the films.

Circumstance changes the way these narratives portray such landscapes and hints towards the complexity within these realms that, on a surface reading, may seem to take their rocks and craggy pathways for granted, but are really far off the beaten track of more regular film settings.