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.

British `dark comedy' was possibly as its zenith with this rich Peter O'Toole offering by director Peter Medak. O'Toole is Jack Gurney, the youngest and `somewhat eccentric' heir to the House of Gurney. He suddenly finds himself being forced by his late father's will into taking up his role in British society - assuming the family seat in the House of Lords. The biggest problem is not that the late Earl of Gurney has just accidentally hung himself wearing a cocked hat and a ballet skirt, or that Jack has just released himself from `hospital' where the doctors were treating his `nerves.' No the biggest problem is that, on a good day, the new 14th Earl of Gurney thinks he's Jesus Christ and, on a bad day, he thinks he's Jack the Ripper!

And if that mix of the macabre doesn't make you chuckle, try this unexpected twist. At several poignant moments throughout the film, the cast will suddenly break from straight-faced dialogue into a full-blown, song and dance numbers, some of which would make Busby Berkley proud. In one case, the tune of `Connect 'dem Bones' is ushered up to punctuate a scene with O'Toole lecturing the local gentry about the need for capital punishment. Herein lies one of the big reasons why this film is so off-the-wall and refreshingly funny.

For my money, this is one of the most original, thought-provoking and honest critiques of the British class system ever to be put on film. O'Toole is simply mesmerizing as he juggles Jack's multiple personalities, the funniest of which is Christ or, as he prefers it, `J.C.' It's hysterical to watch the cumulative effect of J.C.'s `touched' outlook on the members in his stuffy, conspiring family who are out to get Jack committed permanently.

A true `Must See Film' for anyone who enjoys a juicy, sardonic, intelligent black comedy, especially when the topic focuses on the silly pomposity of the British upper classes.

A scathing and profoundly witty attack on Britain's social and political institutions with Peter O'Toole on his best ever form as Jack, the Son of an English Earl who inherits his Father's estate when the old man accidentally kills himself via auto-erotic asphyxiation. The only problem for Jack's relatives is that he's a paranoid Schziophrenic who thinks he's Jesus and they're quick to move for his indefinite committal when he starts to talk about the relinquishing of material possessions and tolerance toward all men. The Ruling Class is a film of two halves. The first is some of the best character comedy you'll ever see. As "JC" who wears glasses because he's cold, O'Toole commands every scene benefiting from some superbly written monologues and one liners, the standout being his pre-wedding speech on the cross and he's assisted by the creme de la creme of British character actors, Arthur Lowe a standout as the newly liberated Trokskyite Butler Tuck with a blatant contempt for his old masters. The second half however, is dark stuff indeed - jet black in fact. Apparenty 'cured' after an arranged confrontation with the AC-DC messiah, Jack dresses as a Victorian gentleman, talks about capital punishment and superior breeding and concerns no-one, the fact he believes himself to be Jack the Ripper going completely unnoticed by his peers who prime him for his climatic accession to the House of Lords. The conceit is milked for all its worth and the final scenes with a hallucinatory Jack looking at his fellow peers in the House as decayed corpses is a particularly chilling postscript to the story. Subtle? No way but its sledgehammer to the concept of patronage and privilege as a criteria for governance and influence. Like the best satire its savage, angry stuff - possibly overlong and too conscious of its theatrical origins but ultimately no less caustic or inventive for it. Class indeed.

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.