The Loneliness of the Long-Distance Runner. A Review

THE LONELINESS OF THE LONG-DISTANCE RUNNER

This review is part of the Summer Under the Stars Blogathon. Today's star is Tom Courtenay.

There was a time in British cinema where "the angry young man" dominated. These tales of working-class alienation and despair were prominent with such films as Look Back in Anger and Saturday Night and Sunday Morning. Even Sir Laurence Olivier got into the act with The Entertainer. Another film entry into the kitchen sink drama is The Loneliness of the Long-Distance Runner. This is an absolutely brilliant film, with a standout performance by Tom Courtenay as our antihero.

Young Colin Smith (Courtenay) has been sent to Ruxton Towers, a youth detention center (what is called a borstal in Britain) after having been found guilty of breaking into a bakery and stealing money. Here, Smith is at most indifferent to things, at most hostile to the people around him. He has one standout quality: Colin is an excellent athlete.

This piques the attention of the borstal Governor (Michael Redgrave). Ruxton Towers will have the chance to compete in an athletic tournament with the posh Ranley School. The Governor is sure that Smith will defeat Ranley in long-distance running. Smith does have great skill in this event and soon gets the priviledge of running through the nearby fields unaccompanied. As he runs, Colin has the chance to reflect on his life prior to Ruxton Towers.

He remembers his father's death and how his mother (Avis Bunnage) spends his father's life insurance money on needless luxuries such as a television and a fur coat. He also sees Mrs. Smith bring in Gordon (Charles Dyer), her new lover to live at the home with Colin and his younger siblings. He remembers his best mate Mike (James Bolam) and the scrapes that they got into together. He remembers Audrey (Topsy Jane), his first love and first lover. He also thinks about what the future holds for Colin Smith. He remembers the break-in and his efforts to pull a fast one on the cop doggedly pursuing him. He remembers how he was eventually caught, thanks to the rain.

Now he is here at Ruxton Towers, running but going nowhere. The Governor dreams of glory for Ruxton and by extension for himself. On race day itself, Colin soon overtakes Ranley's best runner, the upper-class Gunthorpe (James Fox). As he nears the finish line, the past comes at Colin in flashes. His mother. His father. The cop. Mike. Audrey. Gordon. Will Colin win the race, or will he win for himself?

I think The Loneliness of the Long-Distance Runner has one of the greatest performances in film in Tom Courtenay. Colin Smith is another angry young man, frustrated in life but finding no escape. I'm reminded of a line from Pet Shop Boys' West End Girls: "we've got no future; we've got no past". That describes Colin Smith perfectly. He sees what the future holds for him: a life like his father's. This is not what he wants. I think that he wants near-endless visits to Skegness with Audrey like the one that he took with her, Mike and Audrey's BFF Gladys (Julia Foster) who is also Mike's girlfriend.

However, that would take money, which Colin does not have. Worse, he sees how his mother flittered it away. He is powerless to persuade her not to splurge so rampantly. He is powerless to stop Gordon from trying to usurp Colin's place as head of the family. In short, he is powerless.

Unlike other angry young men in the kitchen sink genre, Colin Smith is a remarkably decent, thoughtful young man. He is angry, but it is the world around him that has shaped him so. Another angry young man, Laurence Harvey in Room at the Top, carried a permanent chip on his shoulder. Colin, on the other hand, shows a thoughtful, tender side, in particular with Audrey. He is a reflective young man, aware of the hardness of life and his inability to change it despite his wish to. "All I know is that you've got to run, running without knowing why, through fields and woods. And the winning post is no end, even though the balmy crowd might be cheering themselves daft". Colin understands through his time at Ruxton Towers that, for all the success that he might have for his athletic skills, he is still very much alone, condemned to stay in one place.

Metaphor has never been so well used in film as it is for The Loneliness of the Long-Distance Runner. 

Yet, I have wandered off from Tom Courtenay's performance. His Colin Smith is an antihero for the ages. Colin is cynical and sullen. Yet within him, Colin is also tender and caring. He has a brief scene where he looks in on his dying father. As everyone else seems to have forgotten the cantankerous old man, Colin quietly covers him with his blanket. Courtenay reveals Colin's anger at his mother's frivolousness to downright disinterest in her late husband on the family shopping spree. Sitting quietly, smoking, he observes her buying needless thing after needless thing, his impotency and condemnation clear. 

Courtenay reveals Colin's tender side when he is with Jane's Audrey. "I know enough, you know, to want to know more," he tells her. This line from Allan Sillitoe's adaptation of his own short story reveals so much about Colin. He thirsts for something more, something better, but knows that he will not find it. I think that he is disgusted with the world as it is but cannot find a way to change it. 

As his benevolent antagonist, Michael Redgrave is correct as the pompous Governor. He imagines that he cares about the young men at Ruxton Towers and in Colin's future. In reality, Colin and the audience knows that the Governor cares about glory and tribute for the institution and by extension, for himself. In the climatic race conclusion, Colin's smile is countered by the Governor's scowl. In this exchange, brilliantly directed by Tony Richardson, we see not just their battle coming to its conclusion. We see in a sense that battle between the haves and the have-nots.

The Loneliness of the Long-Distance Runner reveals itself in other ways. The use of the traditional British hymn Jerusalem is used ironically. This ode to patriotism is heard twice: in the opening and in counter for when an escaped borstal resident is returned and punished. The second use of Jerusalem is also when a "concert" for the boys is ended. This concert consists of a man doing bird imitations and an elderly couple singing a very old song in an old-fashioned way. It is such a laughable sight to have a bird imitator attempt to entertain young men. It does, however, reveal that disconnect between those in power and those under them. It is a credit to both Richardson and Courtenay that one is unsure if Colin Smith is singing along to Jerusalem because he genuinely believes in its sentiment or to mock said sentiment.

In one of the flashbacks, Mike and Colin have muted a television speech extolling a revived patriotism in the new Elizabethan age. The delight Mike and Colin have at how silly the man looks reveals much about their world and views on it.

Richardson even manages to have a bit of comedy in The Loneliness of the Long-Distance Runner. The break-in ends with deliberately sped-up action that would be seen in a silent movie, down to John Addison's music. Colin's efforts to hide the discovered money are also amusing. It does show that even a kitchen sink drama can have a genuine sense of fun.  

I finished The Loneliness of the Long-Distance Runner highly impressed with everything in it. Colin Smith is an antihero that you end up admiring. He is unbowed and true to himself. "I got caught. Didn't run fast enough," he tells an interviewer at Ruxton Towers. There is a lot of meaning in that line. The Loneliness of the Long-Distance Runner is simply brilliant, with a standout performance by Tom Courtenay. Anyone who takes time to see The Loneliness of the Long-Distance Runner will find a masterclass of storytelling. 

DECISION: A+

Look Back in Anger: A Review

LOOK BACK IN ANGER

Angry young men don't come any angrier than working-class British young men. From Albert Finney in Saturday Night and Sunday Morning to Laurence Harvey in Room at the Top and Tom Courtney in The Loneliness of the Long-Distance Runner, disaffected British men were the cream of the crop for misery and moroseness. Welshman Richard Burton gets into the act with one of the original kitchen sink dramas, Look Back in Anger. Mostly well-acted, this story of the working-class man as antihero is surprisingly universal.

Jimmy Porter (Richard Burton) has a small stand which he runs with his friend Cliff Lewis (Gary Raymond) selling sweets. The legality of their stand is perpetually in question by local cop Hurst (Donald Pleasance). Jimmy yearns to move up in life, but he feels that society is against his dreams of upward mobility.

That anger extends to his upper-middle-class wife Allison (Mary Ure). Jimmy loves her, but he also harbors resentments about her posh upbringing versus his hardscrabble early years. Things come to a head when Allison's friend Helena Charles (Claire Bloom) comes to stay with the three of them, Cliff being friends with the Porters. Allison is pregnant and though unspoken, unsure what to do given Jimmy's eternal battle with the world. Helena convinces Allison to leave Jimmy and return to her parents. Despite their mutual loathing, Jimmy and Helena begin an affair.

Cliff, who also wants to move up in the world, finally has the strength to do so. For her part, Allison finds the pregnancy hard physically. Our stories come together when Helena and Jimmy see Cliff off at the railway station. Here, they encounter Allison, grief-stricken over her miscarriage.  Will Jimmy and Helena stay together, or will he find himself with his still-wife?

"You're hurt because everything has changed, and Jimmy's hurt because everything is the same", Helena tells Allison. Many a true word is spoken in that line. Look Back in Anger is a fitting title, for Jimmy is the embodiment of the angry young man. He has endless rage: at the world, at his loving wife, at his best friend, at his mistress, at the injustice of his life. 

This sense of an eternal railing against the dying of the light is brilliantly captured by Richard Burton. One can forgive that, at age 33, he was probably too old for the part. However, right from the opening scene, where Jimmy is belting it all out on his trumpet, you can see that rage within him. This is a man who wants to claw his way out onto the world yet cannot break through. 

In his tirades, his metaphorical shouting at the wind, Burton holds your attention throughout. Yet, something within him still can feel. We see this at the end, when he sees that the rage he has hurled at others does hurt those that he does love.

Mary Ure, who recreated her role of Allison from the original West End production, brings a delicacy and almost despairing manner to the role. This is a woman who truly loved deeply, though not well. She is conflicted about Jimmy, about her past, her present and future. She yearns for Jimmy but also knows that he has placed barriers that keep them apart. Gary Raymond's Cliff is pretty easygoing and pleasant, a likeable fellow who also knows deep inside that things should be better.

In his small role, Donald Pleasance was almost amusing as Hurst, the stall market inspector who delighted in what little power he had. He was strict, but he was also fair. 

Claire Bloom does wonders with the role of Helena, Allison's friend who ends up betraying her. While her performance was excellent, she is what troubles me about the film. I never once believed that Helena would end up having an affair with Jimmy. Until they were lips aflame, Helena and Jimmy were at perpetual loggerheads. As such, their affair once Allison up and left for shelter and comfort at her parents' home never seemed believable to me. 

I suppose that it had to happen to move the story forward. For myself though, I never accepted that these two would fall for each other. I found that aspect of the film implausible. 

Despite that, Look Back in Anger works very well. It is a surprise that this was Tony Richardson's film directorial debut. He had directed the original stage production, but Richardson proved himself adept to bring the stage production to film. Look Back in Anger flows well. For a film that runs 98 minutes, Look Back in Anger never feels either rushed or short. 

Look Back in Anger makes for a fine film adaptation of the stage play. I do not think that it is so sacrosanct that it could not do with a remake. I wonder though, if the same themes of alienation, frustration and painful acceptance would resonate now as they did when the play premiered. However, you do have some strong performances and an interesting story which should both entertain and move an audience. 

DECISION: B-

Room at the Top: A Review

ROOM AT THE TOP

This review is part of the Summer Under the Stars Blogathon. Today's star is Laurence Harvey.

Ambition to move up in the world is a double-edged sword. To build a life better than what your parents or grandparents had is a positive. To sacrifice love, and even yourself, to reach a certain level of success is a tragedy. Room at the Top works well due to some of its performances and its story of ambition run amok.

Joe Lampton (Laurence Harvey) yearns for a life far from his humble, bitter working-class roots. Newly arrived to Warnley from Dufdon, Joe has a respectable government job. However, that won't get him to The Top, the fashionable upper-class part of town. 

One person who can get him there is Susan Brown (Heather Sears), daughter of a wealthy industrialist. However, Joe faces some obstacles. There is Jack Wales (John Westbrook), Susan's haughty, wealthy fiancée. Another is Alice Aisgill (Simone Signoret), the French wife of an Englishman who like Susan, keeps herself busy by participating in local amateur theatrics.

Despite being older, Alice and Joe begin an affair. While for Alice it is love, for Joe it is more complex. He may love Alice, and even be in love with Alice. He, however, also loves Susan's position and wealth. Joe is warned against pursuing wealth over romance on all sides, but he will not be dissuaded. 

One virginity taken, one unplanned pregnancy, and one car accident all clear the way for Joe Lampton to get all he wants, but he finds that it is not all roses at The Top.

It is said that a tragedy in life is to get everything you want, and Room at the Top captures that bitter truth. Despite his outward charm and good looks, there is something dark, bitter and desperate in Joe. He is driven by a blind desire to "get ahead", but he sees too late that he does not know that there are many ways of "getting ahead". 

At times, I thought Laurence Harvey was a bit over-the-top as the brittle, angry Joe, forever driven by that massive chip on his shoulder. However, there are times when Harvey shows what shaped him into being this social climber with a heart of brass only occasionally touched by genuine affection.

On a return visit that is really a set-up to get him out of the way, he goes to what was his home, which is a bombed-out ruin destroyed by the Second World War. As he looks on a child playing in what she calls "her house", Harvey's performance shows that Joe's needs to move up are not purely predatory but also about self-preservation. In his provincial manner (such as mispronouncing "brazier" as "brassier") and almost prudish working-class morality, Harvey shows Joe to be not evil, but a tragic figure.

He is outacted however by Signoret as the loved and lost Alice. In her Oscar-winning performance, Signoret shows Alice as someone who has grown to love Joe for who he is. She, however, is not ashamed or afraid of who she is. In a strong scene where she reveals she posed for an artist once, Alice is able to make a strong case that she should not be ashamed of making her own decisions, especially as she did not have sex with the artist but merely posed for him.

Alice is aware that Joe is driven by other needs, but she still loves the young man he can be. Signoret managed to make Alice into a strong yet vulnerable woman, humiliated by an unfaithful husband and abandoned by her lover in this foreign land. It is a strong, beautiful performance.

Hermione Baddeley earned a place in Oscar history by receiving a Supporting Actress nomination for two minutes and 19 seconds of screentime, the shortest performance ever so recognized with an acting nomination. Her performance as Elspeth, the woman whose apartment serves as Alice and Joe's love nest, is good: the mix of rage and hurt at the loss of her dear friend leaving an impression. Sears struggled at times to make the naive, lovelorn Susan into an intelligent person, but as she was a woman in love unaware of the cruelties of man, perhaps that is how it should be.

Room at the Top is a tragedy, where the protagonist learns too late that not all that glitters is gold. With strong performances and an involving story, it is worth looking into how having it all leaves you with nothing.

DECISION: B-

A Taste of Honey: A Review (Review #1530)

 

A TASTE OF HONEY

A Taste of Honey has it all: abusive mothers, miscegenation, illegitimate births, homosexuals. An early example of "kitchen sink drama", A Taste of Honey delves into the lives of three disparate people brought together by all these elements.

Working-class schoolgirl Jo (Rita Tushingham) yearns for a better life away from her lush, tart of a mother Helen (Dora Bryan). Bouncing from flat to flat over Helen's inability to keep up with the rent, Jo is counting the days where she will be free from school and start her own life.

Her dreams are complicated by two situations: Helen's romance with the younger Peter (Robert Stephens), who makes it clear he doesn't want Jo with them, and Billy (Paul Danquath), the black sailor with whom Jo experiences her first romance and sexual encounter.

Billy sails off and Helen chooses middle-class respectability with Peter, but neither really bother Jo. She's starting a new life as a shoe salesgirl. Here, she meets Geoffrey (Murray Melvin), whom she starts a platonic friendship due to his homosexuality. Geoffrey and Jo make an odd couple, but things take a turn when Jo finds herself knocked up. As Billy is now gone, Jo opts to have the child and repeatedly declines Geoff's help and marriage offers.

Geoff contacts Helen for help, and she seems willing but Peter again pushes to keep Jo out of their lives. Jo for her part isn't eager for Mommie Dearest to be part of her or her child's life either. As Peter has found a new bit of fluff, Helen now is more able to help Jo, though it means Geoff will have to go, which he does. At the end, Jo tells Helen the child may be black, and we end A Taste of Honey on an ambiguous note, with Helen moving in, Geoff moving out and Jo unsure of what is to become of her.

I am at a bit of a loss over why for a brief time British cinema seemed wildly obsessed with chronicling the miserable lives of the British working class. Films like A Taste of Honey and Saturday Night and Sunday Morning appear to suggest if not flat-out say that the British working poor led lives of loud desperation. They faced endless horrors and were perpetually unhappy, making horrible decisions, drowning their miseries in booze and broads. I'm genuinely surprised no one ever opted to make a spoof of these kinds of films, but I digress.

A Taste of Honey tackles serious subjects in a somewhat realistic manner. I say somewhat only in that Shelagh Delaney (adapting her play with the film's director, Tony Richardson) can't quite escape the theatrical setting. Many scenes, particularly when we're at Jo's loft, look like they could easily take place on a stage. The film does not totally avoid looking like a filmed play, which did make the overall effect a bit stagey.

However, these limits are offset by some of the performances. Tushingham, making her film debut, is quite strong if perhaps at times bordering on hysterical as Jo. When she isn't shouting at someone, her quiet moments allow the viewer to see Jo as frustrated by her surroundings, one who yearns for a better life and even has a bit of joy that is quickly taken from her. She can be tacky, like when she almost chipper-like asks Geoff to describe being with a man. She can also, however, be arrogant, hard-headed and lost. Despite what she feels about her mother, Jo is repeating the same mistakes Helen made. It is a strong debut performance.

I found Bryan to be the better performance. Her Helen was not just a selfish floozy but someone with a bit of a heart. Bryan made Helen a sad, tragic figure: one who did put herself first but who also, in her way, wanted something better for Jo. When she remembers Jo's father and how she ended up pregnant, you see Helen looking back not in anger but in regret. When she sees the ring Billy gave Jo, she tries to warn her daughter about men, but by now she has set such a poor example her words fall flat. Struggling to love Jo and be a mother, Helen could not truly put her daughter ahead of herself. It is a beautiful performance.

That leaves Melvin, and here is where A Taste of Honey could only go so far. While it isn't overtly stated Geoff is gay he does acknowledge it. However, Geoff's sexuality plays almost no role in the story. We never see him so much as look at another man, and it makes one wonder if Geoff's homosexuality is there more for the novelty of seeing a gay man on film than anything else. Granted, A Taste of Honey is Jo's story, not Geoff's, but seeing that he really has no purpose apart from being an early version of "the gay best friend", it seems almost pointless to bring up the subject.

A Taste of Honey is clearly an ironic title, as no one here will ever know the sweet life. The film, well-acted and directed, gives us a look into this world that more than a few people know personally. I did find it an interesting story, though again I wonder if the British working class ever had any happiness in their lives.

DECISION: B-

Saturday Night and Sunday Morning: A Review

SATURDAY NIGHT AND SUNDAY MORNING

The expression "Saturday night and Sunday morning" may mean something different in the United States than perhaps it does to those involved in this British kitchen-sink drama. To me, it refers to how one can live a pretty decadent, even debauched life only to repent right after (Saturday night at the bars, Sunday morning at church). This "Saturday night and Sunday morning" is about that brief time of freedom for our "angry young man" between the drudgery of Monday to Friday. Saturday Night and Sunday Morning is a well-acted film that tells a small slice-of-life story.

Factory machinist Arthur Seaton (Albert Finney) hates his job and isn't particularly thrilled with his working-class life. He sees people like coworker Jack (Brian Pringle) as essentially saps: Jack is pretty satisfied with his life, Arthur most certainly not.

Arthur is satisfied with Jack's wife Brenda (Rachel Roberts) whom he has been having an affair with. Arthur may bed Brenda, but he does not love her, let alone the prospect of marriage. Then comes brassy Doreen (Shirley Anne Field) who piques his interests but who doesn't give in easily to our brash young man. He starts dating Doreen while still seeing Brenda and thinks nothing of his double dealing.

That is until Brenda tells him she's pregnant. As she and Jack haven't had sex in months it's clear who the father is. Efforts to induce an abortion fail, with Arthur desperate to get out of this mess. Things culminate at a local fair where Brenda opts to keep the child but Jack, along with his soldier brother, discover the lovers. Arthur still manages to avoid personal scandal and Doreen is staying by his side, but will he fully commit?

Saturday Night and Sunday Morning has a stellar performance from Albert Finney as Arthur. Finney makes no effort to make Arthur anywhere near sympathetic. In fact, Arthur seems to almost thrive in being selfish and petty, yet despite his flaws we get some sense of what drives him. Arthur feels trapped in his world, one where if he does marry, he'll be condemned to end his days watching television like his father or worse being a cuckold like Jack. Arthur wants to live, and to him, that means booze and broads without them controlling him.

We see that mix of arrogance and anger early on when he's in an informal drinking match with a sailor. Arthur appears better able to handle his liquor, even up to "accidentally" spilling beer on an older couple. It isn't until he steps to the outside when he stumbles down the pub staircase that we find Arthur is more self-destructive and foolish than antihero.

Finney keeps the audiences' attention throughout Saturday Night and Sunday Morning, down to having opening and closing voiceovers. I found Arthur a very selfish man but not a monster, a credit to Finney as an actor.

Director Karel Reisz also gets great performances out of the rest of his cast. Field's Doreen is nobody's fool, able to stand toe-to-toe with Arthur, but we also see that she dreams of domesticity in the same way Arthur recoils from it. Roberts' Brenda manages not to be either a shrew or a tramp, but a woman who loves the freedom Arthur embodies while also remaining aware of his danger. 

Reisz, working from Allan Silltoe's adaptation of his own novel, brings almost a cinema verite manner to Saturday Night and Sunday Morning. At times it does look like a documentary, and we get the sense of what life would be like for a working-class lad in early 1960's Britain. 

Perhaps this is why it didn't hit me as hard, the passage of time and the idea of upward mobility watering it down a bit. Also, some sections such as a sequence involving Arthur shooting pellets at local gossip Mrs. Bull (Edna Morris) seemed more curious comedy than true to the the lives of unquiet desperation so many post-war youth led. Almost everything involving Mrs. Bull seemed more like early Eastenders or Coronation Street, or at least precursors.

That's a minor complaint on the whole thought. Saturday Night and Sunday Morning is a showcase for early Albert Finney and a time capsule of when the "angry young man" ruled the thoughts of the British. It's a curious thing about the British: seemingly worshipful of the lives of aristocracy while simultaneously fascinated with the working-class. 

DECISION: B+

The Entertainer (1960): A Review

THE ENTERTAINER

I think that audiences must have been shocked to see Laurence Olivier, the embodiment of classical British theater, who had become the undisputed Master of Shakespearean roles (with John Gielgud as his only really serious rival), as the lead in The Entertainer, the sordid story of a third-rate song-and-dance man.   Yet it's a testament to Olivier's extraordinary talents as an actor that in this role, he created a character as iconic as his Richard III or Henry V.  The Entertainer gives us a side of Olivier in terms of acting that I don't think perhaps even he was fully aware he was capable of.   We also see early work by three other actors who would go on to long and respected careers themselves, which is an added bonus in this tale of woe.

Archie Rice (Olivier) is in dire financial straits.  A vaudevillian when the musical hall tradition is dying out to television, Rice has never been the success that his retired father, Billy Rice (Roger Livesey) was in the heyday of the musical hall era.  Still, Archie Rice keeps plugging away with his quips and dance numbers, despite smaller audiences and bigger bills.  He keeps the show going despite the fact he has no money and has been successful at evading the tax man for near-on twenty years.  Rice's troupe is starting to rebel, but Archie has a few other things on his mind.

First, one of his two sons, Mick (Albert Finney, Newcomer Num. One) has been sent by the Army to the Suez at the time of the Suez Crisis.  Second, his daughter Jean (Joan Plowright, Newcomer Num. 2), who opted out of the family business, is concerned for both her brother and father.  She's a social worker who wants to make a difference but her engagement to Graham (Daniel Massey) is on the rocks.  He wants to take a job in Africa, but she doesn't want to change her career or move far from her family.

She goes to visit her family where Archie is doing his show.  Her stepmother Phoebe (Brenda De Banzie) is fond of her and her brothers Mick and Frank (Alan Bates, Newcomer Num. 3).  She worries constantly about the whole family, and soothes her anxieties with alcohol.  Frank, who is Archie's music director, thinks well of his father though Frank is dismissive of his own talent (he supplements his income by playing organ at movie houses and dance halls).  He is either oblivious or unconcerned that Archie fools around on Phoebe quite a lot, something both Phoebe and Archie are aware of.

Archie is desperate to mount a new show at the Winter Garden, but his name and style isn't a draw.  Archie's fortunes, however, appear to take a turn for the better when he is a last-minute replacement at a bathing beauty contest.  The second-place winner, Tina (Shirley Anne Field), dreams of a theatrical career, and thinks the smitten Archie may be her way in.  Archie thinks Tina is perfect...at least as far as her wealthy parents are concerned.  They're the perfect people to fund his new show.  The fact that Archie's begun an affair with Tina isn't shocking.  Not even the fact that she's just twenty is shocking.  It's the fact that this is the first time Archie's seriously considered leaving Phoebe and marrying her.

This is too much for Jean, who discovers Archie's dalliance.  She goes to her grandfather, who in turn contacts Tina's parents to tell them the truth about Archie.  It was a poor decision, as Archie's already spent the money and now has nothing to pay anyone with.  To attempt to save Archie, Billy agrees to make a 'comeback' at the Winter Garden, with Archie as part of the act, despite Billy's poor health.

You can imagine how that went, and it couldn't have come at a worse time for Archie.  Prior to this horrible turn of events, the Rices learn that Mick has been killed in Egypt, his funeral having drawn major attention (and perhaps, a bit of a focus on Archie).  With Archie having buried his son and his father in rapid succession, it's all over for Archie Rice, song-and-dance man.  Phoebe and Frank take up Phoebe's brother's plan to go to Canada and start fresh, but Archie opts to face the music.  As Jean watches her father sing and dance one last time before the show's closed and he faces the bankruptcy courts, his theme song, Why Should I Care?, takes on an even more bitter irony.

In a career where noble, highborn characters were his forte, Laurence Olivier I think reached one of his greatest performances as this thoroughly common little man ('common' in so many ways).  His shtick isn't funny or clever, his song-and-dance routines appear the product of a long-dead era.  I think that was the point of The Entertainer, the idea of a man with limited abilities continuing to ruin himself and all those around him due to his refusal to consider anything but himself.

There is a scene midpoint at The Entertainer when Archie tells Jean that he is essentially dead.  He can smile, put on a show, but there is nothing there beneath his eyes.  This monologue of Olivier's is as moving and powerful as the soliloquies of Hamlet or machinations of Richard III.  In those, Olivier had to be appropriately grand and noble.  With Archie Rice, Olivier had to be vulnerable, broken, momentarily stripped of whatever thin veneer of greatness he held onto.  Despite how sleazy Archie Rice is, at the end Olivier's performance makes us sad for this aging, out-of-touch, foolish, desperate man, who gave up so much for nothing and got nothing from all his plans.

The other performances are all equally wonderful.  Plowright, who would go on to marry Olivier and stay with him until his death while forging her own career, is sympathetic as the loving but still angry Jean (her dressing down of her father a particularly effective piece of acting).  In their smaller roles, Bates and Finney leave positive impressions (particularly Finney, who has only one scene).  We even see Charles Gray (better known as Mycroft Holmes in the Granada Television Sherlock Holmes series starring Jeremy Brett, as Blofeld in Diamonds Are Forever, or as the Narrator in The Rocky Horror Picture Show) in a small role as a journalist interviewing Archie and Billy Rice.  De Banzie is a bit over-the-top as Phoebe, but she also has moments of genuine sloshed anger.  Livesey is wonderful as the somewhat dismissive but loving Billy Rice.

Richardson made some fine decisions visually.   Jean's discovery of her father's newest mistress came from her observing them via a mirror, showing her (and us) just enough without making a big show of it. The advert for Archie Rice's show appears to be deliberately freakish, emblematic of the man's somewhat grotesque nature.  Later on in the film, there is something profoundly sad as this massive sign, with the almost horrifying nature behind the smile, having to look down as Mick's funeral passes by.  Richardson doesn't deliberately draw attention to this, but I think he left enough room for the audience to see the symbolism behind it all.

I understand that The Entertainer was playwright John Osborne's allegory of the dying British Empire.  Osborne, who adapted his play with Nigel Kneale, might have had that in mind, but the greatness of The Entertainer is that it can work as allegory and as a straight story.

The Entertainer is a tragedy about a man wrecked by his own devices.  It has one of Laurence Olivier's best (and I think perhaps now least remembered) performances.  I think it has to do with the fact that Archie Rice is as far away from what we think of as "Laurence Olivier" as possible.  Still, Archie Rice, this flawed, foolish, failure, is a highpoint of Olivier's extraordinary career. 

Laurence Olivier...song-and-dance man.  Who'd of thought?


DECISION: B+