Il importe d'être constant

Oscar Wilde's most famous play is given an extremely stage-bound reading in this colour adaptation by Anthony Asquith. It evens starts and ends with the raising and lowering of a theatre curtain!

That aside this is probably the essential Wilde movie – not only do we get the main four role perfectly cast (Michael Redgrave as Jack, Michael Denison as Algy, Dorothy Tutin as Cecily, Joan Greenwood as Gwendolen), we also have two of the most delightfully eccentric portrayals in the history of cinema with Margaret Rutherford as Miss Prism, and, of course, Edith Evans as Lady Bracknell. Who could resist the way Dame Edith says ‘a handbag!'

A hugely enjoyable movie which makes sure none of the wit is lost in unnecessary padding or setting – something the makers of the recent remake could learn from.

Delightful film adaptation of Oscar Wilde's superb play about Victorian-era English manners and mix-ups. The play and performances are so close to Mr. Wilde's original words, you really can't go wrong; although, on close inspection, there are clearly some logistical problems. For example, it is shot beautifully, but without a flourish or imagination worthy of Wilde. And, cameras emphasize things that wouldn't have mattered with the otherwise marvelous cast on stage. To be fair, the film acknowledges this in its execution.

Everyone is exemplary, but elderly Aunt Edith Evans really demands to be seen. She possess the role of "Lady Augusta Bracknell" for all eternity, and would be famous for merely uttering the two words "A handbag?" but, every word and phoneme slips sardonically from the mind of Oscar Wilde to dame Edith's tongue. Ms. Evans should have received some "Best Supporting Actress" notice, but this was released in 1952, not 1948, and American voters were favoring homegrown material.

Pity.

******** The Importance of Being Earnest (6/2/52) Anthony Asquith ~ Michael Redgrave, Michael Denison, Edith Evans, Joan Greenwood

I haven't yet seen the 2002 theatrical film version of Wilde's classic, perhaps because I can't see how anyone, not even Judi Dench, could improve upon Dame Edith Evans's immortal portrayal of that deathless battle-axe, Lady Bracknell. And then there's Margaret Rutherford and Miles Malleson wittily playing characters that fitted them to a "T." Not to mention the unctuously delicious Joan Greenwood, whose line readings caress one's ears like the aural equivalent of a framboise liqueur. Dorothy Tutin was a perfect wise-for-her-young-years ingenue. But the men, in my view, were merely serviceable, with Michael Denison, especially, somewhat of an annoyance. The Technicolor mounting, deliberately stagey, was eye candy of the best sort, like an extravagantly decorated old-fashioned box containing the sort of confections one would savor to the very last morsel. Great fun!

Irish-born Oscar Wilde, who managed to die in Paris at only 46 years of age, formed part of that school of renegé novelists and poets from the Emerald Isle which included James Joyce. Indeed, these and other Irish writers were banned from publication in England and I seem to remember that James Joyce's earlier works were actually published in French before being allowed into print in English in the U.K.

Tut, tut, such piquant and avant-garde ideas would be too much for the genteel Victorian aristocracy living safely tucked up in hypocracy-ladened gallantry. Fortunately, for the colony-enriched classes, the `plebianism' of Charles Dickens was too long ago for their short memories, or never made it onto their bookshelves. Notwithstanding, from such gentlemanly proceedings such wit is born and which was soon to become one of the outstanding achievements of finest British humour: the ability to laugh at one's own foibles.

To this effect we must be, in great part, indebted to Mr. Wilde in general, and to `The Importance of Being Earnest' in particular. No other play of this genre has been so enacted and so many times converted into film and in so many languages as this classic of upper-crust comportment. Among the numerous versions available on film, this one by the irreplaceable Dame Edith Evans goes down as being the model from which any other readings must inevitably be taken. Dame Edith Evans IS Lady Bracknell; even Judy Dench is only playing the rôle in comparison.

The rising and setting of the curtain at the beginning and end of the film makes it totally clear that the play is to be seen on film but as if we – the spectators – were in the theatre. And so it should be: any free hand at getting away from such concept might well be unstomacheable, as well as irritating to admirers of the classics or simply people like myself who try not to be too pedantic. There are plenty of modern examples of William Shakespeare's plays on film which faithfully adhere to the original concepts and which do not lose anything in the telling. In this respect we can say that this version of the play is on target: what might seem exaggerated portrayals of the characters – especially Dame Edith Evan's reading of Lady Bracknell – indeed to my mind fulfills precisely what Oscar Wilde intended. Nobody else can ejaculate `F….o….u….n….d?' in five syllables as Dame Edith Evans does.

Fifty years on, this is still the version from which any other attempts will be judged. I hope I am not being earnest in excess…….

Oscar Wilde's celebrated masterpiece is a comedy on three levels. First there is the denotative level, one might say, the level in which the bourgeois are entertained après dîner. It is on this level that Oscar Wilde follows the great theatrical tradition of comedy from the time of the Greeks through Shakespeare and French farce into the twentieth century to the musical comedy of the London and New York stage. His play on this level is a comedy of manners, pleasant, charming and very clever. The class conscious jokes about the lower orders and the servants are double-edged and add just a touch of squirm to the laughter of the not completely discerning audience. It is on the second level that The Importance of Being Earnest becomes one of the greatest plays ever written. On this level, the comedy is a full blown satire of Victorian society, and in particular of its audience. Wilde had the very great pleasure of flattering and making fun of the audience while being applauded for doing so. His subtitle for the play, "A Trivial Comedy for Serious People" is an allusion to these two levels. It is on this second level that Wilde speaks through the voice of Lady Bracknell (and sometimes Algernon), whose ironic and unself-conscious cynicism is so like his own. It is on this level that all the fun is made of the hypocrisy of marriage and its mercenary nature, at least as practiced by the petite bourgeoisie of London town, circa 1895. But there is a third level, a level known of course to the cognoscenti of the time and to modern audiences, but for the most part never dreamed of by the London theater-goers of the day. In this regard I have recently read that "Earnest" was a slang euphemism for being gay, and I suspect this is true. Indeed, I can imagine a whole world of witticism based on being "earnest" and being "Ernest," a world now (perhaps charitably) forgotten. Certainly this knowledge sheds some light on Jack's invention of his invalid friend "Bunbury," whom he finds he must visit to escape unwanted social engagements.

One of the best things about this great play is one can appreciate it on any one of the three levels and find delight on that level alone. One can see Worthy as John Worthy, or as Jack Worthy, or as Ernest Worthy, however one likes. This adaptation, starring the incomparable Dame Edith Evans as Lady Bracknell, and Michael Redgrave (father of Vanessa and Lynn Redgrave) as John Worthy is of course the justly celebrated, clearly definitive screen adaptation. It should be noted, however, that Lady Bracknell is the real star of the show, and when she enters a scene, she steals it. Edith Evans was brilliant and unforgettable and obviously having a wonderful time. Margaret Rutherford is a scream as Miss Prism and Miles Malleson as Chasuble is just, shall I say, darling. I should note that both the male leads were a touch too old for their parts. Redgrave was 42 and Michael Denison, who played Algernon, was 37 when the movie was released in 1952. Yet I think Oscar Wilde would have approved of the casting, probably finding it admirable and fitting that these two men about town would have avoided marriage for so many years. (I won't mention the ages of the actresses.) Joan Greenwood as Gwendolyn achieves just the right amount of flaky innocence and calculated whimsy, while Dorothy Tutin is the very definition of the spoiled, sweet and adorable, man-hunting Cecily Cardew. The direction by Anthony Asquith is unnecessarily directive in the sense that he moved some scenes around, but is essentially without harm.

The best way to appreciate this play, and to pick up all the nuances, and there are nuances aplenty--and jokes upon jokes, sharp social and political observations, and witticisms within prevarications, and lies that are truths and vice-versa--is to view the video, just appreciating it on one level, then read the script, and then view the video again. You're in for a treat.

(Note: Over 500 of my movie reviews are now available in my book "Cut to the Chaise Lounge or I Can't Believe I Swallowed the Remote!" Get it at Amazon!)