TOM JONES (1963), dir. Tony Richardson

It’s Not Unusual to be Loved by Anyone...

Likewise, it’s hardly surprising that a populist hit movie—and earner of five Academy Awards, including Best Picture, Best Director for Tony Richardson, and Best Adapted Screenplay for John Osborne—should be so darn entertaining. Again, look at the accolades “Tom Jones” earned! While Oscar rarely goes to the finalist that best stands the test of time, it’s equally rare for a prior “best picture” to make us scratch our heads and ask, “How did that even get nominated…?”

Now, of course, there have been exceptions. But in early 1964, when the much-venerated Academy voting body decided to honor this adaptation of Henry Fielding’s classic novel, they did their legacy no shame. “Tom Jones” is a thoroughly enjoyable romp, featuring beautiful scenery, witty dialogue, light-hearted direction that serves the material well, and a star-making turn by then-unknown actor Albert Finney.

While already enjoying leading man status on the British stage, the movie made Finney an overnight star and sex symbol. Tom Jones appears to be the role he was born to play. With his strapping, bucolic build, boyish good looks, and guileless green eyes, he perfectly embodies the character. We believe that kindness and decency lie in his heart, as his adopted uncle, Squire Allworthy (George Devine), repeatedly claims. At the same time, the way Finney’s eyes seem to fog over whenever a lovely specimen of the female gender happens by, reminds us of Jones’ central vice, which nearly brings about his undoing.

Albert has been doing the Finney-ous fog thing for decades, most recently in Tim Burton’s “Big Fish," where their misty quality fit the dreamy nature of Edward Bloom. In “Tom Jones,” Richardson uses Finney’s eyes to reflect a man at the mercy of his own compulsion. Thanks to those orbs, we cannot hold Tom in complete contempt. We really believe this poor guy cannot help himself. Witness the scene between Tom and a woman with most seductive eyes and a coquettish smile. As the camera cuts back-and-forth between them, and the lady becomes increasingly interested in the hunky lad sitting across the table from her, he also goes through changes, which can be read off Finney's face.

At first, Tom seems possessed by a nervous tremble, which isn't fear so much as inner conflict. He fights against the lust which has begun working its way up from his loins. Each time the camera cuts back to Tom’s face, however, another layer of his defenses has been peeled away. Eventually, he goes too far to turn around, the redness of his face becoming too deep, the goofy grin curled too much at the ends. As for thoughts of his true love, Sophie, we can practically detect the moment when she temporarily vanishes from his mind, overwhelmed as it is by the urging of his gonads.

It’s Tom’s inability to control himself, exploited by Blifil (David Warner), his jealous half-brother, and a pair of scheming tutors named Thwackum (Peter Bull) and Square (John Moffatt), that lead to his getting tossed from his guardian’s estate. They catch him fornicating with Molly (Diane Cilento), a woman of ill reputation (Ironically, Mr. Square is one of the reasons for her compromised reputation). While Squire Allworthy has raised Tom like his own son, the boy has always behaved like a rascal. The news regarding Molly, sprinkled with a few lies from Thwackum and Square, leaves Allworthy at his wit’s end. Finding no alternative, he decides he must cast Tom out into the wide world.

Adding insult to injury, Tom learns before departing that Sophie (the fetching Susannah York), his childhood sweetheart and daughter of Squire Allworthy’s wealthy neighbor, Squire Western, has been betrothed to his unworthy half-brother. Sophie is hardly pleased by the news herself, despite the merits argued by her dull aunt (Dame Edith Evans), and the roaring approval of her bellicose father (Hugh Griffith, who steals many a scene pinballing back-and-forth between tranquil inebriation and utter bedlam). Being the rowdy, sporting type, Squire Western actually prefers Tom to Mr. Blifil. But the lad is no heir, and Sophie is his only daughter. While he yet draws breath, Squire Western refuses to allow her to marry some penniless bastard, and so Tom becomes his enemy (To the squire's credit, he also thumbs his nose at foppish city dandies).

Tom’s journey to London—where a reference from his uncle may yet bring him good fortune—gets sidetracked by some Christian soldiers, who relieve him of his moneypurse. Later, he stumbles across one of the more villainous soldiers attempting a rape beside the forest road. Tom rises to the occasion, and rescues the damsel in distress. The woman, who claims to be called Mrs. Waters, rewards our hero by dining with him at a quaint country inn. She moons over him most invitingly. Following the hearty repast, they retreat to an upstairs room for more spirited fun, which is interrupted by a cuckolded husband who bursts into their room.

The various characters Tom encounters reappear throughout the movie, some of them playing pivotal roles. Also included is the man long believed to be Tom’s father. He accompanies our hero to London, where Sophie has also escaped to. Unfortunately, at the previous town, she stumbled across Tom’s indiscretion with Mrs. Waters. Since she no longer wishes to see her former sweetheart, it is up to the lad to work himself back into Sophie’s good graces. His desperation brings him into contact with the manipulative society maven Lady Bellaston (Joan Greenwood). She takes a fancy to Tom, and under the pretense of helping him reunite with the girl he loves, makes him her boytoy, and further sullies his reputation.

Will Sophie reconcile with Tom, or will she be dragged back to the country by her apoplectic father? Can she and Tom really live happily ever after, given his prior betrayal of her? About two-thirds of the way through the film, a strange twist of fate combined with youthful hotheadedness leads to blood being spilled. Then the main question becomes: Will Tom live at all?

Since the last thing I want to do is give away the ending, I will simply refer back to the beginning of this review, wherein I wrote that “Tom Jones” was an “enjoyable romp,” with “beautiful scenery,” “witty dialogue,” and “light-hearted direction.” What kind of ending do you think a movie of this sort would have? But since Tony Richardson helmed it, and John Osborne, who wrote Richardson’s first film "Look Back in Anger" for the stage, served as screenwriter, I did expect more social commentary. That earlier film focused on lower-class people, and found significance in their lives, nobility in their grittiness. I assumed this was the appeal of "Tom Jones" for Richardson, that the title character, despite being born a bastard, is far nobler than many of the movie’s more legitimate gentlemen. He saves Sophie from a runaway horse. He offers to pay the inn bill for the soldiers’ company, even though one of their number attacked him. When Mrs. Waters is being waylayed by a sexual predator, Tom runs to her aid.

Also telling is how Tom decides to take on, and provide for, the destitute man he thought was his father. The familial link isn’t his reason for doing this. Rather, the reputation of fathering a bastard child followed the man wherever he applied subsequent to being dismissed by Squire Allworthy. Tom cannot help feeling partially responsible, since he himself was the bastard. But his decision shows he has a sense of honor that belies his humble blood.

Meanwhile, Tom’s moral and social superiors engage in backstabbing and manipulation. Mr. Blifil and his tutors exploit facts at Tom’s expense. Lady Bellaston convinces a nobleman enamored with Sophie to force himself on her. Mr. Square is a moral hypocrite. True, several characters of equal social rank to Tom do questionable things, too. But the scale of regrettable behaviors seems to be proportional to the size of one’s coffers. Squire Western, though good for a laugh, is a total wreck. When he isn’t drop-dead drunk or fornicating amid livestock, he leads a deer chase that destroys some poor family’s farm. Watching “Tom Jones,” I began to have some inkling why Jimmy Porter, the main protagonist of “Look Back in Anger,” detested the upper class so much.

How strange then, that Richardson presents these contrasts, but withholds passing any final judgement. The dishonest half-brother and tutors never get foisted by their own petard. Not even after the truth about a certain document pilfered by Mr. Blifil gets revealed. There appears to be a total lack of punishment for immoral behavior in the film. The soldier who wronged Tom doesn’t get his comeuppance (Although, to the movie’s credit, he never wins out, either). Even Tom, though not a bad person, has a vice that never gets so much as a rebuke.

(WARNING! THE FOLLOWING CONTAINS DETAILS OF A SPOILOUS NATURE!—Sure, Sophie’s mad at him for a while for diddling Mrs. Waters. But could she really dump the lout and marry Blifil instead?. So the ending, while very upbeat, doesn’t seem convincing. Sophie’s honey never actually undergoes a transformation from ladies man to loyal lover. String music alone does not guarantee he can be faithful, even after a joyous reunion and inevitable marriage. )

Of course, the movie was made in the sixties. Being a cad might have been okay back then, since AIDS had yet to be a problem. Or it might just be Richardson’s aesthetic speaking. After all, he helped pioneer British “kitchen sink style,” which was partially-based on documentary. But even if Richardson decided not to make a statement film, preferring to observe from a distance, there’s no denying he brought a strong visual sense to Osborne's screenplay. “Tom Jones” is supposed to be a “fun” movie, and the director underscores that every chance he gets. As a result, the audience gets treated to wipes of all shapes and sizes, a narrator who says pithy things such as, “It is said that too much wine will dull a man’s senses. That much is true, in a dull man.” Richardson even speeds up a chase sequence, which guarantees it will tickle the funny bone.

Now if only he had chosen to make us think, and not only amuse us on a superficial level.

Overall rating: *** (out of ****)

LOOK BACK IN ANGER (1958), dir. Tony Richardson

Beginnings of a Genre that was All the Rage.

The best thing about “Look Back in Anger” is Richard Burton, whose volcanic performance as Jimmy Porter set the bar for angry young men in Great Britain.

Like Malcolm McDowell in Lindsay Anderson’s “If…” (among other films in the “angry young man” genre released during the following decade), Jimmy isn’t thuggish as much as he is disaffected. His answer to the question of what he wants in life—“Everything… nothing…”—indicates a profound confusion about his own place in the universe. Though college educated, he lives in relative squalor. Though bestowed with artistic gifts, these traits haven’t helped him achieve much in the wider world. Perhaps Jimmy is just too lazy to apply himself, and prefers hurling invectives from the sidelines at others. At any rate, Jimmy’s life is his soapbox, from which he rails against the upper-class, popular culture, and everything in between.

For the most part, Jimmy’s audience consists of his wife, Alison (Mary Ure), and close pal Cliff (Gary Raymond). Cliff occupies the spare room in the couples’ flat, and works at Jimmy’s candy stand. A close friend, he often acts as peacekeeper when tensions between the Porters flare up. Usually, it’s Jimmy who goes too far, making one too many snide remarks about Alison’s family, or Alison herself.

On the morning of a particularly ugly incident, Jimmy is seething because his wife has written a letter to her parents. They happen to be old money-types who never approved of the marriage, and it incenses Jimmy that she maintains communications, when he has abandoned all civility. Jimmy makes relentless fun of them while Alison goes about her ironing, pretending to ignore him. This only makes him try even harder to get a rise out of his wife. Cliff tries to persuade his pal to back off. But that leads to rough horseplay, which causes Alison to burn her arm.

After Jimmy retreats to the nearby pub, following harsh looks from his wife, Cliff tries to comfort Alison. He mentions that he is thinking of abandoning their crazy household. In a moment of intimacy between friends (although it is implied that Cliff thinks of Alison more strongly than that), he asks why she doesn’t just give up on the abusive marriage, and leave Jimmy.

“I’m afraid,” Alison replies. After all, she isn’t sure her parents, whom she is estranged from, will take her back. Later, however, we find out more. Alison is pregnant, has been pregnant several months, and has yet to tell Jimmy. She has vacillated on the decision of letting him know, and now feels uncertain she wants to have the baby at all, since it would cement her bond to this angry young man. In desperation, Alison seeks the counsel of Helena Charles (Claire Bloom), a childhood friend who happens to have landed a role in the local play.

Helena—a prim, raven-haired beauty—presents a fine constrast to Alison, who possesses straw-blond hair and more earthly charms. Helena also appears to be the more stronger-willed of the two women. She refuses to be brought down by Jimmy’s snide remarks, although an attempt on his part for “a little fun,” crashing one of her rehearsals, nearly pushes her over the edge of good behavior.

Having witnessed the way Jimmy treats her, Helena desperately tries to convince Alison to leave him. Her main problem, however, is that she still finds herself attracted to the fire that burns incessently inside her husband. She relates the story of how they met—Jimmy walking into the dance at her old town, covered in motor oil, seemingly burning even then. While that reminiscence doesn’t change Helena’s opinion about how bad a husband Jimmy is, she admits that such an angry man must make life exciting. At this point, a strange look comes over Helena, which implies a possible weakness to the very trap she is trying to extricate her friend from.

Will Alison run away from Jimmy? Will Jimmy change his ways after finding out that he is going to be a father? Will Cliff really jump ship, leaving his two closest pals to their domestic strife? And ultimately, is Helena to play a larger role than enabler to all this?

Director Tony Richardson and screenwriter Nigel Kneale—with John Osborne providing additional dialogue for his adapted stage work—resolve everything in a relatively unsurprising fashion. More compelling are the insights into Jimmy, what motivates his contempt for religion, culture, even education. He was once the beneficiary of university training, but now, the way he uses erudite words in his rants seems like a deliberate attempt to bring them down, to make them vulgar.

So why is Jimmy full of rage? The answer, it turns out, falls into what Orson Welles cited as “pop psychology:” Like Charles Foster Kane, Jimmy Porter suffered a childhood trauma. He lost someone dear to him. Now he resists the love of those who would willingly give it, pushing them away with insults, sometimes unconsciously. But at the same time, nothing seems to make Jimmy sadder than the thought of one more friend going away. “The child is father to the man,” sayeth the poet Gerald Manley Hopkins. In his heart, Jimmy wants everything to be the way it was back when he was a little boy, back when he was happy.

But alas, the nature of life dictates that people must move on, must leave us, must change. The realization on Jimmy’s part—that people never stay, that nothing remains the same—fuels his rage at life itself. At a relatively young age, he already learned the inevitability of death. So now, at twenty-five, he firmly says to hell with earthly ambition, and to hell with love, money, art, and other earthly trifles (Basically, he adopts the whole “angry young man” thing).

Jimmy has stared into the abyss, and having not fallen in, turned away scarred. Only the appearance of a soul mate, worn down as much as him by despair and bitterness, can bring out his long-dormant sense of empathy. That is the only way Jimmy can ever change, and while such a fate has tragic implications, it also provides a strange sense of comfort when it finally comes along, and saves him.

Overall rating: ***1/2 (out of ****)