Reflections
on “Hobson’s Choice”
Directed
by David Lean
Screenplay
by David Lean, Norman Spencer and Wynard Browne
Based
on the play by Harold Brighouse
Starring
Charles Laughton, John Mills and Brenda de Banzie
“Hobson’s Choice” is a
deceptively simple tale which manages to say a great deal about the historical place
of women in society (contrasting with their true value) and the nature of
successful relationships in terms of marriage and business. It is a light-hearted
drama or affectionate satire which mocks and gently derides the capitalist and patriarchal
Victorian society of the late 1800s, or indeed any society in which figures of
authority exploit or abuse their staff or families, yet are dependent on their
efforts for their own wealth and success.
The main character,
bootmaker Henry Hobson, displays a haughty disregard for his employees whose
skills and efforts are requisite to and underpin his business, and this
attitude extends to the exploitation of his three daughters on whom he depends for
the successful running of his commercial interests but whose lives, careers and
loves are sacrificed to the maintenance of his own position and comfort. Henry
is somewhat selfish and self-indulgent, and refuses to recognise the essential
contribution made by oldest daughter Maggie to the success of his business,
except in the company of friends to whom he confides that she is too useful to
lose.
His two younger daughters
are keen to marry and have families of their own, principally to escape the
family home, but Maggie, insulted by her father’s dismissal of her marriage
prospects at the ripe old age of thirty, is driven not just to choose a partner
in life but also to teach her father a lesson in commerce and in parenting.
Apart
from presenting a decidedly feminist approach, playwright Brighouse and
director Lean also use this tale to explore the dawn of self-respect and
self-worth in the working classes whose skilled labour played an essential part
in the success of middle-class businesses. Will Mossop, Hobson’s highly
talented but taken for granted bootmaker is taught self-esteem, the value of merited
respect and eventually love by Maggie who sees his potential as a business and
life partner. It appears that marriage may be viewed not just as an idealistic
union of love-crossed individuals, but perhaps as a commercial partnership or
means of escape from social expectation to build one’s own life. As is so often
the case in stories of this nature, Will evolves as a result of Maggie’s
tutelage and interest – he requires her steady and intelligent vision to help
him fulfil his potential, but the consequences are mutually beneficial and
their relationship develops into a true, equal and loving partnership.
Given Henry’s apparent
slide into alcoholism and his attitudes, it struck me that he couldn’t have
built a successful business with such an outlook, and then I remembered his
wife died some years before. Could it be that his wife directed him in the same
way that Maggie will guide Will, and after her death Henry became a little
lost? His dependence on Maggie may reflect a similar dependence on his wife,
though, as with Maggie, he would never have admitted it. That would also
explain where Maggie gets her strength and determination from. Of course, the
two younger sisters don’t show the same characteristics but maybe that’s
because Maggie was older and had more time with her mother.
The film is made very
much in the style of gentle British social comedies of the time (the 1950s) and
is vaguely reminiscent of the style of Molière, the 17th century
French comic playwright who more or less invented comedic drama, specialising
in making serious points but using comedy rather than melodrama to make them.
Instead of inviting anger and indignation at the situations of the “victims”,
Brighouse and Lean make the antagonist the butt of humour and mockery while also
gently pointing out Will’s foibles, evolution and fulfilment in the hands of
the feminist and intelligent Maggie.
Presenting
the drama in this way has the effect of “battling from within” as the audience
is invited to recognise character strengths and weaknesses in a familiar and
engaging way rather than through dramatic extremes of unfamiliar and
exaggerated conflict and are therefore more likely to find it persuasive and
appealing. Essentially, comedy undermines while drama attacks.
The
comic tone of the piece is set from the very start with Malcolm Arnold’s
oh-so-catchy and comical theme tune – the audience knows instantly what tone to
expect and this is confirmed by Laughton’s playing for laughs. We are being
invited to relax and enjoy Brighouse and Lean’s pertinent observations on
society without tension, anxiety or melodrama.
That
said, the film makes serious points about the role of women in the structure of
society and in inspiring people (usually men) to achieve their potential.
Maggie is the backbone of her father’s business but, in keeping with the
position of women in society at that time, she received little or no
recognition for it. Her strength, determination and love inspire Will to
achieve far more than he would ever have done without her influence, yet she
would never have done so well without Will, either. She is the spirit while he
is the practical, and together they make a whole, yet her attitude seems to soften
as Will becomes more assertive and independent. Perhaps respect and affection
are augmented by pride as she sees the results of her labours.
As
a result of Maggie’s cunning intervention, Henry is left with no real choice
and is forced to provide financial settlements for his younger daughters’
marriages, and to recognise the value of Will’s contribution to his business.
With Will, he forms what amounts to a commercial union between capitalist
management and skilled workforce, with each element receiving recognition for
the value of their input. Perhaps Brighouse saw this formula as something
business ventures across the country could aspire to…
Sharply and knowingly directed
by David Lean, “Hobson’s Choice” is beautifully acted by all involved but
particular credit must go to Charles Laughton who manages to maintain audience sympathy
for the very character who is also the target of derision, and John Mills who
conveys innocence, vulnerability and nascent self-respect with consummate ease
and charm.
My thanks for taking the
time to read this article. I hope you found it of some value.
Stuart Fernie (stuartfernie@yahoo.co.uk)
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