"I'm still young and yet it sometimes seems to me that I've reached the autumn of my life." This tragic statement, taken from the diaries of Adele Hugo, daughter of Victor, is both the doomed statement of a young girl driven mad by love, and an ironic testament to the performance of a then 20 year old Isabelle Adjani. Francois Truffaut takes us back to 1863, with the American Civil War in full swing, and France and Great Britain still undecided in participation. Young Adele Hugo arrives at a camp in Nova Scotia seeking out her great love Lieutenant Pinson (Bruce Robinson), who she had embarked on a love affair with and whose potential marriage had been frowned upon.
What may have become a rather frustrating depiction of a desperate woman in love, Truffaut takes special care to create an air of Greek tragedy, as we witness the emotional deterioration of our protagonist, and her desperate pursuit of the unwilling Lieutenant Pinson. Adjani, simply unnervingly beautiful (seriously, how do the French keep doing it?), gives everything to the role. Adele herself, as depicted in the picture, is a time-bomb of emotions, giving every ounce of her strength into the tidal wave of pure love she feels - possibly a result of her father's grand romantic poems and novels - so anything less from Adjani wouldn't haven't done Adele justice.
This is a different kind of work to what I've previously seen from Truffaut - I'm more familiar with his New Wave productions. Adele H. is filmed in dark lighting, acting almost like a character itself signifying the darkness clouding in Adele's emotional torment. Victor Hugo's presence can be felt throughout the film, although he is never seen. Adele's story was taken from her diaries and the frequent letters she wrote to her parents, both of whom were concerned for her well-being. She attempts to keep her identity a secret, but friends are shocked when they uncover her secret, and the film works almost as a testament to Victor Hugo, a bow to his sheer immensity. But whether this is an ode to tragic intellectualism, or a human story that grabbed Truffaut's heart, I'll never know, but this is a gently haunting tale, and one that will make you want to personally open the eyes of Adele to the possibilities that are all around her, were she not so swept away by madness and love.
"We've gone on holiday by mistake!". This line, spoken by Richard E. Grant's flamboyant and tragic alcoholic Withnail, sums up this cult British masterpiece. Made on a shoe-string budget (partly funded by George Harrison), Withnail & I has gained momentum in the last decade or so, and is now considered a British classic and certainly one of the greatest comedies made in the last thirty years or so. It tells the story of two hard-drinking, out-of-work thespians living in their filthy London flat awaiting that call from their agent that will inevitably break them. Tired and consumed by the misery of 1969 London, 'I' (often referred to as 'Marwood', played by Paul McGann) persuades Withnail to travel to the remote cottage in the Lake District owned by Withnail's outlandishly homosexual Uncle Monty (Richard Griffiths).
The two city-dwellers struggle with survival, poverty and the aggression of the locals, until Monty arrives in a comical scene where the two think that a threatening poacher has broken in to kill them. Withnail is happy sponging off his Uncle while I remains terrified and uncomfortable at Monty's increasingly aggressive sexual advances. While this hardly sounds like a barrel of laughs, writer/director Bruce Robinson's script (based on his personal experiences) is chocked full of great, quotable lines, as well as genuinely beautiful wordplay. While the film has become the focus of many an annoying student who enjoy playing the 'Withnail Drinking Game', I refuse to let this ruin my absolute love for this truly stunning film.
While the comedy is what it is ultimately remembered for, Withnail & I is also a sober and quite depressing portrayal of the death of 'the greatest decade known to man'. Danny the drug dealer (played brilliantly by Ralph Brown) sums it up when he says "they're selling hippy wigs in Woolworths, man." 'I' is truly disillusioned by his surroundings, and often the film feels like a massive comedown from the colossal high of the 1960's. This is apparent straight away, as the first scene depicts 'I' slumped on a chair, his eyes tired and red after a massive speed binge, painfully toking down a joint while the soundtrack plays a wailing saxophone.
But Withnail & I is remembered for it's comedy for a reason. There are literally too many great lines to quote, but my personal favourites have to be "why has my head gone numb?"/""why'd you drug their onions!?"/"here, hare, here? Here, hare, here!"/"flowers are merely tarts, prostitutes for the bees!"/"fork it!"/"we're going to buy this place, and install a fucking jukebox in here, liven you stiffs up a bit!". I'll stop now, as I can literally quote the entire film. These lines, as great as they are, wouldn't be half as good if they didn't have great actors saying them. Grant always gets the plaudits (and considered he is teetotal, his performance is truly great), but Paul McGann's equally impressive performance is understated and ultimately underrated. And Griffiths injects an air of tragedy into the nostalgia-filled and lonely Monty, who poetically remembers his times at Oxford when his life was once full of excitement and feeling.
I could literally talk about this film for hours, I love it that much. Every time I see it I notice another visual gag, another verbal joke, or another line of beauty that I failed to grasp the previous times. And never has a film moved me so much every time I view it, when, at the climax, Withnail quotes Hamlet while slumped over a railing, wine bottle in hand, rain hammering onto his umbrella. Truly exquisite, exciting, personal film-making, and one that will forever remain one of my personal favourites.
Up-and-coming short story writer Peter (Bruce Robinson) meets pretty young secretary Ann (Susan Penhaligon) at the publishing house. Shunning her rather old-fashioned parents, Ann begins an intense love affair with Peter and the two seem to spend all their time together. Peter's laid back lifestyle and bohemian friends seems to appeal to Ann, who has been raised in mainly middle-class surroundings. The two head off to the country where they seem to grow bored of each other, and Ann gets pregnant. Peter doesn't really care about the novel he's been told to write but is forced to get a steady job to support the unborn child.
If my description doesn't exactly grip you with it's exciting synopsis, I don't blame you. Private Road is really as laid back as its young characters. It's the kind of film which will disappoint if you're expecting a straight-forward beginning, middle and end - but, if you allow what plays out just to wash over you, then it's profoundly moving, sweet, and funny. I don't usually take to bohemian types, but Bruce Robinson's (writer of Withnail & I (1987)and The Killing Fields (1984)) natural charm, and the lack of self-awareness that plagues the Facebook generation warmed me to the characters.
One film that Private Road really brought to mind was Harold And Maude (1971). Although it's not as blatantly comic or quite as dark, the film does have a subtle comic undertone that plays out throughout, usually in the conversations between Peter and his friend Stephen (played by the brilliant Michael Feast). It almost has a feel of Withnail & I (without being quite as clever). It also has a serious note when Stephen becomes a heroin addict, played with an amazing realism by Feast. The naturalistic wordplay and the nice soundtrack add up to make this the only BFI Flipside release that I've really enjoyed. Recommended!
What may have become a rather frustrating depiction of a desperate woman in love, Truffaut takes special care to create an air of Greek tragedy, as we witness the emotional deterioration of our protagonist, and her desperate pursuit of the unwilling Lieutenant Pinson. Adjani, simply unnervingly beautiful (seriously, how do the French keep doing it?), gives everything to the role. Adele herself, as depicted in the picture, is a time-bomb of emotions, giving every ounce of her strength into the tidal wave of pure love she feels - possibly a result of her father's grand romantic poems and novels - so anything less from Adjani wouldn't haven't done Adele justice.
