Le Knack... et comment l'avoir

The Knack is a comedy that is wildly exuberant in its editing style, sort of like Lester came out of a marathon of Godard movies from the period but on a bunch of pop rocks or some other candy confection, and he and his editor Anthony Gibbs (who was more comfortable with the 'Kitchen Sink' type movies than something like Hard Days Night, just look at his credits to see his name attached to nearly all the major titles) decided to go wild. Sometimes this works for the sake of the energy and decidedly... uncertain, going-in-many-directions-not-settled nature of the main character Colin (Michael Crawford), and sometimes it doesn't.

Where it doesn't work for certain are the cut-always, almost in a strange, semi-satirical but documentary style where older people comment on these young people, whether it's Crawford or Rita Tushingham's character Nancy, who has only one real goal for the most part which is to find the YMCA in town, and they say things like "Mods and rockers" or "why in my day..." and things like that. I get what Lester was going for, that we have these outside perspectives almost as a commentary *on them*, but those little bits (sprinkled throughout the movie) are dated. Where the movie does still work is in creating a genuinely unsettling tone, and this creates a lot of moments of unexpected comedy - at times this is really a story about guys arguing over space in a flat and moving things around, bordering, if it were in lessor hands or those of today, like a sitcom, and then... it's also a story of toxic masculinity as a part of it.

Another thing about looking at historical context - a year later, a version of the roommate/sorta-friend Tolen's type would appear as the "anti-hero(ish)" persona of Michael Caine's Alfie. But where Caine is an actor who can sort of make you feel if not much sympathy or empathy then at least some human understanding to his character (also, he's the lead, so what can you do but go for the ride with him), Ray Brooks is positively slimy as this guy who is somehow going to show Colin how to "get the Knack", which means how to get women. Somehow this is also communicated earlier, without much dialog needed, when Colin, as the school-teacher he is, for a moment gets distracted along with the other kids as they ogle at the girls outside (though he snaps out of it to try and be a disciplinarian... which he's bad at).

But anyway, Brooks at first comes off seeming like the "cool" playboy type, or, more accurately (and I have to think Lester meant this as an intentional homage), Marcello Mastroianni out of 8 1/2 or La Dolce Vita (he even at one point does what seems like a "mock" whipping when Colin is playing around with Nancy... and then it doesn't seem like playing around anymore). Yet there's another level of commentary going on here; a version of this kind of movie could feasibly even show up many years after this as like, say, a college comedy or even a romantic comedy (an edgier one, but still). Watch as Brooks corners Tushingham in that room - his body language, his demeanor (does he *ever* genuinely smile, is the actor's question and choice he goes for, and its effective), it all leads to the question of being a sexual predator; how he got the "birds" he's had before one may question by this point - did he always have "the Knack", or did some of these girls not care so much if he had the hair or suit or Marcello glasses of whatever?

The point is, this leads to the last stretch of the movie, which becomes... kind of a very odd joke about rape. Of course Nancy isn't really raped, not in the way we think as technically speaking.... but isn't it all the same the kind of 'rape' or sexual assault and language that has made things as of late in this country so f***ed up? It was impossible not to think about that, and yet Lester finds... humor in this(?)

I think the key is that he goes all out about it - she wakes up after fainting from being so provoked (and yes, there *is* that element, let's not ever leave Tolen off the hook here, creep he is), and then proceeds to say 'RAPE!' over and over again (in one belly-laugh moment she goes up to a random house, knocks, the person answers, Rita says 'rape', and the old woman at the door says dead-pan, 'no thanks.'). It's not the rape that is funny, but the public's reactions to it, how it IS a chaotic and horrible thing in reality, but if it didn't actually happen... well, can it still be funny? I wonder what most people coming to this fresh would think about how Lester treats this material and these characters.

It's a strange combination since it's a light-hearted affair - the highlight of the film involves when Colin and Tom, the other (new) roommate, first meet Nancy while they're collecting a bed frame, and have to move it themselves, on foot, across the city, and this scored to a jubilant, jazzy, wonderful and even happy kind of music by John Barry - but it deals in real hurt and pain that is caused by men who won't take bloody no for an answer. It's not something Lester is out to solve (I have no idea how it was in the play this was based on), however he does find a cinematic grammar that breaks apart how a mind thinks in moments that rattle the consciousness or when one's mind wanders and so on. It's a brash experiment that doesn't hold up as well as Lester's Beatles films, but it's fun and original while it lasts, which is at a fairly brisk 82 minutes.

A steady stream of very attractive and nearly identical manikins come to life and march starry-eyed around the block and up the stairs to a flat where they briefly meet the object of their desire before dutifully signing his guest book on the way out. The man they came to see is the suave Lothario who will try to mentor the socially awkward teacher living downstairs in the "knack" of seducing women. As so often happens in situations like this, they will eventually end up competing for the affections of the same intriguing ingénue.

This may sound like an overused cliché likely to result in a formulaic romantic comedy, but director Richard Lester gives us something very different as he presents the story through a combination of exaggerated caricatures, fantasy sequences and zany metaphors. The result is that we are not so much interested in the details of the story as we are in the fun we have reaching the inevitable conclusion and the social commentary we encounter along the way.

Created in 1965, Lester makes a hefty contribution to the creation of a frenetic visual style of comedy which will be imitated with great commercial success throughout the rest of the decade (think "Laugh-In"). With its mod styling, rapid-fire editing, non sequiturs and wacky antics, Lester effectively uses this style to provide some wickedly clever parody of early 1960s sexism, conformity and consumerism.

The film is unfortunately not without some serious flaws. The comic style which may have seemed fresh and exciting at the time has not aged well. The good-natured mood of the film robs the social commentary of any punch or staying power, as does the failure to integrate it into a unifying framework. Also, the four main characters may be wonderfully portrayed with excellent comic acting, but only one of them is scripted such that he ever becomes human enough for us to care what happens to him, something which is essential in a story that is entirely about the relationships between the main characters.

One may find this to be a very enjoyable and memorable film in spite of these flaws, but it clearly requires that you recognize how to accept what it attempts to offer rather than criticizing it for what it doesn't deliver. I'd also think that it's a valuable film for anyone interested in the 1960s mass media image of swinging London and in the trends influencing popular entertainment during that time period.

There are lots of things to like in this movie: glimpses of London, black and white photography, likable young actors, old fogies, fast pace, great music, but one gets the impression that the original play was cut, and there is nothing that would have interested me more than the uncut play, flaws and all. That would have been more interesting than the touches from Max Sennett and Jacques Tati.

The play's central message seems quite conventional: nerd gets the best girl, playboy overwhelmed with his mannequins. For all the mockery of the old folks, the values permeating this plot are old folks' values. The view of women is passive. They don't swing, they are merely "taken advantage of", and the nicest girls is the most virginal, as if sexual activity were incompatible with niceness, and virginity were incompatible with napalm. But that's movies for you: always asserting the unassailable, rocking the cradle instead of the boat.

Tushingam steals the show. She has more screen presence than Garbo.

Attention, All You Carnally-Curious Viewers! - If you want the "knack" and seriously wanna know "how to get it" - Then steer clear of this quirky, off-the-wall, 1965, comedy - 'Cause it's sure to leave your head spinning, as you find yourself even more clueless than you already are.

If nothing else - "The Knack" (directed by American film-maker, Richard Lester) is (movie-wise) historically significant in that it is sandwiched in between 2 of Lester's more notable pictures - "A Hard Day's Night" and "Help!", which, of course, starred the Beatles.

Even though "The Knack" (which was set in London and filmed in b&w) is a pretty silly and scatterbrained tale about the lustful pursuit for sexual conquests - It certainly did have its interesting and entertaining moments.

And, yes - With "The Knack" now being 52 years old - It is, indeed, dated - But still definitely worth a view. Yet - With that said - I do caution you, that its decidedly-eccentric brand of humour isn't gonna appeal to everyone.

'Richard' Lester (as he was then billed) had just scored a huge hit with 'A Hard Day's Night' and before he moved on to 'Help' indulged himself with this raucous adaptation of Ann Jellicoe's play which today looks more of a museum piece than either of the films he made with the Fab Four (compounded with a light-hearted attitude to rape that certainly won't sit well with today's #MeToo generation).

Set off by a snazzy score by John Barry, in it's frantic desire to be 'with it' it gets rather tiring and it's sobering to reflect that most of the bright young things that inhabit it are now in their eighties; but if you look fast you'll spot a wetsuited eighteen year-old Charlotte Rampling who still looks just as icily handsome in her late seventies.