Welcome to Stuart Fernie’s Blog
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Reflections on a variety of films and topics - Seven Samurai, It's a Wonderful Life, Don Quixote, We're no angels, War for the planet of the apes, Dunkirk, The African Queen, Babette's Feast, Dances with Wolves, The Prisoner (1967), Inherit the wind, humour in drama, nature of regret, the influence of multimedia, memoirs of a teacher of French.
Wednesday, 17 December 2025
Introduction
Reflections on "Sweet Smell of Success" (1957)
Reflections on “Sweet Smell of Success”
(1957)
Directed by Alexander Mackendrick
Screenplay by Clifford Odets and
Ernest Lehman
starring Burt Lancaster and Tony
Curtis
Although the film is ostensibly about a newspaper columnist, his influence and the lengths to which people will go to curry favour, the underlying criticism can be applied to any number of areas – anywhere where individuals put their own careers, needs and desires above law, principle and common humanity, and given recent political and media events, I would say this film is as relevant as ever…
“Sweet Smell of Success” is the story of one man’s power and influence (illusory but accepted by others), his selfish abuse of that power, and the grasping attempts of others to flatter, please or weasel their way into his field of influence.
It offers a shattering picture of the media and the ways in which newspapers (and now television, radio and social networking sites) can make or break careers and lives without necessarily respecting fact and truth. This amoral and self-righteous attitude is personified by J. J. Hunsecker (played by Burt Lancaster).
Hunsecker is a callous, unforgiving and intolerant man accustomed to passing judgement and manipulating the response of others to individuals. Of course, he has no right to do what he does, but he is given leeway perhaps because those in a position to stop him feel they might become the next victims of his intolerance.
In good part, this is the responsibility of the whole of society in that “they” decide what is acceptable or not, but in the meantime, until mood and attitude change, there are those who would follow Hunsecker’s example, accept the status quo and try to turn it to their personal advantage.
Sidney Falco (played by Tony Curtis) is one such hustler. A publicity man acting on behalf of his clients, but also in his own interests, Sidney reluctantly agrees to become involved in Hunsecker’s blatant fabrications for his own ends, paying no heed to the pain and suffering caused by his actions.
This cynical turning away from principle, truth and “decency” toward base manipulation of facts for their own ends shows there are few heroes here – only guys caught up in the existential battle for survival and the imposition of one’s own will.
Only two of the characters, Hunsecker’s sister Susie and her boyfriend Steve, show decency and a respect for truth and sincerity, and they are portrayed as hopelessly outnumbered and inadequate in face of the number of hustlers and the sheer scale of their machinations. Every other character has something shady to hide – a reason why they have sought favours from others and why they now owe favours.
This is a world of shady dealings behind a façade of glitter and respectability. Everyone conceals truth and plays on what it would cost the individual were the truth to be revealed. J. J. Hunsecker appears to be the only one to openly accept this and call a spade a spade, and this may be why he rules the rumour roost, a position he maintains through his cold and calculating use of information gathered by lackeys. Indeed, his problems begin only when he allows things to become personal and he interferes in his beloved kid sister’s relationship, and when he starts to see himself as the righteous figure whose position he has adopted rather than an ordinary man filling that position.
Sidney Falco, on the other hand, remains an underling, but one who aspires to Hunsecker’s hallowed position and “greatness”. He plays games with the lives of all those he meets, to some extent in order to further their careers, but he is overwhelmingly motivated by what he can gain for himself in so doing. That said, we feel there may still be a glimmer of humanity in Sidney as he is clearly uncomfortable with the lengths to which he is being invited to go, yet he caves in when offered what he regards as the ultimate reward – a column of his own. In the end, however, he must turn to the truth to save himself as he learns how it feels to be a victim of manipulation and deceit.
The script bristles with wit and wisdom while maintaining a remarkable pace, and Mackendrick’s direction is simply superb as he fills the screen with fake light and glitter while surrounded by darkness. It is a relief to see Susie emerge into natural light in the end, crossing the road toward sunshine! There is no let-up in the pace and Mackendrick helps to coax great and varied performances from his actors.
Burt Lancaster is the tower of uncompromising strength of self-belief required at the centre of this film. Without such a cold, manipulative, but above all intelligent and indomitable performance, there would be no film. Hunsecker is the warning, the self-righteous thing to avoid, while Sidney Falco is the wannabe in gestation – a character for whom you may feel contempt, yet he retains a glimmer of hope and humanity, and as such he is played brilliantly by Tony Curtis. Curtis’s performance (oily, manipulative, but with that trace of human hesitation and truth that allow the viewer to see the doubt in his mind) should be considered one of the greatest in film history.
All told, this is a wonderful combination of script, direction and performance to tell a tale of how personal advancement may be achieved at the expense of others, and how principle and truth may also fall victim to that ambition.
The film was, at the time of its release in 1957, a
complete flop and caused considerable damage to the careers of several of the
participants. It has since gained a phenomenal and well-deserved reputation as
a film classic, and was even chosen for preservation in the United States Film
Registry as being “culturally, historically or aesthetically significant”.
My thanks for taking the time to read this article. I hope you found it of some value.
Stuart Fernie (stuartfernie@yahoo.co.uk)
Reflections on "Rollerball" (1975 and 2002)
Reflections on "Rollerball" (1975)
Directed by Norman Jewison
Screenplay by William Harrison
Starring James Caan, John Beck, John
Housemen and Maud Adams
In the early to mid-twenty-first century, Rollerball is a game which has replaced war and which provides an outlet for feelings of aggression and violence, and which, most importantly, is designed to show that no individual is greater than the whole. Team work is essential with each player accepting his place and working toward the greater good. Jonathan E (James Caan) has lasted longer than any other player in the sport. His career has spanned ten years during which he has established many records and, crucially, something of a following as a cult hero.
Life in general has become ordered and comfortable - the only price citizens are asked to pay is that they should accept without question executive decisions. Society is managed by a series of corporations, run by anonymous, wealthy and extremely powerful suited executives who put up a facade of acceptability, respectability and dignity to cover control and corruption.
Jonathan is pressed to retire and he doesn't understand why, so he resists and uncovers some unpleasant truths about society and the way it is run.
Men are seen as fairly high-minded, asexual, power-hungry conformists who are afraid to disagree or make waves, while women are by and large reduced to the status of playthings for whom relationships are "assignments", constituting an essential element of control and manipulation by corporate society.
Jonathan is the responsibility of Mr Bartholomew (John Houseman), and their conversations are charged with menace and eventually threat, subtle to begin with, but becoming quite unsubtle as desperation sets in because Jonathan is seen as a threat whose actions emphasise the importance of the individual, and who is seen as having a potential influence that could challenge that of corporate society.
There is a considerable contrast between the pace and style of the scenes within the rollerball dome and those out with it. Often criticised as dull and "boring", these scenes are nonetheless absolutely essential to the import of the piece and to truly understanding it. The "society" scenes are deliberately sterile and dull, contrasting with the action and excitement of rollerball, and giving the audience a taste of barren and dreary corporate existence.
The dull but dangerous reality of corporate society is brilliantly captured in the interview between Bartholomew and Jonathan after the first match. As Jonathan enters the comfortable but dull "office", he touches the decorative strands descending from the ceiling, only to cut his finger. In many ways, the discussion that follows sums up the film, with Jonathan resisting politely but firmly while Bartholomew appears reasonable but determined. Of course, the disagreement will carry over into action in the rollerball dome.
The greatest pressure on Jonathan to conform will come in the shape of deadly rule changes to the game, until in the end it becomes a barely disguised assassination attempt. Since no individual is to be seen as greater than the game, the game must destroy him.
Along the way, there are several other criticisms of
the way in which life may develop under a corporate umbrella. With his
ex-wife’s visit, Jonathan realises she is no longer the person he loved, but
even more importantly, he realises the extent to which the individual has lost
his or her freedom. He discovers that there are no longer any books, and that
all information from books is stored centrally in a computer which has become
"subjective" and so cannot discriminate adequately to give a clear
answer to a simple question. Of course, there is also the destruction of the
trees which indicates a decadent society devoted to business and indulgent pleasure
showing scant appreciation of nature and beauty.
When it comes to the last game, the corporations underestimate Jonathan, and man's need for a hero or a role-model, leading inexorably to the cult of the individual and the potential breakdown of corporate society as they see it.
Rather ironically, their aim would probably have
eventually been fulfilled without their efforts to ensure the outcome, and
indeed it is exactly because of their efforts that Jonathan becomes an even
greater hero and threatens their order.
Rollerball (2002)
Directed by John McTiernan
Screenplay by Larry Ferguson and John Pogue
Starring Rebecca Romijn, Chris Klein and
Jean Reno
Oh dear.
This version of "Rollerball" is youthful, exuberant and polished. It is also chaotic, shallow and inconsistent even within itself.
The scale and import of the original are gone. Rollerball has now become a game to attract huge television audiences and consequently to attract advertisers and money.
It is actually tiring to watch this version as we jump from one action scene to another but without the advantage of seeing character growth, plot development or purpose.
Even the rollerball dome is over elaborate and complex. There is plenty of action, but it is hard to tell the teams apart, far less tell who is winning or feel involved in any way.
At first, I thought this might have been done deliberately, in order to contrast with some genuine interest and development when a player was hurt. Unfortunately, there was something of a build-up to nothing as characters were not affected by trauma beyond a few seconds.
This production actually seemed camp, so devoid was it
of discipline and any serious intent.
My thanks for
taking the time to read this article. I hope you found it of some value.
Stuart Fernie (stuartfernie@yahoo.co.uk)
Characters and themes in "The Professionals" (1966)
Reflections
on characters and themes in "The Professionals"
Written
and directed by Richard Brooks from a novel by Frank O’Rourke
Starring
Lee Marvin, Burt Lancaster, Robert Ryan, Woody Strode,
Jack
Palance and Claudia Cardinale
This film is a
wonderful example of the combination of entertainment and reflection. The
characters are nicely fleshed out and are played to perfection by the cast.
Although it contains reflective, even philosophical passages on life and death,
it always remains positive and entertaining – a rare feat!
Working on several
levels, this late period western adventure presents us with the story of four
expert mercenaries hired to find and return the kidnapped wife (Maria, played
by Claudia Cardinale) of an ageing oil baron, J.W. Grant (Ralph Bellamy).
Rico Fardan (Lee
Marvin) and Bill Dolworth (Burt Lancaster) are the central characters as they
confront a former revolutionary colleague, Jesus Raza (Jack Palance), who
apparently kidnapped Mrs Grant. Rico and Bill join with Hans Ehrengard (Robert
Ryan) and Jake Sharp (Woody Strode) to undertake the mission. Though of
significantly different temperaments, these men work together as a team –
indeed together they form a whole, with Rico the cool and reasoned leader, Bill
the strength and spirit, Hans showing compassion and thought, and Jake skilful,
determined and unquestioning. Each will play his part in the completion of the
mission, though there are minor disagreements on the way, emphasising, perhaps,
the need for different approaches in the solution of any problem, whether by a
group or an individual.
It is clear from
the outset these are rugged, experienced and determined men who may be
disillusioned, but they are not cynical or heartless. They appear to be lacking
in purpose and perhaps even a place in society, and although they undertake the
mission principally for money, it is also because this is a "mission of
mercy" and a challenge to their professional capacities.
Raza, on the other
hand, is painted as a ruthless and heartless killer – an impression confirmed
by our heroes’ first encounter with his murderous men, and then compounded by
our first sighting of him as he callously shoots soldier prisoners in the back.
Having already
mixed rugged action scenes with questions concerning the group’s willingness to
kill men (contrasted with their desire to spare the lives of a group of
horses), it is at this point that director Richard Brooks starts to introduce
his "subtext", calling in to question our judgement of what is right
and wrong, and perhaps even more broadly questioning our motives for
involvement in a cause.
Just after we (and
our heroes) are appalled by Raza’s cold-blooded murder of his prisoners, we are
informed by Dolworth that his victims are in fact members of an elite squad of
killers and torturers who were responsible for the death of Fardan’s wife, causing
us to doubt our own evaluation of the situation and leading us to realise that
the situation is far more morally complex than we might have thought.
It is also at this
point that we are introduced to a concept which is essential to understanding
the film – when Dolworth talks of his role in the "revolution", and
how it became hard to tell who were the good guys and who were the bad guys. This
idea that "right" and "wrong" may not exist, and that each
"side" fights for what it believes in, ultimately using methods to
advance their cause which may lead to a blurring of the divisions between the
two is quite fundamental to the "message" of the film.
Much is made of
the "revolution", particularly in the scenes between Raza and
Dolworth during the pursuit which follows Maria’s "rescue" from
Raza’s clutches.
In an illuminating
and yet entertaining exchange between Raza and Dolworth, the reasons for
involvement in the revolution, and the abandonment of it, are debated.
Philosophically speaking, these scenes form the cornerstone of the entire film.
The revolution may
be viewed as a stand for principle in which (at least in the beginning) each
"side" fights for what it believes in. In keeping with the principles
of existentialism, right and wrong do not exist – there are only sides opposing
one another, each fighting for its cause and each offering its own account of
events and the "truth". It is recognised that men will become
disillusioned and abandon their cause, but Raza suggests they will return to it
as they feel the need to believe in something, and wish to give their lives
purpose and value.
Rico and his
compadres are such men. They have become disillusioned and have accepted this
job for money (the "professionals" of the title), yet in the end they
make a stand for principle at the expense of their fee, but to the credit of
their sense of honour and self-esteem. Having been manipulated by one man’s
account of events and also by the lure of wealth, they committed the very act
that was so heavily criticised at the start of the film, but they manage to
leave with a renewed sense of worth and purpose.
That the whole
takes place in desperately unsparing desert conditions while men scat around in
an attempt to give their lives meaning may also be viewed as evidence of a
somewhat existential outlook, and it is not unlike the inhospitable setting of
Clouzot’s "Wages of Fear" in which men also put their lives at risk
in an attempt to give them a purpose.
Given the
background and philosophical nature of several of the scenes, the film might
easily have become deadly serious or ponderous but Brooks manages to combine
reflections on life, death, and principle with humour and a constant positive
attitude. Many allusions are made to pain and death, yet these characters have
little time for brooding regret, concentrating instead on fulfilment of the
task in hand. As an ex-marine, Brooks was perhaps well placed to provide us
with this exciting yet contemplative adventure which never ceases to accentuate
the positive and the fact that we give our lives meaning by virtue of fighting
for a cause we believe in, even if ultimately "right" and
"wrong" do not exist.
In the end,
however, the conclusion is that love is the governing factor. It is for love
that our heroes are dispatched to Mexico in the first place, it is for love
that Raza pursues the kidnapped Maria, and it might even be argued that it is
for love (of a cause) that Raza and his men fight the revolution. Even the
almost-cynical Bill Dolworth sees there is more to life than he imagined as the
result of recognising the power of love!
The performances
are excellent throughout, with each of the lead actors playing parts which seem
to have been made for them. Lee Marvin exudes the quiet controlled command of a
disillusioned (and even pained) professional, while Burt Lancaster looks like
he thoroughly enjoyed playing the life-loving Bill Dolworth who (re)discovers a
purpose beyond immediate gratification.
My thanks for taking the time
to read this article. I hope you found it of some value.
Stuart Fernie (stuartfernie@yahoo.co.uk)
Tuesday, 16 December 2025
Characters and themes in "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest"
Reflections on "One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s
Nest"
Directed by Milos Forman
Screenplay by Lawrence Hauben and Bo Goldman,
based on the novel by Ken Kesey
Starring Jack Nicholson, Louise Fletcher, William
Redfield et al.
For me,
"Cuckoo’s Nest" is concerned principally with the place of the
individual in society and the means by which certain elements of society seek
to impose order and exercise control, sometimes at the expense of the
individual’s (mental) health, but certainly at the expense of independence and
freedom.
The
hospital of the film/book is society in microcosm, with the patients displaying
(or representing) problems in coping with life and the pressures they feel in
the exercise of their social functions. However, it also represents the ways
(discreet and quite indiscreet) in which "society" applies pressure
on the individual to conform to what is regarded as the "norm" in
terms of behaviour and attitude.
An
essential point to note is that the story is not concerned with so-called
"lunatics". These men have not lost their minds – they are simply
having difficulty in coping with the problems and pressures thrown at them by
society. As such they inspire pathos, sympathy and compassion. More importantly
still, we could all succumb to similar pressures and end up in a similar
position.
Behind
the outwardly caring and helpful façade of (mental) health care lies a subtle
and widespread attempt to enforce compliance and acceptance of authority. This
is achieved not just through the clear manifestation of physical discipline and
control, but also (and more effectively) through the use of "therapy"
in which the analysis of a problem not only assumes the very existence of and
responsibility for such a problem, but actually promotes and aggravates it as
patients reflect and brood on their problems, doing nothing to diminish them
and instead blowing them out of all proportion.
Into
this centre comes Randall Patrick McMurphy (are we to read significance into
the initials RPM?), a highly sociable free spirit who seems to offer an
alternative to inward-dwelling reflection in the form of socialisation. He
treats his fellow inmates as equals, is not judgmental (beyond displaying human
and perfectly understandable frustration), accepting his new friends for what
they are and offering them the chance to forget their problems, or at least to
keep them in proportion as he involves them in one defiant scheme after
another.
In
contrast, Nurse Ratched is a tool of society, used to exercise order and
control. This she achieves less by direct confrontation and more by subtle
means such as playing on and maintaining character weaknesses, undermining
self-confidence, and constantly "rubbing salt in open wounds" through
therapy sessions, the consequence of which is to maintain the malleability and
suggestibility of her patients.
She may
represent any element of society which seeks to oppress or "depress"
other elements, rather than being seen merely as the instrument of bureaucratic
control. There are many who delight in the weaknesses of others and who derive
pleasure and strength from the torment they inflict. Nurse Ratched, and indeed
the entire hospital may be seen as representative of coercive and intolerant
elements of society at large.
Another
"message" to come out of the film is that we can change the structure
of our society – if we have the courage and determination to do so.
R. P.
McMurphy is one such determined man. He is a natural, highly sociable free
spirit who challenges Nurse Ratched’s authority because he resents by instinct
her frequently underhand tactics of maintaining authority. It is worth noting
that it is not so much order itself he rejects (he may even see the necessity
of some order), but more the ways in which order is achieved, and perhaps the
extremes to which Nurse Ratched is prepared to go.
His
determination and actions reflect a relatively simple man who is just what he
appears to be. He is open and has no "side". He is mischievous and
fun-seeking, yet he is thoughtful and sensitive to the condition and plight of
his fellow inmates. When he acts, he acts by nature rather than by reflection.
He fails to see the bigger picture and certainly does not consider matters of
principle. He acts simply according to his conscience and does what he feels is
right. Harding and the others would perhaps like to be able to act in this way,
but they have questioned themselves (and doubted themselves) to such an extent
that they have lost confidence and can no longer function as "normal"
members of society. McMurphy remains unfettered by such considerations and as
such represents a considerable challenge to the domineering elements of
society, though he himself fails to understand what he represents to both the
hospital administration and his fellow inmates.
It
seems to me that McMurphy means and does no great harm, but he is a constant
thorn in the side of the authorities as he doesn’t take life too seriously,
while those around him (authorities and inmates) appear to have created
problems for themselves exactly in taking life too seriously and allowing
matters to get out of proportion.
Nurse
Ratched appears to be caring and well intentioned – she may even believe that
in thwarting McMurphy’s plans for change and various other schemes she is
acting for the greater good of her patients. However, as McMurphy’s challenges
become ever more "dangerous", she shows her mettle and doesn’t flinch
from taking measures to ensure continued adherence to the rules. Indeed, it is
only at the end that we see just how far she will go to enforce her authority,
casting aside individual success and welfare merely in an effort to establish
her own position.
We do
not feel that Nurse Ratched is warm and caring. She is polite and pleasant, but
cold. This is a job she does well, but it remains that – a job. She fulfils her
function and is very proud of her position of authority, pride which leads her
to place her position above the well-being of her patients. So incensed is she
at the undermining of her position that she ignores the clear progress made by
Billy and sets about restoring her order – at the expense of Billy’s
improvement, indeed of his life.
The
film has been accused of being morally unambiguous compared to the book. In the
book Kesey cleverly used descriptions provided by the mentally ill Chief to
communicate atmosphere and a general sense of being "lost" and
hopelessness, but McMurphy’s arrival leads to clarity, hope and purpose. My
recollection of the book is not one of any particular moral ambiguity, indeed
the Chief’s "fog" implies disapproval of the "system",
though there may be more sympathy for, and an attempt to understand Nurse
Ratched, while in the film her character is hardly "explored", but is
rather a sort of gauge by which to judge the more rigid and blinkered aspects
of society. Nonetheless both the book and the film are clearly travelling in
the same direction, and the film script/performances may even have added
greater humanity and sympathy than were present in the book.
It has
been suggested, and I have frequently thought that McMurphy may be regarded as
an almost Christ-like figure.
Let us
consider some of the reasons for this:
McMurphy
challenges the status quo, and threatens to subvert authority.
He
"cures" the sick (by inspiring confidence, the lack of which has
caused most of the inmates’ problems).
His
fellow inmates may be regarded as his "disciples".
He is
"betrayed" by Billy, as Judas betrayed Jesus.
There
is a "last supper" of sorts.
McMurphy
dies for others’ "sins", or at least in trying to help them overcome
their "sins".
In
death, McMurphy inspires the others to believe in themselves and in something
greater than the imposed status quo.
Although
McMurphy dies, it is nonetheless a spiritually uplifting ending. His spirit
continues in the hearts and minds of his fellow inmates (and the audience),
especially the Chief who has grown in confidence enough to be able to escape
and live his own life. In death McMurphy’s spirit and inspiration have
developed well beyond any influence he might have been able to exercise as a
"patient".
The
film
Both
the script and direction managed to mix humour, pathos, tension, sociology, and
even (to some extent) religion! It had, of course, excellent base material by
Ken Kesey, but it was brilliantly brought to life (and perhaps even clarified
for some, though I can understand the various qualms expressed about the book
to film adaptation) with love and respect.
The
performances of the "lunatics" are uniformly excellent, and none more
than that of Jack Nicholson as McMurphy. The producers of the film were on
potentially dangerous ground given the context and the content of the film –
they could easily have fallen into sentimentality or might have created a
"cold" film about treatment of the mentally ill. As it is, our
emotions are fully engaged without drifting into sentimentality, and we feel
great sympathy and pathos for the characters. These characters could also quite
easily have been sacrificed to the themes of the film, but the script allows
the themes to arise from the conflict between the characters, rather than have
the characters illustrate the themes of the film.
It
would probably not have been too difficult to elicit sympathy through these
characters, nor to make a hero of a rebel in an unfair regime, but to achieve
this with humour, warmth, and above all in creating a depth of feeling and
caring for these people (and a genuine sense of shock and loss when McMurphy is
killed) is a marvelous achievement, and it is this emotional element (for which
all involved in the production should share credit) which elevates the material
to the highest level. Our emotional engagement allows what could have been a
dry or intellectual artistic exercise to evolve into a profoundly human tale of
love, tolerance and understanding.
I think
the music (by Jack Nitzsche) deserves a most honourable mention – not only does
it underline emotion, it enhances it and even creates in itself an emotional
response to a situation. I’m thinking particularly of the Chief’s escape where
the music captures loss, defiance, strength and nobility.
My
thanks for taking the time to read this article. I hope you found it of some
value.
Stuart Fernie (stuartfernie@yahoo.co.uk)
Reflections on "The Name of the Rose"
Reflections on “The Name of
the Rose”
Directed by Jean-Jacques
Annaud
Screenplay by Andrew Birkin,
Gérard Brach, Howard Franklin
and Alain Godard,
from the novel by Umberto Eco
Starring Sean Connery, F. Murray Abraham, Michael Lonsdale, Christian Slater
et al.
On the face of it a medieval whodunit (as Brother William of Baskerville investigates the deaths in mysterious circumstances of a number of monks), Annaud’s film of Eco’s book is an intriguing treatment of several themes including reason versus faith, the maintenance of ecclesiastical tradition and dogma, and of course what life itself was like in medieval times.
Medieval life
More than in any other film I can think of, the sets, costumes and lighting in “The Name of the Rose” contributed to the creation of a particular atmosphere – not just in terms of tension, revulsion or mystery, but in terms of recreating the “feel” of the time. You actually feel the discomfort and hardship of daily life. You become aware of what life was like, and this is not just as the background to a detective story – this is a vital and pervading element, one which seems to play as much a part in the proceedings as the development of the storyline and characters.
Monastic life
Naturally we focus on a look at life in a medieval monastery. We are given a sort of profile of the monks who inhabit this monastery. We see (and are rather taken aback by) those who are attracted to such a life. Although their individual stories are not provided, we see and hear enough to be able to impute their reasons for joining this order, and this is certainly not because they are necessarily devoted or devout. We meet bizarre characters who may be outcasts, or misfits who seek a place (somewhere) in society. This is certainly not some idealised view of monastic life. We see the problems they must face in terms of temptation, sexual repression, sexual orientation, faith and its numerous interpretations, relations with ordinary peasants (for whom “acts of charity” may consist of the release of bones and carcases to scrounging local inhabitants), and of course corruption (both moral and physical).
This reflects a class-ridden society where the underclass effectively paid for the upper class as they hold power – politically and morally, governing by fear and superstition while playing on the ignorance of the masses.
Education
Venerable Jorge (the chief librarian) is protective of, and wishes to uphold the position of saints and the church in general by “preserving” (and concealing) books he considers challenging to the authority and power of the church. In this case we are particularly concerned with Aristotle’s second book of poetics which looks at the use of comedy to arrive at an understanding of truth. Jorge keeps the volume hidden because the church’s position depends on fear and reverence, and by its very nature comedy removes that reverence, allowing readers to see people differently and perhaps even as they really are.
The church, at that time, wielded immense power and influence – financial, moral and political, and books which encouraged irreverence toward that institution and its position might lead to an undermining and disintegration of that position. The spread of ideas had to be carefully controlled since ignorance is power, and so Jorge took it upon himself to impregnate the pages with poison, therefore limiting the spread of the ideas contained in the book, and disguising the crimes to appear part of the apocalyptic curse, thus striking further fear into the minds and hearts of those around him.
It is interesting to note, however, that the ideas and knowledge contained in the books are nonetheless respected and valued more highly than the lives of men.
Reason
William of Baskerville uses logic and reason rather than resort to superstition and accusations of witchcraft to explain events. Here we see the beginnings of the age of reason, with its emphasis on experiential knowledge and a turning away from traditional idealism. We are witnessing the beginning of science and precision as opposed to magic and wild leaps of logic based on fear and ignorance.
Naturally this approach will bring William into conflict with the conformist Church and more particularly the Inquisition (in which failure to agree with the authorised view is regarded as heresy).
However, Bernardo Gui (an inquisitor) meets a grisly end as his pursuit of papal justice is perceived as contrary to “natural” justice and the peasants rebel against his decision to burn one of their number at the stake as a witch, thus reflecting a more general shying away from papal authority across Europe at the time.
It is essential to note that William does not reject his faith, but rather calls in to question the traditions, dogma and methods of the church in the shape of the Inquisition.
I thought the film was very well directed by Jean-Jacques Annaud in terms of the clarity with which he recounted a complex and difficult tale. Excellent use was made of sets etc. to produce an atmospheric and at times chilling mixture of murder mystery and an examination of various elements of conflict between faith and reason, and the very structure of society at that time.
There are one or two moments, however, when clarity gives way to jarring confusion as character movements don’t “flow” from one scene to the next – particularly in the odd “action” scene. Lack of planning? Poor editing? It does seem churlish to draw attention to one or two weaknesses given the strength of direction and performance everywhere else, but that is what makes these few jarring moments all the more surprising.
Given the subject matter (hardly standard material for a cinema thriller!), it is both directed and written with remarkable clarity overall – we know who each character is and see his/her development and how they fit into the overall story – quite a feat given the complexity of the original tale.
All the roles are well played, but special mention should be made of Ron Perlman who manages to convey repulsion, sympathy and humour in the character of Salvatore.
It is, however, undoubtedly Connery’s film as he gives an assured performance conveying his character’s intelligence, control, and confidence, yet also making him human with weaknesses and regrets. All this, and delivered with a knowing humour too.
It is quite surprising that, given the film’s dark and
relatively obscure themes, it did so well in Europe, though it did markedly
less well in the US where, I believe, it was marketed as some sort of crazy
comedy by distributors who showed little faith in the American public’s
interest in this tale of reason over myth, dogma and religious fervour.
My
thanks for taking the time to read this article. I hope you found it of some
value.
Stuart Fernie (stuartfernie@yahoo.co.uk)
Characters and themes in "The Man who would be King"
Reflections on characters and themes in "The Man
Who Would Be King"
Directed by John Huston
Written by John Huston and Gladys Hill
Based on the short story by Rudyard Kipling
Starring Sean Connery, Michael Caine and Christopher
Plummer
Based
on a short story by Rudyard Kipling, adapted and filmed by John Huston in 1975,
"The Man Who Would Be King" is a rousing and thought-provoking tale
set in India during the time of the British Empire. Huston lovingly produced a
work which is remarkably faithful to the original, and indeed clarifies and
enhances it with material not included in the original but which is entirely in
keeping with the spirit of both the characters and the themes.
In
roles originally intended for Clark Gable and Humphrey Bogart, Sean Connery and
Michael Caine positively dominate the screen as they recount the tale of Daniel
Dravot and Peachey Carnehan, two soldiers of fortune who set out to become
Kings of Kafiristan.
This is
the story of two charming and immensely likeable rogues who are not afraid to
make their mark on the world. They are untroubled by any existential
considerations, and are quite amoral yet courageous and, in their own way,
principled. They are self-centred and determined adventurers who recognise no
man-made authority and have little thought for those whose lives they touch,
but they are not evil and intend no real harm.
They
are a pair – they complement one another perfectly, with Peachey being the
practical, intelligent, cunning schemer, while Danny is magnetic,
"spiritual", and provides strength and thought for our duo. Together,
they represent a whole, and divided, each is weakened.
Our two
"heroes" have such faith in themselves that they are willing to
impose their will on others. In the grand scheme of things, they are indeed
"little" men, but little men with great ideas and an excess of
confidence and (admirable) spirit. The only authority they appear to respect is
that of Freemasonry (an organisation devoted to the brotherhood of man under
God’s principles). Both Peachey and Danny would do anything to help a fellow
Freemason, and of course one another, but otherwise they are largely their own
masters and are likely to come in to conflict with man-made laws.
Ultimately,
as a result of their self-confidence, daring, fate, and sheer luck, they
achieve their aim of becoming Kings while claiming divine authority. To Peachey
and Danny this is merely part of their scam, but playing on others’ deeply-held
religious convictions backfires on them as their "subjects" discover
their mortal nature and turn on them.
Here
the film touches on what I see as a basic truth, that man seems to need to
believe in something – to have something or someone as a role model to look up
to for direction and guidance. Although hardly devout believers, even Peachey
and Danny hold the principles of the Freemasons as sacrosanct. People want to
believe in their God, and while it suits Peachey and Danny to play up to that
instinct, if people are then let down by their "God", the
consequences can be awful.
Our
tale is treated very lightly up to the point where Danny begins to be convinced
of his own deity, at which point Peachey and Danny are quite out of their depth
and we see that real harm could come of the situation. Until then it is a fun
adventure with characters suffering fates they more or less deserved, but what
they now plan amounts to subversive interference and tampering with an entire
culture, and with that comes implied criticism of the colonial system.
"The
Man Who Would Be King" can be seen as a metaphor for the colonial system
of the nineteenth century (with particular reference to the British Empire),
and the imposition of one land’s "authority" over a
"foreign" land and its people. As stated in the film, the Empire was
indeed built on the efforts (and arrogance) of men such as Daniel Dravot and
Peachey Carnehan, and it is difficult not to succumb to the charm of these
rogues who manage to trample over others’ freedoms and rights while convincing
themselves (and their "victims") that they are doing them a service!
In
spite of the implied criticism of the arrogance of the colonial spirit, one
cannot help but admire the courage, tenacity, determination, and sheer cheek of
our two heroes. As already suggested, they mean no real harm and appear quite
unaware of their own shortcomings as they set about their scam, but will
ultimately pay a hefty price.
"The
Man Who Would Be King" is also a story of faith.
Faith,
as they say, can move mountains, and strength of spirit can help achieve
greatness, but that achievement may lead to (self) delusion. Excessive faith
and lack of self-doubt may lead to loss of a grip on reality and (in this case)
claims to divine authority, while showing scant regard for the welfare of
others.
Just as
Peachey and Danny were delighted to be accepted as Kings, so the Kafiris were
delighted to receive them as the vindication of their long-held faith. In a
similar way society takes ordinary people and, not content with lauding their
achievements, tries to deify them only to spurn them when they cannot live up
to what is (unfairly) expected of them.
This is
a wonderful and thought-provoking film full of humour, fun, adventure, and
ultimately reflections on history and the nature of various elements of
society.
John
Huston cunningly lets us enjoy Peachey and Danny’s company, sharing their
adventures and their aspirations before reminding us of the implications and
potential seriousness of what they are doing.
Connery
and Caine are simply perfect in their parts and are given excellent support by
the rest of the cast. It is perhaps a fairly "lean" story, but the
performances and Huston’s additions carry the whole off beautifully.
My
thanks for taking the time to read this article. I hope you found it of some
value.
Stuart Fernie (stuartfernie@yahoo.co.uk)
































