Perfume V
02-25-2003, 07:01 AM
(Originally posted on IMDb.com)
The bottom line is, if you don't like this film, I will start to view you with the utmost suspicion.
It's hard - nay, impossible - to dislike Withnail & I. That said, you can see why it was a flop initially. A low-budget British film, released during an era of scepticism about British films after the Chariots of Fire (1984) team failed to do much else of note, starring then-unknown actors with a rambling 'plot' about two alcoholic actors going into the countryside, then - gasp! - coming back?! Wow! Theatres must have been packed!
Then, slowly, it grew and grew, spreading to other countries as well. But its cult remains strongest in Britain. You can go to any town or village in any part of the country and find at least one person who venerates Withnail & I. You can find them abroad, too - David Fincher included a subtle nod to Withnail and Marwood's relationship (Marwood being the titular "I", named in the script but not in the film) in his masterful Fight Club (1999).
Beyond that homage, Withnail and Fight Club are as different as can possibly be. Whereas Fincher's movie is deliberately hyperbolic and aggressive, Robinson's may be the most understated, softly-spoken comedy ever made. Herein lies its charm - most of its funniest moments fail to reveal themselves until the third, fourth or fifth viewing. (Most of them are also quoted to death by Withnail bores like me, but don't let that put you off. You'll understand what all the fuss is about when you see them in context)
I remember two people writing in to my local cinema, demanding that Withnail & I be screened for their friend's birthday. (Note: Since I wrote this review, I've remembered how they worded their demand: "We want the finest film available to humanity, we want it here, and we want it now..." Says it all, really.) They got what they wanted, too. People who love film understand the spell that Withnail & I casts on you.
The word that describes Withnail & I best is "elegiac". The opening song, a mournful cover of Procul Harum's "A Whiter Shade Of Pale", is exquisitely mournful; apparently the artist who recorded it was stabbed to death just after he finished playing. It is set at the end of a decade, and the idiotic Danny has a surprisingly insightful speech towards the end about the demise of 60s culture. Its ending is as melancholic as any ever attempted in comedy. And the fortunes of the cast and crew just adds another layer of bittersweet warmth to the film.
Richard E Grant, Paul McGann, Richard Griffith, Ralph Brown and Michael Elphick (RIP) all went on to variable successes in film and TV. Bruce Robinson - possibly the greatest living Englishman, in my book - faded quietly, as much a victim of his own self-doubt as anything. Gloriously, he still lives the life of Withnail, relaxing in his country home between bouts of writing and increasingly rare acting (he was in Zeffirelli's magisterial Romeo and Juliet, not to mention Truffaut's L'histoire d'Adele H with Isabelle Adjani), never without a dangling cigarette and a bottle of wine. He really is the king of elegant Englishness. Long may he reign.
The bottom line is, if you don't like this film, I will start to view you with the utmost suspicion.
It's hard - nay, impossible - to dislike Withnail & I. That said, you can see why it was a flop initially. A low-budget British film, released during an era of scepticism about British films after the Chariots of Fire (1984) team failed to do much else of note, starring then-unknown actors with a rambling 'plot' about two alcoholic actors going into the countryside, then - gasp! - coming back?! Wow! Theatres must have been packed!
Then, slowly, it grew and grew, spreading to other countries as well. But its cult remains strongest in Britain. You can go to any town or village in any part of the country and find at least one person who venerates Withnail & I. You can find them abroad, too - David Fincher included a subtle nod to Withnail and Marwood's relationship (Marwood being the titular "I", named in the script but not in the film) in his masterful Fight Club (1999).
Beyond that homage, Withnail and Fight Club are as different as can possibly be. Whereas Fincher's movie is deliberately hyperbolic and aggressive, Robinson's may be the most understated, softly-spoken comedy ever made. Herein lies its charm - most of its funniest moments fail to reveal themselves until the third, fourth or fifth viewing. (Most of them are also quoted to death by Withnail bores like me, but don't let that put you off. You'll understand what all the fuss is about when you see them in context)
I remember two people writing in to my local cinema, demanding that Withnail & I be screened for their friend's birthday. (Note: Since I wrote this review, I've remembered how they worded their demand: "We want the finest film available to humanity, we want it here, and we want it now..." Says it all, really.) They got what they wanted, too. People who love film understand the spell that Withnail & I casts on you.
The word that describes Withnail & I best is "elegiac". The opening song, a mournful cover of Procul Harum's "A Whiter Shade Of Pale", is exquisitely mournful; apparently the artist who recorded it was stabbed to death just after he finished playing. It is set at the end of a decade, and the idiotic Danny has a surprisingly insightful speech towards the end about the demise of 60s culture. Its ending is as melancholic as any ever attempted in comedy. And the fortunes of the cast and crew just adds another layer of bittersweet warmth to the film.
Richard E Grant, Paul McGann, Richard Griffith, Ralph Brown and Michael Elphick (RIP) all went on to variable successes in film and TV. Bruce Robinson - possibly the greatest living Englishman, in my book - faded quietly, as much a victim of his own self-doubt as anything. Gloriously, he still lives the life of Withnail, relaxing in his country home between bouts of writing and increasingly rare acting (he was in Zeffirelli's magisterial Romeo and Juliet, not to mention Truffaut's L'histoire d'Adele H with Isabelle Adjani), never without a dangling cigarette and a bottle of wine. He really is the king of elegant Englishness. Long may he reign.