Ernst sein ist alles

Oscar Wilde's most famous play is given an extremely stage-bound reading in this colour adaptation by Anthony Asquith. It evens starts and ends with the raising and lowering of a theatre curtain!

That aside this is probably the essential Wilde movie – not only do we get the main four role perfectly cast (Michael Redgrave as Jack, Michael Denison as Algy, Dorothy Tutin as Cecily, Joan Greenwood as Gwendolen), we also have two of the most delightfully eccentric portrayals in the history of cinema with Margaret Rutherford as Miss Prism, and, of course, Edith Evans as Lady Bracknell. Who could resist the way Dame Edith says ‘a handbag!'

A hugely enjoyable movie which makes sure none of the wit is lost in unnecessary padding or setting – something the makers of the recent remake could learn from.

I watched this film adaptation (and Oliver Parker's 2002 version as well) of Oscar Wilde's classic play The Importance of Being Earnest to complement my study of it for a 19th century English drama course. First I want to say, no matter what version(s) you choose to see, I strongly suggest you read the play first (its not that long). In some cases, the casting in the later film (specifically Reese Witherspoon as Cecily and Rupert Everett as Algy), made fifty(!) years later to be exact, seemed more appropriate but in my opinion Asquith's version captured the spirit of the text more succinctly. I must also say as well, however that since Asquith's version is essentially a staged play, there is little in the form of visual dynamism from the camera; in other words the film rests almost entirely on the strength of the performances. Happily, they do not disappoint.

In the country, Jack has a large home, an 18-year-old ward, Cecily, to look after and is very serious. But in the city he is Earnest – a young wag with a dastardly reputation and a good friend in the shape of fellow bachelor Algy. However when he wants to marry his urban love Gwendolen he meets opposition from her guardian Lady Bracknell. Jack tells Gwendolen where his rural home is – and Algy overhears. Enticed by Jack's description of his ward Cecily, Algy travels to Jack's home and poses as his made up brother Earnest. However the arrival of Gwendolen puts the cat among the pigeons in a most frightful way that can only be resolved with delightful charm and wit (and some good fortune).

On the very day of Wilde's 150th birthday I decided that it seemed a perfectly reasonable time to rewatch one of his most famous works and sat to watch the most famous film version of Earnest. From the stage bound set up, this film opens up into proper sets, but it is not the background that opens up the film but the light and wonderful dialogue. I will not go into any more detail on the quality of the script because that stands for itself – that, well over 100 years later, I can still watch it and laugh is testament to its quality. The delivery of the film does it justice, even if (ironically enough) the film does feel rather stuck on a stage – certainly in comparison to the 2002 remake. This is understandable given the film's age but it does make the film feel a little constrained, but fortunately the wonderful dialogue gives it wings. Of course some people will not like the film for this reason as they prefer their humour to be more of the American Pie variety (nothing wrong with that) but for me I love the wit and fun it delivers.

Of course the cast is a major part of the delivery and the majority of them really do well with their roles. Redgrave is enjoyable and delivers his lines well even if he has the least colourful of the main characters. Denison is much more colourful and enjoys his smooth and rather caddish role with some relish and is enjoyable in support. Evans provides a most memorable character and also has some of the most celebrated lines (including the immortal and well-delivered 'a handbag?'). Of course stealing the film is usually the job of Margaret Rutherford, but she doesn't do that here despite still playing to her usual form. Greenwood and Tutin are OK and have plenty of good lines between them; they are little stilted at times but in some regards this is part of who they are – very proper and slightly absurd characters.

Overall this is a wonderfully light little film but one that would sadly struggle to make an impact at the box office if it were to be re-released today. Many will find the lack of big obvious belly laughs to be a problem but if you do then I would simply say you're watching the wrong movie and should try something you're more accustom to. For me the script is a classic foundation for some nice direction (despite the set bound production) and some great delivery from a talented cast all combine to make this the very model of wit and whimsy, the likes of which we do not see often enough any more.

Oscar Wilde's celebrated masterpiece is a comedy on three levels. First there is the denotative level, one might say, the level in which the bourgeois are entertained après dîner. It is on this level that Oscar Wilde follows the great theatrical tradition of comedy from the time of the Greeks through Shakespeare and French farce into the twentieth century to the musical comedy of the London and New York stage. His play on this level is a comedy of manners, pleasant, charming and very clever. The class conscious jokes about the lower orders and the servants are double-edged and add just a touch of squirm to the laughter of the not completely discerning audience. It is on the second level that The Importance of Being Earnest becomes one of the greatest plays ever written. On this level, the comedy is a full blown satire of Victorian society, and in particular of its audience. Wilde had the very great pleasure of flattering and making fun of the audience while being applauded for doing so. His subtitle for the play, "A Trivial Comedy for Serious People" is an allusion to these two levels. It is on this second level that Wilde speaks through the voice of Lady Bracknell (and sometimes Algernon), whose ironic and unself-conscious cynicism is so like his own. It is on this level that all the fun is made of the hypocrisy of marriage and its mercenary nature, at least as practiced by the petite bourgeoisie of London town, circa 1895. But there is a third level, a level known of course to the cognoscenti of the time and to modern audiences, but for the most part never dreamed of by the London theater-goers of the day. In this regard I have recently read that "Earnest" was a slang euphemism for being gay, and I suspect this is true. Indeed, I can imagine a whole world of witticism based on being "earnest" and being "Ernest," a world now (perhaps charitably) forgotten. Certainly this knowledge sheds some light on Jack's invention of his invalid friend "Bunbury," whom he finds he must visit to escape unwanted social engagements.

One of the best things about this great play is one can appreciate it on any one of the three levels and find delight on that level alone. One can see Worthy as John Worthy, or as Jack Worthy, or as Ernest Worthy, however one likes. This adaptation, starring the incomparable Dame Edith Evans as Lady Bracknell, and Michael Redgrave (father of Vanessa and Lynn Redgrave) as John Worthy is of course the justly celebrated, clearly definitive screen adaptation. It should be noted, however, that Lady Bracknell is the real star of the show, and when she enters a scene, she steals it. Edith Evans was brilliant and unforgettable and obviously having a wonderful time. Margaret Rutherford is a scream as Miss Prism and Miles Malleson as Chasuble is just, shall I say, darling. I should note that both the male leads were a touch too old for their parts. Redgrave was 42 and Michael Denison, who played Algernon, was 37 when the movie was released in 1952. Yet I think Oscar Wilde would have approved of the casting, probably finding it admirable and fitting that these two men about town would have avoided marriage for so many years. (I won't mention the ages of the actresses.) Joan Greenwood as Gwendolyn achieves just the right amount of flaky innocence and calculated whimsy, while Dorothy Tutin is the very definition of the spoiled, sweet and adorable, man-hunting Cecily Cardew. The direction by Anthony Asquith is unnecessarily directive in the sense that he moved some scenes around, but is essentially without harm.

The best way to appreciate this play, and to pick up all the nuances, and there are nuances aplenty--and jokes upon jokes, sharp social and political observations, and witticisms within prevarications, and lies that are truths and vice-versa--is to view the video, just appreciating it on one level, then read the script, and then view the video again. You're in for a treat.

(Note: Over 500 of my movie reviews are now available in my book "Cut to the Chaise Lounge or I Can't Believe I Swallowed the Remote!" Get it at Amazon!)

I haven't yet seen the 2002 theatrical film version of Wilde's classic, perhaps because I can't see how anyone, not even Judi Dench, could improve upon Dame Edith Evans's immortal portrayal of that deathless battle-axe, Lady Bracknell. And then there's Margaret Rutherford and Miles Malleson wittily playing characters that fitted them to a "T." Not to mention the unctuously delicious Joan Greenwood, whose line readings caress one's ears like the aural equivalent of a framboise liqueur. Dorothy Tutin was a perfect wise-for-her-young-years ingenue. But the men, in my view, were merely serviceable, with Michael Denison, especially, somewhat of an annoyance. The Technicolor mounting, deliberately stagey, was eye candy of the best sort, like an extravagantly decorated old-fashioned box containing the sort of confections one would savor to the very last morsel. Great fun!