Die letzten Tage in Kenya

Although I wouldn't say this is a great movie, it is definitely an entertaining one.

The film tells the mostly true story of the fairly outrageous goings on amongst upper class Britons in Kenya during WW2. If the film does anything, it captures that outrageous spirit perfectly.

Aging Sir John Henry Delves Broughton (Joss Ackland) leaves war-torn England with his beautiful young wife, Diana (Greta Scacchi), to oversee his properties in British Kenya. They join other ex-pat aristocrats in the incongruously named Happy Valley community. Although cocooned from the war in Europe, the denizens of the valley are completely at the mercy of the boredom generated by their privileged lifestyles, and their overheated libidos.

They joyously encourage new arrivals to cheat on their partners, and then just as joyously inform the other halves about what is going on. Broughton begins to realise that he has something more disturbing than German bombs and falling commodity prices to worry about when Diana begins an open affair with Josslyn Hay, the Earl of Erroll (Charles Dance).

Eventually it all ends in tears, murder and suicide.

The film was not successful at the box office, and it's hard to pick just what put people off. However there is a fair amount of nudity in the film, which I think still tends to alienate mainstream audiences. Maybe the whole thing sounded too unsavoury - Diana is irresistible to males, especially older ones with even Trevor Howard's character peeping at her in the bath. There isn't anyone in the story whose intentions are strictly honourable.

But with that said, the performances are fascinating. Joss Ackland is superb; we feel his humiliation as the virile Erroll offers Diana what he can't.

The 1940's probably weren't the most flattering period for fashions, however Greta Scacchi looks stunning in them - she reminded me of Lana Turner in "The Postman Always Rings Twice".

Charles Dance exudes an element of danger, much like Vincent Cassel. Tall and lithe, he wears black tie beautifully, but when he strips down you see how fit and agile he is - not a man to be trifled with.

"White Mischief" has a certain pace and style and glides by easily. It stays in the memory, and is a long way from being a bad movie.

Seldom has social rot been more beautifully photographed than here. It's 1940. Bombs are raining down on London, soldiers are dying across Europe, Hitler is on the rise, yet not a drop of alcohol is being spilled by the rich and idle colonialists of British east Africa. Time is spent drinking and gossiping, drinking and swapping mates, drinking and dancing, and drinking and cross-dressing. It's all really rather empty and boring, sort of a sub-Saharan "La Dolce Vita", summed up in the death-mask visage of the sumptuous Greta Scacchi. Once jealousy takes hold, it's fun to watch the emotions build and shake loose behind these perfectly mannered mannikins.

Based on an actual murder case, the movie is salvaged from cliché by the elegantly understated style of the film-makers, who know how to both seduce and make a subtle point. Two scenes stay with me. A black man-servant sets up targets for practicing colonialists and narrowly escapes being shot in the process. The episode passes quickly, but it's evident the elitist whites take no notice of what almost happened -- a whole little world captured in one fleeting event. The other is the deathless and x-rated line -- "Oh my God! Not another f...king beautiful day." -- uttered by the super-jaded Sarah Miles as she surveys yet one more splendorous sunrise from the veranda of one of the film's many lush mansions. For contrast, there is John Hurt's scruffy and enigmatic "Gilbert", reputedly the richest man in Kenya, and a fascinating study in laconic reserve. What exactly is going on behind that wide- eyed stare and silent tongue -- envy? disgust? It's probably best that we never know. Anyway, this is an all-around first rate production that qualifies for permanent cult status and promises to remain with you long after the final scene has faded from view.

Was well into the film before I realized it was based on the factual story of a famous murder case. I was transported and still feel that way every time I get a chance to enjoy it again. I forgot who the actors were-they became the characters. That's how you know a film is splendid. I love the restraint of a fine British actor. No words are wasted. A glance tells it all. Everyone in the cast should be knighted by the Queen! I'll drop her Majesty a line right away. Chloe

Based on the book by James Fox (not the handsome English actor of a certain age) this film remains hard to pin down: it's part murder mystery, part sociological study, part history of pre-WW2 East African colonialism, part romance, part dionysian orgy (really), part Evelyn Waugh/Somerset Maughm, part romance, part.... etc. etc. And it's all true.

Yes, the actors are more spectacular looking than their real life counterparts (particularly Scacchi, seldom more stunning.) Sarah Miles' strange character wafts through as most memorable of all in a rich ensemble set of louche decadents. (And yet the actress in real life admitted she may not have gotten a handle on the real woman, just an impression. Based upon my reading of Fox's and Trzebinski's books' accounts on the Alice de Janze, I'd have to agree. Nothing like her except the memorable quips and woozy flair.) Plus, most folks who didn't swim through the primo decadence of the 1960's firsthand might be appalled at what passes for entertainment in British colonial East Africa of the 1930'/40s. But what you'll get for your treasure hunt (this is a hard film to find) is the truth of a murder mystery, weird but real characters, a slice of history, all against the gorgeous panoply of Kenya, despite all its troubles one of the most beautiful spots on the entire planet, all shot on location right where the real events unfolded.

Basic Instinct set in Kenya at the end of Art Deco era which also marks the beginning of WWII. That means, the costumes and sets are gorgeous. Bravo! Greta Scacchi is stunning and we get full frontal nudity from her and Charles Dance... and everybody else. Greta Scacchi looks like a proper Hollywood golden age movie star, just looking at her perfect nails and hairdo makes me forget about the trivialities such as the depth of the character, etc. Every frame is gorgeous and perfectly lit. And the decadence - the drug use, the orgies, the masturbation to a corpse in a morgue, that's all glorious to watch in this dull era of superhero films and sequels and dramas that boast 'strong' female characters. It only lacks more... well, nudity. I feel that the romance between the two main protagonists ends too quickly for us to give a damn. But maybe that would have turned it into a 'soapy' melodrama. Maybe we can't relate to the whole situations because the characters have very few or zero redeeming qualities and, after all, they are the idle rich - we are not, but still. The film has a TV feel to it, like one of those Agatha Christie adaptations, which I'm not sure is bad; I adore these films. British aristocracy stuck in their lavish mansions; that's been a part of the Gothic lore ever since the folk tales were invented, and I'm sure it's them who invented them. This film is very dreamy and at the same time scary. There's a sense of a curse, that all the characters have been cursed, especially in the last scene which is like a picnic with the dead.