The Hireling

Another of L.P. Hartley's tales of class and sexual obsession, this one was brought to the screen in 1973 by Alan Bridges, who also made "The Shooting Party", and despite winning three BAFTAs and the Palme D'Or at Cannes has all but disappeared. Like "The Go-Between" this, too, is about a relationship that develops between a titled lady, (Sarah Miles), and a member of the working class, (Robert Shaw), but unlike "The Go-Between", this is a somewhat small-scale affair though psychologically it is just as astute.

It is set in the years after the First World War and Miles is the young widow recovering from a nervous breakdown after the death of her husband and Shaw is the man hired to drive her around and who develops an unhealthy obsession with his employer and they are both superb. The fine supporting cast includes a young Peter Egan as a smug Liberal Member of Parliament and Elizabeth Sellars as Miles' chilly mother while the screenplay by Wolf Mankowitz is typically literate. In fact, you might describe the film itself as chilly. It is certainly old-fashioned but with a degree of frankness that would have been unheard of 20 years earlier and it deserves to be seen.

The 1973 Palme d'Or winner (a tie with SCARECROW, 1973), a British film directed by Alan Bridges and adapted from L.P. Hartley's novel, screen-scripted by Wolf Mankowitz, is quite a curio to find, stars Sarah Miles and Robert Shaw as an odd pair, the story takes place at rural England after WWI, it is an acrimonious tirade towards British hierarchical underbelly and is spiced up by the qualified performances from two leads, Miles' innate fragility and gullible naivety finds a quite befitting rhythm with Shaw's rough edge and macho dominance (also Peter Egan's nob Captain is graphically delineated with a light touch), despite the fact that the film is somewhat a lukewarm achievement.

Miles is Lady Franklin, an upper-class new widow suffers from the post-trauma of her bereavement, anew from convalescence, she is mentally hurdled to resume her social life and raring to find someone who she could talk to, when she meets her new chauffeur Ledbetter (Shaw), who just initiates his own private rent business, Lady Franklin is clearly not that kind of clever woman of his tier, she befriends with him and it's not another DRIVING MISS DAISY (1989, 8/10) well-intentioned (racial) class-defying friendship crowd-pleaser, things will turn ugly as Ledbetter's escalating jealousy and infatuation towards Lady Franklin grows, which will end up with a clumsy self-destructive finale driven by indignant impulse (he doesn't have the luck and handsomeness which befits the romantic credentials in DOWNTOWN ABBEY).

It is again a glum, inclement England, the lamenting dirge belts out along the first half of the film, Lady Franklin, bears a frail delicacy and her indecisive nerve of "getting the knack" to continue her life in the countryside getaway, bespeaks a damsel-in-mistress desperate for a savior (her ill-tempered, apathetic and self-centered mother, Elizabeth Sellars brings the role point-blank accuracy, for sure is more of a nuisance than a comfort here), so Ledbetter, who is professional and pretty sentient of their social disparity at first, would slowly capitulate to Lady Franklin's daring openness and closeness, and mistakes it as a kind of mutual affection (reaches to the pinnacle when he receives a helluva bunch of money from her to save his bogus financial mire), for Lady Franklin, she is much obliging to give the dole as it is a sort of compensation towards Ledbetter's optimum services and a relief to her own conscience (an upper class privilege) as well, money is her final offer, not love, of which we onlookers are all fully aware but not Ledbetter, in his eyes, it is a signal of devotion, an illusion while kindness mis-conceited as the flame of desire, especially when the benefactor is from a higher-up echelon, naturally the delusion has to be unsparingly shattered, it is the perpetual tragedy resides within the classes between "sanctimonious" upstairs and "covetous" downstairs. Like Shelton Cooper from THE BIG BANG THEORY rightfully teases "the upstairs should never eat with downstairs, it will only give them a false hope of the life they would never be involved", which I'm paraphrasing here.

With all respect to the team effort, THE HIRELING doesn't ring true as a prestigious Palme d'Or champion, it is nothing but a solid period feature carries a powder peg to indict the tenacious scourge, and eventually misfired.

"Lady Franklin" (Sarah Miles) is reduced to an emotional black fog following the death of her husband during the War and her close friends seem unable to reach her. It might be that her chauffeur can do that, as she gradually begins to bond with "Steven" (Robert Shaw). He is a fastidious and proud, self-employed, gent who is polite and charming to her. He even lets her sit in the front with him - despite the inappropriateness, familiarity even, of this. She begins to treat him more like a confidant, hiring him more often and spending more time with him for the sake of it. As time progresses, he begins to find himself more drawn to her, but he knows the class divide is immense and that she is also being courted by veteran "Capt. Cantrip" (Peter Egan) whom we can determine fairly easily isn't so much interested in her as in her fortune. What chance the societal norms can be broken? Can anything ever transpire between them? When it comes down to it, does she actually want it to? Shaw and Miles are on great form here. The former delivers a delicately accumulating characterisation of a man conflicted by an innate understanding of his own position in the great scheme of things, but one increasingly infatuated in and concerned for his employer. The latter plays the emotionally disturbed character equally effectively, with a degree of demure frustration that seems to be desperate to break from her shell of conformity, whilst equally addicted to it's security. It's a grand looking production with loads of attention to the detail in the production design, but it is really the cumulating toxicity that emanates from Shaw that seals the seal here, showing the iniquities of the class system don't just work in the one direction.

The novel was exquisite. I bought a good used copy after seeing the trailer. I finished the book and watched the film; I was confused because it is that different. As a stand-alone venture, it maybe decent enough but this is a great example of how not to adapt a well-written book! Read the book, please, then maybe watch this and be disappointed.

A British drama; A story about an upper-class widow suffering from depression over the loss of her husband, who develops an unusual relationship with her chauffeur. This is an adaptation of L.P. Hartley's novel. It has a measured pace and a care for the telling detail. It shows the vast barrier between social classes, suppressed sexuality, and of a casualness. One side is cold, yearning for warmth; the other, striving but painfully frustrated yet they give one another the confidence one grants a stranger. Robert Shaw is remarkable as the chauffeur, an ex-sergeant major, ramrod straight, filled with a sense of class and keeping his place. Sara Miles's aristocrat is equally well drawn as the widow, childless, on release from a sanitarium. Their scenes are marked by intriguing sequences: long, uninterrupted car rides through an overcast, rainy Somerset. The work up to the final scenes is gentle and slowly paced to maximise tension. This is a film very well directed, earning the Palme d'Or in 1973.