Film for the Soul

Withnail and I is Bruce Robinson's semi-autobiographical tale of living a hand to mouth existence, fueled by drugs and alcohol, as trained actors waiting for the big time, living a life of destitution and squalor in a dilapidated house in Camden, London. Robinson just found the source material too overwhelming to ignore, the whole idea of 'struggling actors in crisis' seemed to him both hilarious and absurd yet richly tragic which resonated with the changing times. Withnail and I takes place in 1969, with the 70's looming, and the air of change and missed opportunities radiate the film, the line 'the greatest decade in the history of mankind is over and we have failed to paint it black', spoken by the seller of narcotics Danny (Ralph Brown), speaks volumes about the failures of this generation and their inability to leave their mark.

'I'm a trained actor reduced to the status of a bum'

It's this air of 'times are a changing' that also fuels our protagonists, the erstwhile forever drunk Withnail, played with gleeful menace by Richard E. Grant; who as a life long tee-total had never been drunk in his life and I (marked in the script as Marwood but the name is never given on screen), his humble and 'perfumed pounce' house mate played by an effeminate looking Paul McGann, and their desire to get out of the city for a while, 'to get away from all this hideousness'. This course of action leads them to the wonderful Uncle Monty, a 'rampant homosexual', obese and barking mad, played with relish by Richard Griffiths, who, as Withnail's uncle, is able to give them keys to his house in the countryside, which leads to a clichéd, but genuinely crafted, clash of cultures as our thespians (in waiting) bump heads with country folk.'

Richard E. Grant's super charged drinking machine is actually based on Robinson's real life friend, Vivien MacKerrell, a talented, intelligent young actor who succumb to the world of easy vice and virtue. Despite Withnail being a first class coward, waif and in some cases, a total and utter shit, the viewer can't help but love him, those deep eyes shine with affection and loss; especially in the films wonderful ending, just watch that look Withnail gives I' as they say goodbye, knowing it'll be the last time (without actually saying it), it'll break your heart. The 'I' figure is loosely based on Robinson himself, who acts as the narrator with a soft voice-over reading excerpts from his diary, and the story is of their time together, a period of some five years, condensed into a two week plot line; Robinson often wonders how he made it out of this time alive.

'Once again that beastly oaf has ruined my day!'

Financed by George Harrison's influential, but now sadly defunct, production company, Handmade Films, the same company behind such classics as Time Bandits, The Long Good Friday and those hilarious Monty Python films, infamous for its carte-blanche attitude to giving directors full control, Withnail and I was given a relatively healthy budget of 1.1 million pounds, not bad going for a first time director. Originally conceived as a novel, Robinson was paid to adapt the budding tale into a script, which in turn led to Handmade Films nvolvement. Despite reservations that the film looked too dark, lacked humour and received terrible test screenings, Withnail and I has grown in stature over the years, often cited as one of Britain's greatest films of the past 20 years.

'Don't threaten me with a dead fish'

Amongst the vast copious amounts of alcohol, the most quotable lines of dialogue this side of The Big Lebowski and general hilarity, Withnail and I is full of pathos, remorse and longing. The relationship between our two protagonists for example are some of the finest foray's in to friendship ever put to film, the necessity and madness of people struggling with life; both blinking and shimmering into the light of adult responsibilities and leaving their youth behind. Then there's Uncle Monty, eccentric and lecherous he may well appear but beneath the veneer lies a deeply battered man, bruised by homophobia and nursing a massive broken heart. His attempts to bed the positively frightened 'I' are both hilarious and utterly tragic, his face when told (lied to) that I and Withnail are lovers is just down right sad.

Pretty deep stuff for what is essentially a story, a light hearted romp, about two actors, drunk and jobless, taking a break in the countryside, or as Withnail hysterically puts it, 'we've gone on holiday by mistake'. Thankfully, Robinson handles the deft change in tone and atmosphere with verve, carefully judging the pace and timing of each joke and moment of tragi-comedy. It's this tone and visual style that gives Withnail and I flair and grace, its fixed point of identity feels authentic yet exaggerated, real yet otherworldly. The use of music, a wonderful scene of a Camden being slowly demolished to the Hendrix's mighty 'All Along the Watchtower' for example, adds to the overall feel of a surreal, changing Britain.

I feel like a pig shat in my head

There's also a distinct Edwardian fare in the characteristics of Englishness, exposed in the caricatures of rural English life; the pissed ex-army colonel, now Landlord of a run down pub, the quaint old ladies littering tea-shops and the passive-aggressive poacher, who himself believes Withnail to be an affront to all that’s good and proper about Britain, that are wonderfully imagined, exaggerated, but like all good satire, are fixed in the real world. Just as Danny, the resident drug-dealer with the monotone voice and frazzled mind (armed with camberwell carrot), is wildly histrionic and fevered, the portrayal is something akin to a specific time and space, a recognisable, and all too understandable, entity that you know existed in Robinson's life.

Withnail and I falls into that bracket, of a small percentage of films, that you either love or hate , either your at one from the very start, laughing like a person possessed, or you'll stare in wonder, disbelief and astonishment that anyone could ever find this funny. For me, this is a quintessential British film, one so fixed in the cultural landscape that it's impossible to vision this film being made anywhere else. Like a good bottle of wine, Withnail and I matures as it ages, still as funny as when it first hit the screen and finally getting the kudos it deserves, not only as a great comedy but as a great film, it's fast outgrowing it's cult status label and weaving itself into the fabric of British cinema.