39. A Man for All Seasons (1966)

Plot Intro

England, the early 1500s. Hot-tempered and insecure King Henry VIII (Robert Shaw) wants to divorce his wife, Queen Catherine, and marry the notorious Anne Boleyn (Vanessa Redgrave). But with England being a Catholic state, he must obtain permission from the Pope- who refuses. In retaliation, Henry makes one of the most controversial moves of any English monarch, and severs ties with the Vatican, naming himself Supreme Head of the Church of England. While sycophantic and ambitious courtiers scrabble to propose their allegiance to him in this matter, one man, Sir Thomas More (Paul Scofield), remains conspicuously silent. And the King is furious…

Paul says...

The film opens with static shots of stone gargoyles, dragons, lions and other grotesques, suggesting menace and savagery. The camera reveals these stone beasts to be the adornments of the most majestic of palaces, Hampton Court - beautiful on the outset but full of the teeth and claws of the Royal Court. Then, the opening music begins, a combination of serene melodies and harsh chords, mirroring the dual nature of the palace and the people lurking within. God, I love this film.

If you want cinematic proof that you don’t need big musical numbers, gargantuan crowd scenes or controversial topics to win the Best Picture Oscar, then this is it. A Man For All Seasons is a quiet, ponderous, thoughtful piece about the battle between keeping one’s integrity and keeping one’s head attached to one’s shoulders in the face of huge political change and an unsympathetic King. Sir Thomas More is certainly portrayed as a hero here, and the film skirts away from the fact that, being a staunch 16th-century Catholic, he would have quite happily burnt Protestants, witches and maybe even Jews at the stake. But this is not a film designed to show real history. Rather, it’s designed to ask what would you do if suddenly your superiors, who could cut you down very easily, decide to change the world in a way that is abhorrent to you (in this case, forego all Catholic loyalties, and loot and burn the monasteries) and ask for your open allegiance on pain of death. You can easily transfer these themes to the rise of Nazi Germany in that people had to openly praise the Nazi atrocities or find themselves mysteriously disappearing, or to any other dictatorial state. You could even make a parallel with the culture changes of the '60s, in which youth and sexuality were all the rage, much to the horror of the older, more conservative, generation- but perhaps I’m clutching at straws here.

Deep analyses aside, this is a very thought-provoking film that boasts a script which is noticeably sparky and memorable without being too wordy, and some acting that would make Meryl Streep jealous. Paul Scofield carries the film, portraying More as calm, consistent and unendingly stubborn. He’s a brooding, gravel-voiced, monolith of a man and it is easy to see why he nabbed the Best Actor Oscar for this. He’s supported by a terrifying Robert Shaw as Henry VIII, a slimy Leo McKern as Cromwell, a bitter Orson Welles as Wolsey, a snivelling John Hurt as Richard Rich and a strong-willed Wendy Hiller as Alice More. All of them work together to maintain nuance and subtlety, but it’s impossible to keep your eyes off them.

This is not a film for everyone, however. If you are clueless about Tudor history then I wouldn’t start with this- there is an expectation that you at least know who Thomas More, Cardinal Wolsey, Catherine of Aragon and all the other major players in this period were, and without that you’d be lost. It’s also very talky and lacking in action. This is a film that demands its audience to listen to complex speeches about why we should “give the Devil benefit of law” or More’s final courtroom rampage against the treacherous Court. It’s taken me several viewings and readings of Robert Bolt’s original play to fully understand it. And the film is so quiet and understated that it’s easy to drift off if The Sound of Music is more to your liking.

But I love the delicacy and intelligence of this film. Fred Zinneman’s minimalist direction in which the camera barely moves gives the false sense that the actors are doing all the work. But then minor directorial touches such as the opening images of the gargoyles mentioned before, the changes in weather, the background behaviour of King Henry’s terrified companions and the surprising brevity and lack of ceremony in the execution scene- all of these create a film that feels real and absorbing. A crowning achievement of the ‘60s.

Highlight

The scene in which More is interrogated by Cromwell, Norfolk and Cranmer is tense, crafty and uses dialogue to draw a climax rather than explosions.

Lowlight

The film could be more accessible for people less educated about this period of history- there are moments where it becomes too esoteric for universal appeal.

Mark

9/10

Doug says...

Paul loves these type of slow-moving, historical word-driven pieces more than me - there’s a BBC series from the ‘70s focusing on Elizabeth I which I found often dusty and overwritten, but he adores it. So it was with a little wariness I approached this film that he so often raves about. 

But I’m happy to say in this instance he was right. It’s a starry cast - but more importantly it’s a talented cast. The great Orson Welles is only in it for all of ten minutes but he makes his mark as the grotesque, corrupt priest Wolsey, while Wendy Hiller delivers a remarkable slow-burn of a performance as More’s wife Alice, starting as a stoic stay-at-home wife and ending in a horrible, emotional scene where she screams at her doomed husband and at the powers that destroyed him. 

And actually, journeys seem to make up a great deal of this film. Obviously the main one is More himself, as he moves from respected official to despised ‘heretic’, but also that of his wife Alice as above - and then perhaps the most interesting one which is of Richard Rich (John Hurt, in a terribly ‘60s interpretation of a Tudor haircut). He goes from More’s acquaintance and his friend to ultimately betraying him in the search for power. A voiceover at the end of the film gives snippets of information as to what happened after the film’s events, and we are informed Richard Rich died in his bed. But the film’s arguments suggest that this may not be the happy ending Richard would have hoped for. 

Because what this film weighs up is the choice between making a practical decision that benefits you now versus one that will later affect you when you die and have to go to heaven or hell. Obviously as a modern atheist, I was yelling at the screen ‘just say you agree with all of them!’ but the film makes it clear that Thomas More was convinced if he submitted now then he would face his God with shame. 

One of the utter highlights of this film for me is Robert Shaw as Henry VIII. He rivals Paul Schofield as More for me, delivering a Henry VIII who is clearly bipolar, switching from merriment to anger in a heartbeat, and then back again. He’s vicious, unpleasant and yet terribly charismatic and you see the people around him draw in despite their fear. It’s a stunning and unique interpretation and one that should be more influential on how Henry has been perceived by modern audiences than I think it is. 

Of course Paul Schofield is the centre of the film and he carries it well. He’s at his weakest when doing any scene without a speech, because that’s when he comes alive. It’s in the court/trial scenes where he really comes alive - and thus so does the film. As Paul points out, the scene where he is interrogated by Cromwell, Cranmer and Norfolk is exceptional, with More dancing a tightrope of avoiding perjuring himself. Scenes like that are when this film takes flight and leaves the viewer in a state of tension. 

It’s a very good film - and one should probably state again that it’s entirely biased, and that many records suggest that More was far less honourable than this film would make out. But it’s not a film about this period really, it’s actually about at what point should one abandon morals in order to save yourself, and what will be the ultimate reward or punishment for that? You might die in your bed after a life of treachery, but if there is an afterlife, you’re probably screwed.

Highlight

Paul Schofield doing pretty much any of the dozen or so speeches. He is an actor who knows how to deliver these moments - clips I’ve seen of him in Amadeus and King Lear show this was clearly his forte. Fabulous writing, remarkable delivery. 

Lowlight

Vanessa Redgrave pops up for a silent cameo as Anne Boleyn. I don’t particularly love her anyway, but it’s a poor performance and she seems to think baring her teeth passes for acting. 

Mark

8/10

38. The Sound of Music (1965)

Plot Intro

Austria, the late ’30s. Young aspiring nun, Maria (Julie Andrews) struggles to unite her quiet, disciplined life as a nun with her unyielding desire to run singing through the mountains. So the Mother Abbess (Peggy Wood) sends her away to be a governess for the seven motherless children of Captain Von Trapp (Christopher Plummer). Little does she know that the Von Trapps are actually lizard people in disguise, bent on world domination. Maria must summon her team of ninja-skilled nuns to do battle, or they will all become evil, man-eating reptilians.

Doug says...

The Sound of Music is a glittering shape-shifter of a film. It has the obvious appeal for children: great songs and choreography, heroes (Maria, the Abbess, the Children) and villains (the Baroness, the Nazis) and a tense finale where the Von Trapps are avoiding the Nazis in an Abbey graveyard. All brilliant stuff. 

But where it becomes more interesting is watching it as an adult. The rosy-tinted glow that a child’s lack of historical knowledge imbues the film with is gone, and in its place is a deeply moving study of a country being pulled into a regime and a war that will ultimately end in mass slaughter the likes of which the modern Western world has no comparison. The characters become more layered, and take on different aspects. 

For example, the Baroness. As a child I knew she was a Villain, making Maria scarper afraid. But as an adult I see far more levels of thought within her. She’s not evil, she just wants to marry the Captain, but when he eventually turns her down, she exits with poise and grace, telling him to go confess his love for Maria. It’s a beautifully subtle performance from Eleanor Parker, tinted with poignancy. 

And wider still. We see the Captain tear down a swastika and rip it to pieces. As a child I skimmed over this (again: Nazis = bad, Captain = good, that’s all you need to know) but as an adult the gesture shows the genuine fear and disgust he has of the new terrifying regime that is about to spread over his beloved homeland. The film centres on this motif: the last days of a glorious era (incidentally the same premise as Gone With The Wind), when the children sing goodnight to the revellers at the Captain’s party, the waltzing elegant partygoers sing goodnight in return. The glamour is obvious, but again the sense of a beautiful civilisation about to be destroyed is overwhelming. 

Julie Andrews is queen over all, obviously, and she’s backed up by some sublime performances. Peggy Wood as the wise Mother Abbess, Christopher Plummer as the stern but ultimately loving Captain and all of the seven children excel throughout. But as a child I focused on the story presented (governess transforms bereaved and warped family through music, and goes on to be their stepmother and help them escape from the Nazis), but as an adult I find the overall themes to actually lead. The music is fantastic, and with only one semi-dud ('Something Good' just drags the love-scene out) the songs are witty, clever and wholesome, but they are no longer the focus of this film for me. 

Instead it’s the quiet moments that impress - when the Captain falters singing a love song to Austria (the sublime ‘Edelweiss’) before Maria helps him, followed by the entire audience singing along, the Nazis silently fuming in the front row. It’s the beautifully measured wedding bells as the Captain marries Maria turning into the sombre death notes that accompany the Nazis ‘rise to power. 

And ultimately that’s what impressed me even more watching this as an adult: there is no real saccharine element. Coming twenty years after the war, many of the viewers would have known what those times were like, and would have shuddered at the sight of the swastika. It’s a film that doesn’t pull its punches and delivers differently every time you watch it. In short, it’s a masterpiece.

Highlight 

The moment the entire audience sings ‘Edelweiss’ together, their hope in their country swelling and overpowering the Nazis is a genuine tear-jerking moment. Goosebumps. 

Lowlight

It’s the smallest of niggles, but in a scene at the beginning Maria reduces the bullying children to tears through her kind words, and thus wins them over to her side. It rings false, but it’s clear the writers and director didn’t want to spend too long on this moment. 

Mark 

10/10 

Paul says...

I love The Sound of Music. I love it, I love it, I love it. And that’s really all I have to say on the matter. But I have 500 words to explain why I love it so, so here goes.

As Doug says, this is a film that grows in depth upon repeated viewings as you get older. Children enjoy the songs, the dancing, Maria herself, and the villainous Nazis- and potentially learn some basic history. Adults see the nuances in the love triangle between Maria, the Baroness and the Captain, experience the underlying fear felt by the “good” characters as they bemoan the changes approaching their country, and also start to notice that the Baroness’ best friend, Max, is a flaming homosexual. 

But for me, this is a film about childish innocence- and particularly about regaining and maintaining it in the face of personal tragedy and huge social change. The Von Trapp children begin the story in a state of regimented misery, thanks to their widower father who cannot allow them to be joyous for fear that it will remind him too much of his beloved late wife. Enter Maria, who quickly helps the family to gain back that love and mirth that was ostensibly lost. But then- enter Nazis. And suddenly that innocence has to be protected above all costs for fear of losing their souls to a lifestyle built on obedience and suppression. 

What is most interesting, and most haunting about the film, is that any references to the Nazis’ actions are made subtly and minutely as if the audience are the children themselves. We see passing comments and knowing looks between the adults; explanations from adults who are deliberately trying to avoid the subject; and, most poignantly, we see the change to young Rolfe who grows from passionate but ambitious youth into Nazi robot, through Liesl’s horrified eyes. In other words, this is a film that shows the natural progression from a state of childish innocence into the adult realisation that the world is not always kind, with Liesl, the only Von Trapp on the cusp of adulthood, bridging the gap between the two. But, the film states, despite this, we must keep our innocence and our sense of wonder, and have a good old romp through the mountains singing 'Do Re Mi', or yell out 'Edelweiss' to a group of uncomfortable Nazi superiors. 

This is also coupled with the strong emphasis on Austria’s grandeur, and how it is lost amidst totalitarian shouting. No specific year is given for the film’s setting- it’s simply the “Last Golden Years of the '30s”, a caption that comes after all those famous panoramic shots of the Austrian mountains, immediately reminding us that all of this was nearly lost through the Anschluss. 

Other little moments make this film spectacular and enduring. The powerful reprise of 'Edelweiss', the flabbergasting opening number, the wedding that puts Charles and Diana’s to shame, the tense exchanges between the Nazi powers and the Captain, the terrifying escape by the Von Trapps, and the sort of Mother Superior who we all need in our lives, providing life advice and singing operatically. 

For me, this is a perfect film, and one which I have to save for twice-yearly viewings to avoid getting sick of it (if that is at all possible!).

Highlight

Like Doug, the reprise of 'Edelweiss' as a final statement of Austrian courage and patriotism in the face of Nazi invaders is a great and tearful moment. It’s similar to the Marseillaise scene in Casablanca.

Lowlight

I suppose “Something Good” would be a song you could easily cut from the film. Slow, dull, and interspersed with superfluous dialogue. But it’s a minor quibble.

Mark

10/10

37. My Fair Lady (1964)

Plot Intro

Impoverished, working class Patsy-Palmer-impersonator Eliza Doolittle (Audrey Hepburn) just wants a room somewhere far away from the cold night air. In steps Professor Henry Higgins (Rex Harrison), an expert in phonetics who establishes a bet with his friend that he can transform Eliza into a dignified, regal, well-spoken lady worthy of meeting European royalty at an Embassy Ball in six months. Unfortunately, Eliza proves difficult to teach…

Paul says...

Based on George Bernard Shaw’s 1913 play Pygmalion, My Fair Lady has proven to be one of the most popular and successful musicals ever produced, debuting in 1956 on Broadway with Rex Harrison and Julie Andrews playing the leads. Now here’s where the Oscar-controversy comes in. While Harrison transferred his iconic role from stage to screen, Jack L. Warner wanted the more well-known Audrey Hepburn in the lead role instead of poor Andrews. This proved to be an unpopular decision, partly because Hepburn’s singing voice needed to be dubbed, and also because Andrews ended up making her big screen debut that year in Disney’s biggest money-maker, Mary Poppins. Consequently, while My Fair Lady got the Best Picture accolade, Andrews walked away with Best Actress (Hepburn wasn’t even nominated) and then went on to star in an even bigger hit musical the following year, which we’ll be reviewing next week.

Despite this, My Fair Lady is a film that has endured the decades, and songs such as “Wouldn’t It be Loverly?” and the “The Rain in Spain” have entered the movie musical Hall of Fame. Nonetheless, if someone were to ask me if I liked it, I’d probably give an apathetic shrug and say “Eh, it’s alright.”

Having been raised on lively, vibrant musicals such as The King and I, The Sound of Music, Oliver!, and pretty much anything written by Andrew Lloyd Webber, My Fair Lady comes across to me as static, slow-moving, and abominably heavy on dialogue. A vast majority of it takes place in Higgins’ living room, and some of the songs ground the entire plot to a halt. Examples are Alfred Doolittle’s “With a Little Bit of Luck” which tells us that he is a puckish, free-spirited scoundrel even though this has already been established, and “On the Street Where You Live” which is a lovely song but delivered by one of the most superfluous characters just standing in the street. Director George Cukor has a wealth of lively music-hall-style songs but very few of them lift off the ground because they’re usually delivered in one, pedestrian camera shot. I was begging for West Side Story’s ballet-dancing gangs to come prancing into Edwardian London.

Also, I’m never really convinced by or involved in Eliza’s sudden transformation (Hepburn gets an A for effort but I think she’s a bit lost amidst her undulating accent), and especially by Higgins’ love or, at least, reliance on Eliza. Higgins is repeatedly shown to be an elitist, misogynist, and anti-working-classist, and pretty much treats Eliza like shit throughout the full 3 hours. Harrison gives the best performance in the film, but I’ve never felt a need to get behind his character.  

There are some great moments - Higgins’ mother has some enjoyably catty lines, the Ascot scene is a hilarious attack on the behaviour of the bourgeoisie, and the Embassy Ball is the sort of tribute to unnecessary opulence that you can find on any wedding Pinterest board. I enjoyed the Ball in particular due to it being one of the most plot-heavy scenes, but it’s delivered mostly through music and movement, and very little dialogue (in contrast to most of the film). 

So it’s not all bad, but I’m not a fan of My Fair Lady. Great musicals have soaring scores but also tackle tough themes in my opinion, and while the other musical winners in the 1960’s tackle gang warfare, Nazi invasion, and infant poverty, My Fair Lady stays conspicuously away from being a hard-hitting attack on England’s ridiculous class system.

Highlight

The Ascot song is a great bit of satire - the upper-classes sing about their excitement and anticipation, but show absolutely none of it in their blank faces and robotic movements. It’s a shame the rest of the film is not so savage.

Lowlight

Many songs could have either been cut from the final product, or given the music hall treatment they need to inject some life into them. “With a Little Bit of Luck” and “On the Street Where You Live” are prime examples.

Mark

4/10

Doug says...

I completely disagree with Paul. 

The fact is that on previous viewings I was very much of the same opinion as him, finding it plot heavy and curiously staid. But watching today I noticed in fact how utterly cruel a story it is. Where Paul says he found it lacking in showing the class struggles, I felt the story - and the director George Cukor - actually brought this to the fore over and over again. At the very beginning of the film, we see the high society leaving Covent Garden opera house and being forced to shelter from the rain, alongside the ‘riff raff’ that Eliza hails from. When Eliza thinks she is about to be accused of some unknown crime by a detective (actually Higgins noting down her accent for his studies), she utterly breaks down, wailing in despair. It became clear to me that this moment when she wails - and in all the later moments when she does - it is her only outlet of the fear that being an extremely poverty-stricken human must have. It makes Higgins’ constant disregard and dismissal of her even more painful, his utter miscomprehension and refusal to see the world from her view constantly edges towards disgusting. 

Alfred Doolittle, Eliza’s father, is another example of this, having turned his back on being an ‘honourable’ poor person and instead taking what he can get. The film refuses to paint him as a villain, but actually uses moments to reinforce why he has these opinions. Colonel Pickering (a wealthy and entitled gentleman) asks him horrifiedly if he has no morals. No, Alfred replies, he is too poor for them. It may have been intended as a joke, but the direction doesn’t suggest it, and certainly watching now, you see it as a sharp moment of reality, among the pleasant armchairs and library of Higgins’ sitting room. 

But it’s not only there. The servants sing about ‘Poor Professor Higgins’ starving himself and staying up late, but the reality is that he’s eating large cream teas while Eliza looks on hungry, and forcing her to stay up until 3am working on her accent. And in what I feel to be the most painful scene of the film, after the success of the ball, all the characters ignore her - servants, Higgins and Pickering - and congratulate each other on the success of the wager. Eliza - still in her finery - stands alone in the corner of the room completely forgotten. 

I feel sorry for Audrey Hepburn. She apparently worked incredibly hard on the role as she faced a lot of enmity from the cast and crew who all wanted Julie Andrews back. She attempted to sing the role herself but was then overruled by the producers. And she is now always known for this role as having a note attached: ‘Should’ve been Julie Andrews’. But watching it fresh for the first time in years, I think she turns in a phenomenal performance. You are aware at every moment what she thinks and feels, including incredibly complex emotions. As a young flower-seller, you see her pain and pride constantly battling, while the agony of her speech lessons seems even greater. It’s the nuances that impressed me - how she showed her mid-way development at the Ascot races, her voice almost there, but not quite - her mannerisms slightly too showy but along the right lines. (As a side note:  this is how much of a dick Henry Higgins is - he teaches her to speak but doesn’t teach her anything about society rules so she starts talking about her aunt’s suspicious death at the races only for Higgins’ face to turn to thunder in the background). 

Rex Harrison gives a great performance too as the chauvinistic Higgins while Stanley Holloway as Alfred Doolittle keeps up the energy for all his songs. Unlike Paul, I love all the songs. They’re not designed to push plots forwards, but they give character insights. 'A Little Bit of Luck' shows Alfred at his cheeriest but also fully reveals how anti-society he is. 'I Could Have Danced All Night' is wistful and cheerful, but also as emotional as 'Wouldn’t It Be Luvverly?' in showing Eliza’s naive optimism and want to be better. The film is fast paced, although the last twenty minutes does go on a bit. Maybe some quicker editing there would have helped…

The final cruelty of this film for me is in its ending. Eliza breaks down weeping after the ball, saying how she does not know where to go anymore. It’s a nasty moment as we see she can never go back to Covent Garden as she won’t be accepted there now, but also she isn’t actually high class and probably will never fit in. The film produces two solutions: one is that she marry the sappy Freddie who has met her once and now is fully in love with her, the other is that she stay with Higgins as a friend/lover/secretary. The film and Shaw’s original play Pygmalion chose different endings to each other, but neither satisfy me. What we want is to see her go out and start her own business, and make her own success. But the film ends in a place where we know Eliza will never be able to fulfil her true potential - she’s now better off than where she started, but she’s also lost between the classes. It’s a subtly savage ending to what is a dark take on 1900s English society. 

Highlight

The scene where Higgins and Pickering congratulate each other on Eliza’s success is beautifully written, performed and directed. What is potentially an upbeat song becomes nasty as we see the unnoticed Eliza outside the circle. It’s a potent metaphor for the class system at work. 

Lowlight

I wasn’t a fan of the ‘dream’ section during Just You Wait. We don’t need to see the King in Eliza’s daydream killing Higgins. It just didn’t fit. 

Mark

8/10

36. Tom Jones (1963)

Plot Intro

England, the 1740s. Squire Allworthy (George Devine) discovers an abandoned baby in his bed one day. It transpires that the baby is born out of wedlock but out of the goodness of his heart, Allworthy adopts it as his own and names him Tom Jones (Albert Finney). Tom grows up to be an adventurous, flirtatious and rebellious individual, in contrast to his virtuous but manipulative cousin, Blifin (David Warner). The community are furious when Tom and a local squire’s daughter, Sophie Western (Susannah York), fall in love, so Tom is forced to run away on a series of absurd and naughty adventures…

Doug says...

I should start by saying that this is one of the first films we have had without options for subtitles, and as I’m hard of hearing this immediately makes it a lot more difficult to sensibly analyse the film - particularly as the sound quality of 1960s films is not particularly high. 

But as this ‘comic’ film’s humour is largely visual, I have no doubt in declaring that in my opinion it is awful. It’s got a huge amount of acclaim, and considered one of the funniest films of its time, and yet only one moment managed anything near a laugh from me. There are scenes that according to reviews are ‘iconic’, such as one where Tom Jones and one of his conquests eat food sultrily in front of each other, but to me these scenes were obvious, overlong and unimaginative. 

I suspect that at the time it was a film that broke a lot of boundaries - there’s numerous scenes where they show Tom having sex with different women, and everything is a lot looser. But the bawdiness is pushed too far to be comic - at one point a ‘Drunk Farmer’ embraces a woman and they both fall into a haystack. It’s clearly meant to be hilarious but ends up being just weird. It’s Carry On humour - and clearly a piece of its time. A lot of today’s humour is far more witty, with wordplay and comic timing is more ‘in’ than slapstick. 

I can’t really comment on the storyline (there’s very few actors who I could actually make out what they’re saying) but the most obvious thing about this film is that they’ve really gone to town in experimenting with scene changes. Some scenes last only a handful of lines, and the whole thing speeds along at a frantic pace - so frantic in fact that a crucial bit of information is delivered at the end direct to camera by an actress. There’s frequent looks-to-camera, constantly shaky camerawork and bizarre choices of angles, which all help with the rushing pace. I imagine the original Henry James novel is huge and they’ve had to condense it into two hours, but the whole thing barely makes any sense. 

Good things? Edith Evans is there, thank god. She has a tiny part with a few lines and yet manages to lift the whole thing from mediocrity in every scene she has, and the one laugh I had in the film came from her brutal dismissal of a would-be-highwayman. She’s certainly the only actor who makes themselves noticeable from the whirling maelstrom that is this confusing and hasty film. 

It’s also the first film where I’m genuinely at a loss for why it won. With every film you can find some element that must have led to its success, but here we have what feels like a Carry On film with a higher budget and less talent. If it was funny then, it’s certainly dated and I found myself longing for it to end. One to avoid. 

Highlight 

There’s a lot of dogs running around which is nice. And Edith Evans manages a spark of something in this turgid mess. 

Lowlight

The entire film. It was just dreadful. The other films this year must have been dire. 

Mark 

0.5/10 (it would have been 0 but for Edith) 

Paul says...

I will begin by saying that I agree with a majority of what Doug says. But before I go into details, I will first give a History lesson. Yay!

I had the dubious honour of studying Henry Fielding (who wrote the original novel in 1749) at University. Fielding is often credited with being one of the founders of the English novel, along with Daniel “Robinson Crusoe” Defoe, and Samuel Richardson. His exceedingly lengthy and bawdy novels were often categorised as “picaresque”- a genre involving the adventures of a lower-class, good-hearted rogue, often facing off against snobs and religious villains. Fielding combined the sort of philosophical musings one would usually find in poetry with the naughty jokes and sexually-charged plot-lines of Restoration theatre to create an all-new type of writing. Like him or loathe him, Fielding is a turning point in literary history.

The film succeeds in capturing Fielding’s style. It’s fast-paced, with short, snappy scenes and dialogue that gets right to the point. It’s eventful and has a pithy narrator. It’s rambunctious and not afraid to throw some literal and metaphorical winks to the camera and Kenneth Williams-style asides. And the entire cast look like they’re having a whale of a time, which helps to accentuate Fielding’s sense of fun. Hugh Griffith and Edith Evans, who play Sophie Western’s Father and Aunt, steal most of their scenes, with the former being a drunken, clumsy oaf and the latter being his austere and dignified comic foil. You get the sense that everyone was having a laugh behind camera as well as in front of it, which is refreshing to see considering that a majority of Best Picture winners tend to take themselves very seriously.

Where the film fails miserably for me is the fact that they’ve kept to Fielding’s style so faithfully, that they’ve maintained his glaring faults. The story feels like it is all over the place, and moves forward in jumps and starts, sometimes with some lengthy, overdone moments such as a vicious deer hunt emphasising the brutality of these country dwellers, and then some extremely fast scenes in which important plot points are lost amidst shouting and silliness. There are some examples of innovative writing, such as the opening scenes being done in the style of a comic silent film, setting the tone very well, and a climactic scene in which one character turns to the camera and quickly summarises everything that’s going on. But the film doesn’t keep this creative momentum going for its full two hours. 

And finally, the biggest issue, for Fielding and for his cinematic adaptation, is that it’s just not very funny. It’s silly, yes. It has the mishaps, misunderstandings and escalations that make Frasier and Fawlty Towers so hilarious, but it’s all so chaotic and overly done that even I, who do not require subtitles, was struggling to understand what was going on. There’s a great bit of storyline when a large number of characters coincidentally convene at a country inn which ends in Tom’s escape through a window, several bed-hops, and a couple of fainting women, but the comedy is drowned out by the frantic camera work and lack of build-up. Other background jokes such as a disobedient horse are also lost by sudden cuts and actors shouting over each other.

Comedy is such a rarity for us on this sojourn through Best Picture winners, but Tom Jones did not prove to be the refreshing alternative treat that I hoped for. It's outdated chaos, and probably won due to the increased sexual permissiveness in the '60s (and because its opponent was Cleopatra, which was over 4 hours).

Highlight

Edith Evans’ escape from an amateur highwayman, in which she simply shouts at him undeterred and drives her carriage onward, elicited the only laugh from me.

Lowlight

See above.

Mark

1/10