Sister act… The Killing of Sister George (1968)

 

There are so many remarkable things about this production it’s easy to overlook the fact that it was primarily shot in Hollywood with Director Robert Aldrich shifting the very British cast and crew over to the west coast and his Aldrich Studios in Los Angeles. There are plenty of location shots in London boozers and the streets around Hampstead all the way down to Chiswick to give the right impression but, of course, the soul of repression, and sheer vicious disappointment is uniquely British.

 

The film is based on Frank Marcus 1964 play in which Beryl Reid had also starred both in the West \end and then in 1966, Broadway when she was given a Tony Award. Marcus’ play hints at the nature of the relations but Aldrich wanted to make a more defined film about the scene in London, a year before make homosexuality was legalised and some of the stigma was removed from lesbianism. The latter was never criminalised because, as legend has it, Queen Victoria refused to believe that it existed… sound unlikely but if true, huge and very unfair on the poor men whose self-slaughter finally persuaded Parliament to take action.

 

The sexual politics aside there’s some fabulous footage of a lesbian bar which, in contrast to the majority of the film, shows ordinary women getting on with having a loving good time. George’s relationship with the much younger Alice "Childie" McNaught (Susannah York) is sometimes loving but also carries strange intimations of sadomasochism and cruelty. If Childie makes a mistake she has to go down on her knees and accept a punishment such as eating a cigar but, if she starts to pretend to enjoy the tobacco, Georgie gets upset and accuses her of “spoiling things”. Even with this very specifically sexualised reading, there’s more to George and Childie than meets the eye…

 

This allows for Aldrich not wanting to sensationalise his subject… and I don’t think he does, George is a tortured character and, in some ways, her sadism is just another expression of her sadness and inability to truly connect in a normal way without play acting, acting the fool or sexual role-play. Does she not know herself? She certainly hasn’t worked out what is going to happen to her career and, coincidentally her personal life when fashions change and suddenly, you’re left with a much shorter future.

 

Reid plays June "George" Buckridge, the titular star of a long-running soap opera called Sister George in which she plays a helpful district nurse riding around on a scooter, helping the locals sort out their day-to-day issues with a lovely west-country burr that could make light of even the most difficult of problems be it a double booking if the village hall or more worldly matters. Any similarity with The Archers and Mrs Dale’s Diaries is purely incidental. Be-loved characters persist in Manchester, as midwives, detectives and pillars of the community.

 

But George has heard rumours or, more specifically, has had rumours passed onto her in bad faith by some of the enemies she routines makes. George is very funny if you’re on her side by excoriating if you are not. And her acid tongue is the corrosive dark side to her character’s wholesomeness. Is she reaching the end of the line with her character, as other new parts start to finally, move her from the top of the polls.

 

It's worth mentioning some excellent work from Hugh Paddick as Freddie, the long-suffering director of the show who values George whilst also being aware of the danger she places herself in by kicking against the pricks. Chief amongst these is Ronald Fraser as Leo Lockhart, a proper act-or who has played in higher-brow productions that this and doesn’t mind who knows it. Sadly, he is the one who is winning the popular vote with viewers…

 

This professional pressure, aligned with George’s myriad self-doubts and irritations drives her to drink, although she doesn’t need much help in heading off in that direction. She skips out of a read through and heads to a local alehouse, drinking it dry before final call at 2.30pm – yes, dear readers, there as a time when public houses opened at 11-2,30pm and then again in the evening from 5.30 to just 10.30! How did we ever cope??

 

What George really needs is a loving relationship at home and someone who’ll listen to her miserable days with positive feedback and unconditional tenderness. Now Childie might be willing to provide many of these things but George is also at pains to make sure she’s dragged down with her too. Susannah York’s performance is almost the equal of Reid’s and her shocked, hurt response is vulnerable and open hearted. She’s not without resilience though, she plays the role George likes but is capable of more…

 

They’re an odd couple, Childie is almost half George’s age and very attractive… there are clearly issues and perhaps rather more than is credible. But it’s a drama…

 

Into this picture comes Coral Browne as Mercy Croft a well-meaning studio executive who visits George and Childie’s flat to discuss the rather thorny issue of when a drunken George got into a handsome cab with two nuns – one of which was a young Madelaine Smith – before assaulting them both verbally and physically… “well, hello girls!”. George defends the indefensible but agrees when she learns that Sister George is not in imminent danger but is falling behind in the ratings.

 

Then comes that great scene in Gateways lesbian nightclub where George and Childie go dressed as Hardy and Laurel respectively. Here we can see them getting on, the same sense of theatrical humour and the suggestion perhaps that their chemistry is stronger than it seems. Mercy Croft comes to see them in this world which the former married woman finds fascinatingly different… so much so that she starts to worry about George’s influence on the seemingly innocent Childie who’s artistic ambitions as a poet and more than a seamstress she thinks should be encouraged.

 

George becomes paranoid, especially when Childie goes missing for long hours and appears evasive. She’s always been scared that her pretty young friend will run off with a younger woman or, worse still a man, and takes advantage of the fact that she provides her with bed and board.

 

But pushing Childie only drives her closer towards the younger, but still older Mercy and, after Sister George’s demise is concerned Childie beg9ns to see more of Mercy… who leads her away from the climactic leaving party during which George leaves no bridge unburned, back home where the films’ most overtly sexual moment happens. It’s a remarkable moment which unnerved both actors but the power play between the two is exceptional and well directed by Aldrich. In the end a bitter George make sit clear that Childie might not be the catch she seems… sharper than a serpent’s tooth with extra venom.

 

Where is George left at the end of the film? Friendless and with a future as a talking cow on children’s TV? Who knows, but there’s ultimately a reflection that women’s careers in broadcast media were perhaps strictly defined by age than men’s. George isn’t punished for her way of life; she’s punished for her age and her unhappiness stems from an ultimately unhappy inability to really connect with people of either sex.

 

My memory of this film had it labelled in the “lesbian pays” sub-genre but there’s much more to George than that and Beryl Reid is frighteningly good in the part, spitting her sheer hate at all those who wrong her, a bully perhaps but also someone on the slide, raging against the dying of the light.

 

Not surprisingly the play has been revived a number of times over the years and this film is still worthy of your attention not least for the excellence of its three female leads.

Britannia waves the rules… The Ruling Class (1972)

It’s pretty quaint to see some present day reviewers describing this film as “dated” with its earnest concerns about the nobility. It’s not so much the target of this satire, they say, but the left-wing consensus behind it that may well no longer exist to the same extent… Whilst it’s true that the politics of the left have changed, the film and the play it was based on were always out of step with mainstream thought and are only dated by the reserve that now dominates the politico-creative arena.

Politics is more disorientated than it was but the modern nobility are no less powerful than they were in the 1960s and most of us only see the tip of the iceberg. This country has always been run by a loose self-perpetuating oligarchy that sustains itself through pragmatism and the genuine social mobility Britain can offer the talented exceptions. I don’t even think that’s a political observation in itself: just a statement of fact?

People, regardless of their abilities can still obtain great power and wealth simply by being born to the right parents and the Lords still sit in their own House, albeit in reduced, more qualified numbers. Wealth inequality is even greater than it was in 1972 and the ruling classes still send their sons to public schools and they still dominate the Government from which they still make decisions that lead to the deaths of working men and women in the national interest…

I don’t see that the satire of The Ruling Class is no longer relevant and whilst stylistically it may be of its time, it’s well directed by Peter Medak and has more cutting edge than the mountain of mainstream gag-merchants clogging our TV stations, theatres and arenas.

Mr O'Toole

Most of all it’s got Peter O’Toole throwing himself absolutely into the role of insane. His is such a wholehearted and sincere performance that quite often this film is one you watch through gritted teeth… it’s not comfortable viewing watching someone so evidently disturbed and the human instinct is to look away from abnormality. But, imagine the creative imagination employed to achieve this effect? O’Toole was an actor who took things to extremes and then pushed on.

Harry Andrews

The film opens with a speech from the 13th Earl of Gurney (Harry Andrews) in one of the Guild Halls – there’s not much substance but a collective recognition of Great British values. The Earl drives home to his massive mansion to be greeted by his faithful servant Tucker (Arthur Lowe on brilliant form) who patiently collects his lordships clothes as he discards them ready for bed then brings him the ballet skirt, stepladder and fine silken noose for his regular “nightcap” of auto-erotic asphyxiation.

Unfortunately this particular evening the Judge tries himself too hard and ends up paying the ultimate price…

Alistair Sim, James Villiers, Coral Browne and William Mervyn

The family gather for the reading of the will and what a mixed lot they are… the Earl’s brother, Sir Charles (William Mervyn) , his wife Lady Claire (Coral Browne)  and their  son Dinsdale (James Villiers) along with Bishop Lampton (the great Alastair Sim), appalled at the suggestion of an improper death. Sir Charles is eager to get matters resolved and to enjoy the fruits of the family estate but there’s a problem in the form of the Earl’s son, the rightful heir to the title but who has been locked up in a mental hospital for years.

The will is read and tucker receives a payment of £30,000 – he’ll drink to that – but then something stranger happens as Jack Arnold Alexander Tancred Gurney (O'Toole) arrives to claim his title of 14th Earl of Gurney.

But there’s a problem as Jack is clearly under the impression that he is Jesus Christ returned to earth to lead people back towards the light. None of this cuts any ice with Uncle Charles who quickly devises a plan to marry him off to his mistress Grace (Carolyn Seymour) produce a male heir and then have Jack declared incapable.

But Jack is not without allies and his Aunt wants him well for his own sake and also to frustrate her faithless husband’s ambitions. She encourages Jack’s psychiatrist, Dr Herder (Michael Bryant) and the two begin an affair of their own.

If this all sounds convoluted you need to remember that the film’s purpose is to lampoon Upper Class ambition and “rules”. It’s also a powerful visual fantasy in which Jack’s mental state is often shown on screen. There are Dennis Potter-esque musical numbers – often very funny – as well as the world seen through Jack’s eyes.

He is convinced that he once married The Lady of the Camellias and, as cynical planning would have it, Grace arrives as the Lady herself singing an aria from the opera. Jack is captivated as he is supposed to be but Grace also begins to develop feelings for her “mark”…

Jack’s religious mania continues and he often rests on a crucifix in the study before descending to preach to his family and anyone who visits about love.

Meanwhile Tucker is revealed as a revolutionary “cell” all on his own, dedicated to overthrowing the establishment and seizing control of the means of production… after he’s finished the next bottle that is.

Grace becomes pregnant and it becomes imperative to sober Jack up before Charles can complete his plan to have him sectioned. Dr Herder tries ever more extreme methods before bringing in a more violently insane man, McKyle (the always excellent Nigel Green), who also believes himself to be the son of God, The Electric Messiah! He launches into Jack who sees electric shocks seemingly flow from McKyle’s hands… in exhaustion he calls his own name. Is this the beginning of a cure?

Nigel Green

Grace gives birth to a son and Charles calls in an old favour from the Master of Lunacy (Graham Crowden) who will surely find any lingering slivers of psychosis. But Jack is on the road to recovery and remembering that the psychiatrist had been a sporting hero at their old school Eton. A rousing chorus of the Eton Boating Song ensures the men bond and Jack is declared sane.

But now the film takes a darker tone as Jack suppresses his true thoughts, spending long hours in the attic reading comics about Jack the Ripper and his slaughter... He stops being JC and gradually turns in to “Jack” his sublimation of loving thoughts engendering a murderous response…

But new Jack is welcomed by the local hunt and cheered for his talk about the reintroduction of proper punishment in a society weakened by excess and indulgence from the class that should lead through fear and the application of strict correction to any un-British-ness.

All a bit heavy-handed of course but the film’s grand set piece as Jack preaches to the converted in the House of Lords makes it all worthwhile. As his hard line is greeted with rapture he has a vision of the chamber filled with decaying corpses: fossils held together by centuries of cobwebs still dressed in ermine and furs…

Dusty verdict: The Ruling Class hits its obvious targets cleanly but also with wit and the almost frightening intensity of Peter O’Toole’s performance. And, without giving anything away, the ending is one that disturbs and lingers – this is not a nostalgic easy-watching experience.

The supporting cast are all excellent from Nigel Green’s electrified insanity to Michael Bryant’s conflicted psychiatrist. Carol Browne is superb as the repressed but determined Lady Claire destined to always be let down by the Gurney family whilst Arthur Lowe is effortlessly impressive as the inebriated anarchist, struggling to drink down the establishment from within.

Carolyn Seymour

Special mention should also be made of the peerless Carolyn Seymour who could well be the Lady of the Camellias but is equally convincing as the street-smart “actress” who finds love even in the midst of insanity.

The question is, does society find Jack’s love more delusional and less acceptable than his hate and that’s not just a political issue but a personal one: we have to decide our own demarcation lines in this one.

The Ruling Class is available on DVD from Amazon and there’s even a deluxe edition from Criterion over in America: interesting to see how the film is rated in the land of the free.