Junger Mann aus gutem Hause

If it hadn't been for the fact that a similar (though less cynical) film had been made just a few years earlier (THE MAN IN THE WHITE SUIT), I might have scored this parody a bit higher. Despite obviously being a comedy, the film is an amazingly insightful attack on the floundering state of British labor following the Second World War. While Britain used to be the most productive country on the planet, during this era they were torn apart by strikes and work slowdowns. Yet the film doesn't just attack labor unions with their unreasonable demands and poor work ethic. It also attacks factory owners who actually exploit this to their own interests. This film is obviously a loud declaration that the British Empire is in fact dead.

The film begins with an upper class twit named 'Windrush' going to work for the first time. However, he really isn't cut out for management despite his Oxford education--and he seems better suited to manual labor. The problem is that after failing again and again in management, he is simply too good as a blue collar worker. This is because he works way too hard and makes all his extremely lazy co-workers look bad! And, when management documents how much work one motivated man CAN do, this ultimately results in a strike, as management wants the workers output to increase--or at least that's what they claimed. All this set in motion by a slow-witted but very decent upper class gent working as a forklift driver!!

The film is very well written and clever. While younger audience members might not appreciate the film's insights, it is funny in a droll sort of way. Additionally, having wonderful actors such as Peter Sellers and Terry-Thomas sure didn't hurt! Overall, sharp social and political satire that does a great job of attacking labor and management and giving insights into the decline of the British economy.

The cast alone is a triumph in this movie - some of the best British character actors who ever lived are here: Terry Thomas, Miles Malleson, John Le Mesurier, all backing up Ian Carmichael as the earnest, silly-ass upper-class bumbler and Peter Sellers as Fred Kite, the Marxist shop steward. Sellers in particular is wonderful; his Fred Kite is a lower class striver who has acquired just enough education to give him an inflated idea of his own abilities, but not enough to realize the gaps and inadequacies in his views. He is a perfect realization in miniature of Taine's statement that there is nothing more dangerous than a general idea in a narrow, empty mind. He boasts to his Oxford-educated gentleman lodger about the summer course he took at the university once, reminding him in a familiar fashion about the very good marmalade and toast provided by the college, while the obviously wealthy young man politely admits that he wasn't acquainted with the public dining hall during his years there.

The plot becomes more and more complex as the movie progresses, with almost everyone turning out to be on the take. The climax comes in a free-for-all over a bag containing thousands of pounds intended to bribe Stanley into joining the sensible schemers plundering the public while paying lip service to public service and solidarity with the working class. Malcolm Muggeridge has a interesting cameo in this scene, playing himself. Most recent broadcasts of this movie have edited out the disturbing racist statements of the working class characters, but the original movie had no sentimental soft spot for anyone, workers or bosses.

Along with Alexander Mackendrick's "The Man in the White Suit," this is THE great satire of management-labor relations: less allegorical and more cheerfully crass. In a way this movie seems like a sort of crossroads in British comedy, poised between the warmer eccentricities of the Ealing films and and the screw-'em-all pop irreverence of the rising New Wave.

These days the film seems to be primarily remembered for Peter Sellers' magnificent caricature of socialist sanctimony, Fred Kite, but the whole gallery of players, many reprising roles from the earlier "Private's Progress," is excellent. Carmichael, all inane, wild-eyed grins, is Woosterish as ever as the brainless but well-intentioned Windrush. Terry-Thomas produces a very funny sketch of middle-class middle management. It's a perfect picture of lazy hypocrisy: the man who settles into a do-nothing job, knowing exactly how awful it is but not caring so long as he gets through the day. He had a face made for contempt; watching his mustache curl as he reads an entry in the workers' suggestion box ("Filthy beast," he mutters, as he tucks it away in a pocket) or as he picks his way through the rubbish of Kite's wifeless home is a joy. Price and Attenborough are, as always, first-class rotters, the iciest of the moneyed class, and Handl, Le Mesurier and Rutherford add vividly funny moments. As the war over Windrush expands from workplace to societal to domestic spheres, watching the various characters bounce and interact provides some of the movie's best-observed moments, such as the brief tea scene between Rutherford and Handl, who, though inhabiting utterly different worlds, seem to interact perfectly in mutual obliviousness.

And there is Sellers, of course, pitch-perfect whether marching around the factory like the lead float in a parade or rhapsodizing about Russia or going hilariously blank on live television. It's memorable work that might overbalance the movie's double-edged attack if it weren't human enough to be sympathetic as well.

All in all, silly, clever, raucous fun.

Superior example of British comedy film making amongst a sea of duds. British film-makers never got it more right than here. Tremendous story and script plus wonderful performances from a whole host of character actors, especially Peter Sellers and Terry-Thomas.

Very funny satire on British industrial relations.

Ah, progress. Never mind that tosh. "I'm All Right Jack" is a hilarious send up of the 20th century very much on point today, an anything-goes capitalist-meets-socialist system where workers and owners are equally victimized.

Peter Sellers won the British Academy Award for Best British Actor for his performance as union leader Fred Kite, beating out a field that year which included Laurence Olivier, Laurence Harvey, Richard Burton, and Peter Finch. Ian Carmichael is the actual lead actor in "I'm All Right Jack", and Kite doesn't even show up until after the first 20 minutes, but Sellers makes Kite a compelling and comedic character worth remembering as a symbol of organized labor run amuk.

A kind of sequel to "Private's Progress", also featuring Carmichael in the role of Stanley Windrush, "I'm All Right Jack" is a swinging social satire. Two factory owners (played by Dennis Price and Richard Attenborough) conspire to create a labor strike at a munitions factory to get a higher price. To do that, they need someone to create a bit of friction. Enter Windrush, a total innocent upper-class twit who only cares about earning his pay, no matter how much that offends Kite and other labor leaders.

"We're living in the welfare state," says the middle manager Hitchcock (Terry-Thomas). "I call it the farewell state."

"I'm All Right Jack" starts out very cheeky indeed, with a surprising eyeful of female nudity circa 1959 and cracks at religion and the military. Later, a stuttering character sees an array of photographers and asks: "Why don't you tell them to f-f-f-photograph something worthwhile."

The only major problem with "I'm All Right Jack" is the slowness of the film right up until Windrush arrives at Missiles Ltd., after which the comedy becomes a kind of classless class comedy, where shrapnel flies thick and fast and no one is immune. Sellers' performance is brilliant, giving you a character who's likable even as he plays the antagonist. You can scorn his love of Stalinist Russia, which he boils down to cornfields and ballet, but you empathize with his fairness (not wanting to fire Windrush is his undoubted downfall) and his sensitivity for the feelings of Mrs. Kite (Irene Handl) and their daughter (Liz Fraser). He's just a bit extreme.

"We cannot and do not accept the principle that incompetence justifies dismissal," Kite argues. "That is victimization."

The real bad guys are the bosses guying the system, though John Boulting, who directed and co-wrote this with Alan Hackney and Frank Harvey, wants you to see the union abuses that make such a scam not only possible but desirable to the upper classes.

Sellers also appears at the film's outset as "Sir John", a men's-club inhabitant who witnesses the end of World War II as an unpleasant upending of the old social order, before disappearing in the postwar wake. "A solid block in what seemed the edifice of an ordered and stable society," is his postscript.

Contrast him with the very hip, 60s-sounding Al Saxon theme song that sticks its post-war, pre-Beatles attitude in your face as smartly as flipping the bird to Churchill (something else we get to see in the first few minutes), and you find yourself watching what had to be for 1959 a very mod film. It still stands up today as one of the best labor-management comedies, even if the British class system it addresses is no more.