A Classe Governante

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.

No other actor has had a career filled with more idiosyncratic roles than Peter O'Toole, and his role in "The Ruling Class" is perhaps the most idiosyncratic of them all.

O'Toole plays the heir to a British House of Lords who dies accidentally (and bizarrely), leaving his family to hash out the estate. The family is much disturbed by the fact that O'Toole is the heir -- understandably so, since he believes that he's Jesus Christ. Much wackiness ensues, until O'Toole has a change of perspective and decides that instead of Christ, he's Jack the Ripper. More wackiness ensues, the film gets darker and darker in that way that only British films can, and the whole thing may leave you scratching your head but will no doubt also leave you gloriously entertained.

For O'Toole fans, this is a chance to see him single-handedly carry a delirious mess of a movie on his shoulders, and make a rousing success out of it. Much of it doesn't make a lot of sense, but it's all a hoot, especially the impromptu musical numbers peppered throughout the film. There's some scathing satire aimed at the British class system, but it's nothing you haven't seen before, and the whole film has the feeling of being the pet project of an undisciplined director. But I highly recommend this, because you've never seen anything quite like it, and it's a chance to see one of our generation's greatest actors strutting his stuff like the pro that he is.

Grade: A

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.

The Ruling class is a disturbing commentary on the nature and necessity of our whole belief systems. It both highlights the extreme fragility of those beliefs, and takes gently mocking aim at us for our dependency on them. Viewed in that light, the film succeeds 100%. When viewed merely as a satire on the British ruling classes, of course it doesn't. It goes far deeper, becoming also an essay on our tendency to manipulate others for our own benefit: the characters' collective idiosyncrasies serve as punctuation for that essay. Brilliantly acted, often hilarious but always profoundly moving, it is a genuine classic of its kind, notwithstanding its undeniable, though relatively minor, flaws. I'd love to have it on DVD!

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.