The-MacMahonian

The Knack... and How to Get It was the 4th feature film directed by Richard Lester, American director indelibly connotated with 60's Britain, as his 1st 5 films, including the present Cannes Palme d'Or winner effort and the 2 celebrated Beatles vehicles A Hard Day's Night (1964) and Help! (1965) were filmed in the UK and became part and parcel of Swinging London iconography. Ever the virtuoso jester, Lester subsequently returned to the USA for further box-office success directing comedies and light adventures, including a three instalment Musketeer series (1973-1989) and two Superman sequels (1980-1983). As conjurer of Tinseltown thrill and entertainment, Lester is in a league of his own, matched only occasionally by the likes of Richard Donner (who btw penned the 1st Superman and co-directed the 2nd with Lester), Roger Donaldson or John McTiernan.

The Knack... consist of a Commedia dell'Arte-type quadrangle, the 4 sides of the square being young celibate school teacher cum landlord Colin (Michael Crawford, appropriately inadequate), his tenant insufferably successful womanizer Tolan (Ray Brooks, appropriately insufferable), accidentally stumbled-upon love interest of both Nancy (Rita Tushingham, bless her but for the love of me I can't see what Col and Tol saw in her) and Irish soon-to-be also-tenant looker-on Tom (Donal Donelly, if ever there was a name more Irish) who comments on the proceedings for comic relief, everyone carrying on with bizarre silliness or, as was back then probably intended, whimsical zany antics.

Few films merit the adjective "dated" as The Knack... does. Photography and costume design to the T (not that it should have been particularly difficult to faithfully portray 1965 fashions in 1965...) notwithstanding, and the incongruity of including the film in a Free Cinema retrospective ditto (admittedly no fault of the film but rather of the retrospective's curators excessive historical amplitude) what strikes the contemporary viewer the most is that Lester certainly didn't intend his directing virtuosity to go unnoticed, flaunting a Frank-Tashlin-meets-Jean-Luc-Godard-gone-mod framing and editing style that certainly might have looked like the cat's pyjamas back in the day but ultimately drowns the film in decorative affectedness, which on second thoughts is not a totally bad thing, as it also distracts from the vacuity of the proceedings.

But this showing also showed there is still hope in cinephilia: the room was full (COVID19-full, that is, meaning abut 40%) comparing very favourably with current "commercial" venues' occupation rates, more on which soon.