Dieu et mon droit

You couldn't make this film today. They wouldn't let you.

And by "they" I don't only mean what remains of the film's archetypes, but their 21st century successors: the politicians, broadcasters, pundits and columnists; the do-gooders, moral guardians and the political correctness lobby.

Our new alleged betters, who believe that the country would be so much better if they were the only ones running it, and who're convinced that what the world really needs is a steady diet of anodyne intellectual rice pudding; otherwise, they'd be either be risking (shock and horror!) offending someone or actually making people think about the situation they're in - at the risk of upsetting their own privileged positions.

Before I saw it, I'd never even heard of it or the original stage play. But now more's the pity that I'll probably never see both.

When the first five minutes of anything features an unfortunate death involving a cavalry sabre and a tutu, it's a reliable indicator that snooks may be cocked in any given direction, and the following film doesn't disappoint.

No "establishment" institution is left unsullied by the cast's sardonic touch – and the production is all the better for it. Any punches being pulled would've instantly rang hollow and seemed false in a production with this much raw, snarling energy.

This wasn't comfortable viewing and I don't think it was meant to be. I don't agree with the majority of views expressed in the film and I don't think I was meant to.

It's like peeping into Bedlam and wondering what the inmates will do next – an image made all the more powerful by the liminal sense of time used to ram the mothballed banality home. There're only a few scenes when you can remind yourself that this film is set in its own time, rather than any period over the last few hundred years.

But, ye gods, it was some of the most compelling viewing I've ever seen. I can't vouch for whether or not it was a perverse sense of schardenfruede to peep at the seedier underbelly of my own nation's largely sacrosanct and untouchable upper classes, or just an urge to see how far the film would go before it reached its grimly inevitable, tragic conclusion; but once it started, I couldn't even bear to hit the pause button.

O'Toole's performance is nothing short of mesmerising and magnetic, evolving Jack's character and treading a fine line between sympathy and revulsion in the emotions he provokes.

My first thought upon seeing some of the monologues involved in Jack's role was that if this man didn't get an Oscar nomination for this role, he should've done – so it's a relief to've found out that he did, and more's the pity that he didn't get the win he deserved. The emotional range and energy involved owns the screen in every scene he's in.

The cast are almost all recognisable, mesh well and visibly give their all, even if any fan of 'Blackadder II' may have difficulty not picturing Patsy Byrne in a cow costume.

Arthur Lowe's bolshie manservant provides many of the more blatant, straightforward comic moments as his masters' opposite extreme, but still comes across as a three-dimensional, dramatic and even unashamedly dark character – the latter being an undertone that even the cleanest of sight gags can't fully temper.

Almost all of the principle cast members – and quite a few of the minors and extras – can also hold a note and get the opportunity, in the biting musical numbers. Or at least, if they're dubbed, then the dubbing team deserve additional praise for pulling off the illusion so smoothly.

The songs vary between classic and contemporary. The likes of opera and music hall mingle to convey the cavalier attitude of the characters to often murky or distasteful subject matter, adding a further layer of perky surrealism.

And yet none of this mixture of genres, mise en scene, times, places and imagery seems overly forced.

This sort of alchemy of genres and use of the cinema as a platform for outspoken statements used to be something that really could attract the cream of the acting profession, rather than have to be left to unknowns and independent production teams because no studio or "star" would dare to risk the bad publicity and drop in revenue and/or credibility.

When I initially began attempting to write a summary of this film, I felt that there was no way that I could possibly cram everything that I feel about this film into a well-ordered 1,000 words. And I still believe it. I'm normally capable of far more ordered reviews than this, but I just don't know how to put everything I should be foregrounding into any sort of prioritised order without unjustly diminishing some of it.

I could carry on explaining, but I doubt that I could do this film justice in the space allowed.

See it, and find out for yourself.

After the 13th Earl of Gurney succumbs to a fatal autoerotic asphyxiation incident, his mentally unbalanced son Jack inherits his position in the aristocracy. Jack, believing himself to be Jesus Christ incarnate, pledges to use his family's wealth and influence for the good of mankind. His philanthropic ideals displease his relatives, who plot to oust Jack from the estate so they can continue to enjoy the quality of life to which they'd grown accustomed. For everyone involved, however, things will get increasingly complex, as Jack's unhinged psyche is near breaking point; and his family's machinations may just push him over the edge.

Based on Peter Barnes' play of the same name, 'The Ruling Class' is a wildly amusing, madcap movie. Directed by Peter Medak- and with a screenplay from Barnes himself- the film shows us a comedic portrait of a man fully enveloped by madness, while skewering the British class system in a sharp, entertaining way.

Combining broad comedy with barbed, witty dialogue- as well as a dose of gallows humor- the film is sure to make you laugh. In the latter half, there is a tonal shift, and 'The Ruling Class' gets considerably darker; but is no less enjoyable. While the continued treatise on the aristocracy does seem a little one-note at times, and some of the jokes fall rather flat; the story is mostly inventive, bizarre and fiendishly humorous.

On the technical side of things, 'The Ruling Class' is a mixed bag. Ken Hodges' cinematography isn't awful per se, it's just uninspired; a little drab. There are some fantastic images in the film, but Hodges doesn't capture them with any sense of fun or style. Hodges and Medak worked together on Medak's debut feature 'Negatives,' and their collaboration on that project yielded infinitely more interesting and affecting results. Additionally, Ray Lovejoy's editing feels loose and inconsistent, with some scenes going on far too long and others feeling positively brisk in comparison; leaving the pacing erratic and irregular.

Also of issue is John Cameron's overblown score, which is exhaustingly energetic. While there are a couple of effective pieces, his arrangements are the antithesis of subtle work, and they actually rob a few scenes of power and impact. On a more positive note, Ruth Meyers' costume design is striking, with her outfits for Jack being especially notable and grand. Tim Hampton's production design is superb all round, and the locations consistently look marvelous on screen.

'The Ruling Class' boasts a cast that any fan of English movies will go cock-a-hoop over, featuring the likes of Graham Crowden, William Mervyn and Kay Walsh; all performing at the top of their games. Alastair Sim and Arthur Lowe both have small but meaty roles as an eccentric bishop and a butler, and Harry Andrews makes the most of his all too brief scene as the 13th Earl; delighting with his outrageousness. Coral Browne also impresses with her turn as Jack's aunt, a comically duplicitous wench if ever there was one.

Peter O'Toole dominates the movie, though, giving a performance of alarming intensity and boundless comedic skill. As Jack, he is insanity personified, a lunatic of monumental proportions. O'Toole brings the over-the-top role to life so naturally and effortlessly you forget he's acting, and that the man himself hasn't snapped. He carries the film, and it is hard to imagine anyone else playing the part- or, indeed, the film working had he not been cast. It is a towering performance of immense strength and depth that is genuinely unforgettable (and quite frightening, from time to time).

'The Ruling Class' is a terrific movie that combines pointed satire, broad humor and witty dialogue, with results that are sure to please. The film boasts a large cast of talented actors giving it their all, as well as a powerful central performance from Peter O'Toole that is mesmerizing, macabre and memorable. Though 'The Ruling Class' may get a little frantic in places, and the cinematography is nothing to write home about, it is always entertaining and utterly unique: a fabulous, frenzied farce.

This is an excellent movie, but don't watch it expecting it to be purely a dark comedy. There is a lot of humor in it--often very bizarre humor--but it is primarily a very powerful statement about what can happen when, for the sake of social acceptability, a human mind is forced into a mold that doesn't fit. In my opinion, the British ruling class was chosen to illustrate this point only because they do have very rigid rules about what kind of behavior is socially acceptable and what is simply "not done." It's statement about the dangers of excessive self-repression apply equally to us all.

Back in 2001, The Criterion Collection saw fit to add "The Ruling Class" (1972) to their catalog; which means there is now a good print available in the correct aspect ratio, one that includes the entire original release running time of 154 minutes. It also means that "The Ruling Class" is now regarded in film circles as a "significant" movie. Of course almost any film student will tell you that "significant" is not necessarily synonymous with entertaining, critically acclaimed, or well-made.

So if you are considering a purchase or have just had a confused post-purchase viewing experience the following discussion may prove useful. This is a British film, one I originally watched on the BBC a few months after its release. It was neither a critical success (mixed reviews) nor a box office sensation and hitting the BBC so soon after a theatrical release back then was not much different from going direct-to-video today.

It was a counter-culture film, and much of my original enjoyment came from the obvious tweaking of certain cultural and political institutions. Much of this stuff has lost its power and appeal over the years.

It has a lot of expressionistic and allegorical elements; this sort of stuff was (and is) relatively rare in an English language film and probably accounts for much of the current cult status of the film. The black comedy aspect of these elements has held up very well and you will understand the film better and enjoy it more if you don't take it literally.

Jack, the 14th Earl of Gurney (Peter O'Toole), has recently inherited the family title and a place in the House of Lords of the British Parliament. The story actually begins with a cheerfully provocative black comedy sequence as his father, the 13th Earl (Harry Andrews), accidentally hangs himself while performing what is apparently a long-standing self-pleasuring ritual.

Jack believes himself Jesus Christ and his family believes that they can get their hands on the estate once he produces an heir. Their idea being to have him committed and then become guardians of the child. Carolyn Seymour plays his uncle's mistress who is brought in to marry Jack. Her character throws a wrench in the works by falling in love with her new husband. Other than Jack, Seymour's character is the only one that undergoes any real change during the course of the film and she sells this transformation quite nicely while also providing one of the best striptease sequences you are likely to stumble across in a mainstream movie.

As already noted the running length is 154 minutes, that's about the length of two movies and if the film were being produced today I suspect that it would be done as two separate films. Indeed it is really two stories with each having an entirely different tone. About midway through the film, the Jesus version of the 14th Earl is replaced by a Jack the Ripper version. In the process a farcical and relatively light-hearted black comedy is instantly transformed into a much darker story. Black comedy gives way to dark fantasy and hallucinations as the wheels fall off the story until a visually stunning ending.

The 1972 theme being essentially that being forced to conform to the ritualistic practices of upper class British society produces a monster. That not being able to "do your own thing" unleashes a monster on the world. Unfortunately the basic cause and effect of this whole process is glossed over and one is left wondering why the film you have been watching has been replaced with something entirely different and far less entertaining.

O'Toole underplays his two characters, don't expect a lot of Gary Oldham type excess. Jesus is more a mild narcissist than a booming holy roller. Jack (the Ripper) is much better mannered but obviously smoldering beneath his polite exterior.

The laughs mostly come from the discomfort of Jack's family and from Alastair Sim's apoplectic bishop and Authur Lowe's collectivist butler who abuses the family with a "Benson" type frankness.

There are two great musical sequences, a hunt club performance of "Dem Bones" (a homage to "The Prisoner") and the climatic scene in the House of Lords (a surreal montage of decay to the music of "Pomp and Circumstances" and "Onward, Christian Soldiers").

Then again, what do I know? I'm only a child.

Peter O'Toole has often played characters who are obsessed and even a bit mad. But in The Ruling Class he is utterly over the top crazy, and it's a bit disquieting how naturally he slips into the role. Yet this is a comedy, a wonderfully bizarre, often black comedy that deals with acceptable and unacceptable behavior -- insanity, and morality, being irrelevant. It's characters mostly belong the English elite, but they simply stand in for all those whose power and prestige demand that appearances be kept up. So this isn't a film for everyone. And some may not like the way it swings from the very flippant to the very dark. It requires a wide range of humor to enjoy it all. Unfortunately, I hear that enjoying it all may be impossible. It seems that all home versions are cut several minutes from the theatrical release, sometimes much more. The longest length available is apparently 141 minutes, so that is the one to get.