French Dressing

Ken Russell's first ever feature film - starring James Booth, Roy Kinnear, and the gorgeous Marisa Mell - bizarrely plays out like a cross between a Carry On film and an episode of The Benny Hill Show! Russell didn't enjoy making it, and he didn't like the finished product much; but it's well acted, with a naughty-yet-innocent 'seaside postcard' feel to it (Talking Pictures channel (UK) is great for throwing up little gems like this). 6/10.

A special title: I had to go across the pond to retrieve it! Because this film has never been released on home video in the US, I bought the film on eBay in the UK and shipped it to my friend Darren in Scotland, who ripped it into a Quicktime file to send to me. I would safely say it is the most difficult film to acquire I have ever tracked down!

First, the negative: this process caused a messy, glitchy version of the film that was admittedly harder to watch. I could handle it, but I wouldn't show this copy to friends unless they were warned. It makes the case for why having restorations and good quality picture matters.

Nonetheless, the feature debut of Ken Russell is truly a delight. It's a short and sweet 80 minutes and impressively has a fair share of humor and stylistic wow moments. He knows how to create beauty and wonder in cinema form like few other filmmakers I've ever seen. Despite its reputation as being Russell's least innovative project (had to start somewhere) it still has a few brilliant set pieces and photography to ogle at (not even just of the bikini-clad movie star). I laughed out loud, I was moved by some of its beauty. There's something to this late-era black and white that's really magnificent. You can see it as a contemporary to "A Hard Days Night," released the same year to much greater success. Some of its humor has aged, some of it remains relevant today toward the objectification of women, especially in regards to how it is shown in film. And it's surprisingly blunt at times, perhaps this is why it's been impossible to find in the US.

I hope to one day see this movie again in a proper restoration, or at least the unpixelated version as described. Yet despite some visual setbacks, I could still relish in 'French Dressing' and can't wait to see the next entry in Russell's filmography.

This has always been a weakness of mine: one of Ken Russell's earliest made-for-cinema efforts after a prestigious early career in TV documentaries. It stars one of my favourite minor British actors, James Booth, who went on to appear so memorably in 'Zulu' the year after, the late Roy Kinnear as a corpulent side kick, as well as the irreplaceable Bryan Pringle, as the corruptible and egoistical Mayor. The weaknesses, and charm, can be put down to its time and some of Russell's own uncertainties on a larger canvas: EG the awkward apeing of some Nouvelle Vague mannerisms for outside shots, and the varying tone - psrtly due to Russell's attempts to reconcile so many disparate elements. But to offset that, his surreal vision of a small English sea-side resort (Herne Bay), seeking to raise its cultural and tourist profile was (and remains) delightful to anyone who was familiar with the run down, determinedly unsexy reality at the time. Its a film a long way from the later Russell's variable excesses and, although sometimes awkward, is never heavy handed. He works well in black and white, maintaining a narrative interest and drive which only falters at the end, even if wide boy Booth is unable to project the warmth and passion his character's infatuation ultimately needs. This is one of those rare British films in which the imported continental talent - in this case, Marissa Mell (who plays 'Francoise Fayol', clearly modelled on Bardot) 'works' as a character - her exotic sexuality, so out of place in drab Gormley-on-Sea, is the point of a film that pointedly contrasts expectations, then results, throughout. And, as a view of small town municipal life, 'French Dressing' would bear some closer investigation by British critics than it has hitherto received. It's good too to see a falling out of opinions on IMDb's hallowed pages about this film - a sure sign that it is alive and kicking...

Hadn't it been for Brigitte Bardot , Saint-Tropez would have been another season resort among so many others on the French Rivieira.

An English sea resort is deserted ; all the deckchairs are empty and the young man who is in charge of them has a good idea :during the film festival ,a female French actress could attract a lot of people and help the place become a big touristic draw; as BB was unavailable -or probably too expensive - they choose an ersatz ,Françoise ; there's the rub :although she's got a BB hairdo and tries to imitate her swagger ,she's Austrian Marisa Mell who has got no French accent at all and does not utter a single word in her first language : a French actress with un petit je ne sais quoi nohow .Blonde Mylène Demongeot would have been a much better French sex symbol, if they were not able to afford BB...

This black and white film, often recalling burlesque of the silent era ,may disappoint Ken Russel's fans ; one scene,however , may herald his future frenzy: on the screen ,a giant mouth "swallows" all the men in the audience .

What a heap of drivel. This early Ken Russell effort starts feebly then gets worse. It's a one-joke movie whose one joke isn't funny.

Jim is a cheeky young chap who works as a deckchair attendant for the council of Gormleigh, an imaginary holiday resort on the Kent Coast of England. Jim has a chubby friend called Henry and an American girlfriend, Judy. Judy is a cute kid who works as a journalist on the local paper, but wants to be a serious writer. Jim's brilliant idea is to galvanise tourist interest in Gormleigh by importing French sex-kitten actress, Francoise Fayol.

The single gag is the fun which arises (did I say fun?) when French sexiness meets English aldermanic pomposity. And there you have it.

Jim is played with barrow-boy chirpiness by James Booth, an actor very much in vogue at the time. The late, much-lamented Roy Kinnear is Henry, the dull and cowardly council employee who always seems to mess up. Alita Naughton makes her debut in this film, playing Judy. She is projected as the 'kooky' babe, an Audrey Hepburn for the beat generation. To the best of my knowledge, she was never heard of again.

"Dunno what you're laughing at," observes Henry at one point, and it might well be directed at the cinema audience. The humour seems to consist of getting people wet. We even have the old Walter Raleigh gag of spreading a cape over a puddle, then when the woman steps onto it she sinks up to her neck. And there is the platform of local worthies which slides into the sea. Yes, it's really as dire as that.

Merisa Mell (another starlet who didn't twinkle for long) plays Francoise Fayol. She pouts and wears bikinis. Because she is French, she says "Oh la la" quite a lot and breaks into "Gentille Alouette" when she's happy. Russell makes fun of the self-important Nouvelle Vague in 'Pavements of Boulogne', the film within a film, and Francoise's creator Vladek (Sandor Eles) seems to be a satirical thrust at Vadim.

Alita McNaughton is pretty, and Russell rather over-indulges the lingering close-ups during which she is expected to pull cute faces. She sings very nicely during her end-of-the-pier farewell to Jim and Henry, but she has little else to offer. She shows her stocking-tops twice (once, unaccountably, after removing a pair of jeans) - and it is twice too often for such a totally un-voluptuous woman.

The film falls between two stools. It fails as an old-fashioned seaside romp, and though one catches a whiff of rebellious sixties counter-culture ("What am I going to do with the flag?") it is too hidebound and middle-aged to work as a companion piece to "Hard Day's Night". Bryan Pringle was to spend the subsequent decade and more playing straight-faced comical weirdos, and he established the pattern in this film with his portrayal of the randy Mayor of Gormleigh.

Johnny Speight (whom I have always regarded as over-rated) provided additional dialogue, but whatever his contribution was, it didn't help. The 'big scene' - the riot in the cinema - is depressingly lame, in that oh-so-familiar British way.

Russell being Russell, there have to be some obtrusive auteurial camera tricks. We get bits of 'hip' sixties rapid-cut montage (the camel photos) and monotonous use of fast-motion for allegedly comic effect (Jim pedalling his bike hard, the Francoise disguise sequence, etc). Filming the boat conversation from another boat is, at least, visually interesting and in fairness to Russell the parting for France is attractively done, shifting the point of view between the pier and the ferry.

Robert Robinson appears as himself in what I can only assume was the consequence of a well-oiled Garrick Club wager.