No Love for Johnnie is an interesting film, not often screened in the UK. I managed to watch it on Talking Pictures TV – otherwise it only exists as a 2011 DVD on an obscure label (Strawberry Media). Many years ago I had a hardback copy of the original novel but I don’t think I’d seen the film before now. The early 1960s is an odd period in British culture, caught between the Lady Chatterley trial and ‘the Beatles first LP’ (as Philip Larkin put it in his poem ‘Annus Mirabilis’) in 1963. It was supposedly a ‘dead’ period in pop music and in cinema everything was deemed to be happening in Northern towns and captured in the ‘realism’ of the British New Wave. So here is the first conundrum. No Love for Johnnie begins in the fictitious town of Earnley (modelled on Bradford, like the town in Room at the Top) where Johnnie Byrne has just been re-elected as the local Labour MP in a General Election campaign which Labour have won. (In reality, Labour lost the 1959 General Election but went on to win in 1964 and 1966.)
On his way back down to London, Johnnie gives an indication that he has become cynical about his supporters as he boards the train. Once in London, he has to answer a TV reporter’s questions about whether he is expecting a Cabinet post. Back in his flat, Johnnie’s love life is unravelling. His wife signals she is leaving, his neighbour is inviting his attention but he finds himself attracted instead to a 20 year-old model (Johnnie is 42). The film is presented in black & white ‘Scope (like the New Wave classic, Billy Liar (1963)) and as some reviews have pointed out Johnnie’s three women match the two of Joe Lampton in Room at the Top (1959). So, why isn’t No Love for Johnnie a New Wave film? The original novel was written by a Labour MP, Wilfred Fienburgh, who was killed in a car crash aged just 38. He held Islington North – now the seat of Labour leader Jeremy Corbyn. Fienburgh had been brought up in Bradford, so in one sense he was a Northern novelist like the others whose novels became New Wave films – but he wasn’t a ‘literary novelist’. His was a more ‘workman-like’ novel – though Fienburgh was seen as a very intelligent working-class lad who had an excellent war record and the book was seen as perceptive about Labour politics.
The problems with the film from a New Wave perspective were two-fold. First the central character is too old at 42, he doesn’t fit the ‘angry young man’ or aspirant working-class/lower middle-class type in the other novels. At 42 he has the war-time experience behind him, whereas the New Wave (anti-)heroes were only children during the war – the exception is Room at the Top where the dating of the narrative is fudged to allow Joe Lampton to have been a POW. Johnnie is played by Peter Finch, the ‘wild’ Australian (though born in London) who was a leading actor/star of British cinema at the time and not a new working-class actor like Albert Finney or Tom Courtenay. Secondly the film was directed by Ralph Thomas for producer Betty Box. Thomas and Box had been a successful working partnership since 1950 and The Clouded Yellow, a wonderful thriller filmed on location across the North of England. But they were best known as the team behind the ‘Doctor’ series of Rank comedies in the 1950s. This condemned them in the eyes of some critics. I think it’s time they were given more attention (which has in fact gone to Betty Box as a successful female filmmaker with a solid track record during the most ‘commercial’ period of British filmmaking).
Box and Thomas were highly efficient at producing successful mainstream films. This production was shot, like most of their 1950s films by Ernest Steward and included many other regulars working at Pinewood, the base for the Box-Thomas productions. The team constructed a replica of the House of Commons chamber and Cabinet room on a Pinewood set, but much of the film was shot on London streets – and seeing the London of 1960 is one of the bonuses. There is a very strong cast of supporting character actors with the terrific Billie Whitelaw as the neighbour re-buffed by Johnnie and Mary Peach as the 20 year-old model. The House of Commons features Donald Pleasance and Geoffrey Keen and a host of other well-known faces. I was also amused to see Oliver Reed, uncredited as a drunk man at a party (the original Mr. Buckethead?).
Betty Box claimed to be uninterested in the politics as such and was aiming for an ‘entertaining film’. She was a young communist in her youth, but primarily for ‘social reasons’ – her older brother Sydney, head of Gainsborough Studios 1945-1950 was a committed Labour supporter. J. Arthur Rank who financed the film was a Conservative, but Betty Box was allowed to make her ‘personal projects’ as long as she also continued to produce the highly profitable comedies for which she is best known (e.g. the ‘Doctor’ series).
It is worth noting that dramatic narratives about Left-Labour MPs are more interesting in terms of personal morality. Tories, seen as less principled by many, have less to lose in some ways. No Love for Johnnie was followed in the 1970s by the TV serial Bill Brand (1976) an 11 x 1 hour episode narrative written by Trevor Griffiths and starring Jack Shepherd as a new left-wing MP. In 1988, A Very British Coup, based on a novel by Chris Mullin MP and scripted by Mullin and the great TV playwright Alan Plater was a three-part TV mini-series detailing the unlikely but ‘much wished for’ general election victory for a Labour Party led not by right-wing Blairites but by a working-class socialist played by Ray McAnally. The military and leading right-wingers plot against him.
As I’ve indicated, Wilfred Fienburgh was seen as a bright and perceptive politician, so the narrative of No Love for Johnnie has a strong base. The film script was written by Nicholas Phipps, a long-time collaborator with Box and Thomas as both actor and writer. He was joined, in a rather unlikely pairing, with the Canadian novelist Mordecai Richler. Richler had lived in the UK since 1954 and published several novels. (There were several Canadians in British film and TV.) The Apprenticeship of Duddy Kravitz was published in 1959 and became a major film in 1974 with a young Richard Dreyfus in the lead. Richler had already written two films by 1960 and would go on to script Life at the Top (1965), the follow-up to the 1959 film. The representation of politics in No Love for Johnnie is both cynical and believable. There is a particularly good passage in which Johnnie has to cope with a ‘dressing-down’ by his constituency party and a crisis in his love life during a trip back to Earnley.
Unusually for a Betty Box production, the film did not become a box office hit, though many critics responded favourably and Peter Finch won a Berlinale prize and a BAFTA. I suspect that Talking Pictures TV will provide us with some more offerings that challenge the dubious canonisations of ‘British New Wave’ films and perhaps give us a better sense of the range of Betty Box productions. She stands as perhaps the most successful British film producer with a near 30 year career starting in 1946.
In this clip, the PM wants to see Jonnie who has been selected by Labour rebels to ask a an embarrassing question. The issue is one which is remarkably contemporary with Saudi Arabia moving into Yemen to attack rebels:
The Entertainer is an important British film for many reasons. A few months ago I got angry when commentators discussing a 2016 revival of John Osborne’s play (Kenneth Branagh’s production at the Garrick in London) only referred to the film as ‘Olivier’s film’. Laurence Olivier plays the lead character of the film but he and Osborne are by no means the only ‘authors’ of the film. It is equally important to consider the direction by Tony Richardson and the production by Woodfall Films – just at the ‘tipping point’ of the British New Wave in 1960. It’s a film and the location photography by Oswald Morris and Denys Coop (the camera operator who later became a DoP on several New Wave films) is crucial.
I first saw the film many years ago and I was grateful to see it again courtesy of Talking Pictures TV, the digital channel that suddenly appeared, as if by magic, on my Freeview offer. Talking Pictures TV is on Freeview Channel 81 and specialises in archive British and American cinema and TV. In August 2016 Screen Daily reported that the station had acquired broadcast rights to a range of classic British films in “two major library deals with ITV Studios Global Entertainment and the Samuel Goldwyn and Woodfall libraries, distributed by Miramax”. Around 100 titles are covered and some of them are showing currently in the channel’s schedules (see the website).
The Entertainer was first performed on stage in 1957 and the story is set in 1956. In the opening sequence we meet Jean Rice (Joan Plowright) looking up at the marquee of the Alhambra Theatre in Morecambe which announces the summer show starring Jean’s father, the fading variety star Archie Rice (Olivier). A flashback shows us that Jean has come up from London where she is an art teacher on a youth project. She’s seen her brother Mick (Albert Finney) off at the station on his way to fight in the Suez Canal conflict. She was accompanied by her boyfriend Graham (Daniel Massey) who told her that he had been offered a job in Africa. Did she want to join him? When Jean arrives in Morecambe she meets her grandfather, Billy Rice (Roger Livesey) and then goes ‘backstage’ to meet her father and her other brother, stage manager Frank (Alan Bates). Eventually, we follow the trio home to the rented rooms where Phoebe, (Brenda de Banzie) and Billy are waiting. The ‘driver’ of the plot is Archie’s attempt to stage another, more glamorous, show. He has no money so he latches onto a young woman (Shirley Anne Field) with wealthy parents in the hope that they will finance him to create an opportunity for their daughter.
The Entertainer is not really a film that is bothered about narrative as such – I don’t think we really believe that Archie will be successful in setting up a new show. It makes more sense to follow the narrative as a metaphor for decline. Archie is a second-rate entertainer in the dying days of live ‘variety theatre’. Already this successor to the music hall is in the process of falling into the clutches of television (and TV is a despised medium by most of the writers and directors of the New Wave). It is apt then that the setting is Morecambe – a seaside resort in its last days of mass holiday appeal. Morecambe’s main attractions were developed from the late 19th century up to the 1930s, including its marvellous art deco hotel built by the Midland Railway company. Morecambe traditionally relied on the railway to bring the crowds from industrial West Yorkshire, especially from Bradford and Leeds, but by the late 1950s the numbers were starting to fall. Morecambe wasn’t big enough to attract the A List stars so, rather like the British Empire in 1956, it was waiting for the axe to fall (it would come a few years later after the railways were savaged by Dr Beeching in the mid 1960s). The film never openly discusses the location as Morecambe, so perhaps these points are lost on the audience. Tony Richardson came originally from Bradford which may be why he chose the location. Wikipedia suggests that Osborne wrote Look Back in Anger in Morecambe while himself performing in repertory theatre.
It may be heretical, but I have to admit that I don’t enjoy watching Laurence Olivier on screen (and he received an Oscar nomination for this performance as Archie). I’ve never seen him on the stage, but I’m not sure his casting always works in films – except when he plays a supporting character in genre films. In The Entertainer he has to play a man who is difficult to like and he certainly puts the character across, but his stage act is so loathsome and lacking in talent (i.e the singing voice he uses and the terrible delivery of awful jokes) that it doesn’t really make sense that he would headline a show. The crucial scenes are in the theatre after or between shows when Archie is trying to express himself to Jean (who is arguably the narrator of the story – she is the one who leads us into scenes). In these scenes, Olivier seems to do far too much and it’s as if he is still performing in the stage version of The Entertainer, also directed by Tony Richardson. Reading a synopsis of the play, it looks as if these scenes were originally in the family home but when the film ‘opened’ out the story, Richardson moved them into the empty theatre. I can see an argument that Olivier offers us an Archie who is always ‘performing’ and when he’s literally ‘on the stage’ he is unable to stop. His performance contrasts with Roger Livesey, an actor admittedly close to my heart because of his three roles for Powell and Pressburger in Colonel Blimp (1943), I Know Where I’m Going (1945) and A Matter of Life and Death (1946). It’s an insult really that Livesey, one year older than Olivier, is cast as Olivier’s father. Billy is a mainly sympathetic character as a genuine former star of music hall. Livesey plays him as an Edwardian gentleman. It’s perhaps a little too close to the older Colonel Blimp from P&P’s film (in which Livesey must age forty years).
I suspect my problem is with John Osborne’s overall approach to the original play. I’ve seen a suggestion that after Look Back in Anger, the iconic ‘angry young man’ narrative for the theatre, Olivier asked Osborne to write an ‘angry middle-aged man’ piece for him to star in and that’s how The Entertainer emerged. In his satire Osborne offers three generations of Rice men – Billy, Archie and Frank/Mick. Osborne seems a little nostalgic in relation to Billy and his bile is reserved for Archie. The young men are not really used at all, which is a weakness, I think. The women have little ‘agency’ and Jean’s problems seem to get forgotten (which adds to the isolation of Archie as a loathsome figure). Osborne might have been thinking of any number of misogynist male comedians with doubtful stage material in the 1940s and 1950s – but most of them were also performers with real talent. I do wonder if the character of Archie Rice might actually have worked better in the service of the satire if he had been a more talented performer – whose style/material was going out of fashion. But perhaps the whole point is that he is a monster without redeeming features?
All the rest of the cast are very good. And what a cast it is. I was amused to note that Miriam Karlin is a bolshie dancer in Archie’s company – a year or so later she would become a TV star in the sitcom The Rag Trade in which she plays a shop steward in a small clothing factory. Morecambe’s most famous thespian, Thora Hird plays the mother of the Shirley Anne Field character. But the real interest for me is in the film as an example of Richardson’s work for Woodfall, the company he founded in 1958 with John Osborne and Harry Saltzman. Between 1959 and 1963 Richardson directed five major films of the British New Wave for Woodfall – Look Back In Anger (1959), The Entertainer (1960), A Taste of Honey (1961), The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner (1962) and Tom Jones (1963). That’s some run. I think now that I’d opt for A Taste of Honey as the key film, though all of them are important and Tom Jones won the most accolades at the time. The Entertainer seems like it’s caught in the transition in filmmaking terms from the interiors of Look Back in Anger to the openness and freshness of A Taste of Honey and the shift from the anger of John Osborne to the vitality of Shelagh Delaney (with the only female-centred film in the sequence).
Other points to mention: the screenplay was co-written by Nigel Kneale who had adapted Look Back in Anger from Osborne’s play but who was best known as a writer of science fiction screenplays, especially the various Quatermass films and TV plays. Since he came from North West England, he may have contributed to the authentic feel of Morecambe as a Lancashire resort. There is an interesting sequence in the film using the ‘Miss Great Britain’ bathing beauty contest which was held in the art deco outdoor swimming pool. Morecambe was the genuine venue for the contest in 1956 and it remained the venue until 1989. The locations used in the film are mainly in Morecambe but the theatre locations may include both the Alhambra and the Winter Gardens. Morecambe had its own Illuminations but the sequence in The Entertainer also features Blackpool’s illuminated trams.
This film, written by David Storey and directed by Lindsay Anderson, is one of the best films from (what is sometimes called) The British New Wave.
Partly filmed in West Yorkshire the film has a splendid performance by Richard Harris as Rugby League star Frank Machin. And opposite him is Rachel Roberts, equally fine as widow Margaret Hammond. The film is about about Machin’s career in a Yorkshire League club but also his doomed relationship with Margaret. The fine screenplay and acting is ably supported by the black and white cinematography of Denys Coop, the music of Robert Gerhard and (especially good) the editing by Peter Taylor.
Lindsay Anderson was a key member of the new-style cinema in the 1960s. He was also an influential writer and mentor. His film output never quite matched his talents, but with this film and the better-known If… (1968) he left two memorable films.
Karel Reisz, who produced the film, commented that it was
“the most completely achieved of the “new wave” films, because the most passionately felt and ambitious.” (In Never Apologise The Collected Writings of Lindsay Anderson, edited by Paul Ryan, Plexus 2004).
The ambition is apparent in the radical style of the film, most noticeable in the editing: the timeframe and structure of the narration approach the avant-garde. This is a film that shows most clearly the influence of the nouvelle vague on British film at this time.
There is a fine supporting cast, including Alan Badel, William Hartnell, Colin Blakely and Vanda Godsell. Whilst the film’s techniques are impressive, the drama is absorbing and moving. So the good news is that Hebden Bridge Picture House are screening it as part of their ‘reel films’ in 35mm on Saturday June 4th. The last time I saw the print it looked good (in 1.66:1), certainly better than the recent DCP transfer which did not serve the cinematography well, and which made some back projection fairly obvious.
This was one of my memorable screenings from the 1960s. However, I see on revisiting that it received an X Certificate at the time: a sign of the times but even then anachronistic. It is one of the best directorial outings by Tony Richardson, who also worked with Shelagh Delaney to adapt her original play to the screen. The film offers that authentic sense of time and place which was so notable feature of many films in the period. Walter Lassally, filming on location in Manchester, Salford and Blackpool, deserves much of the credit for this, as does the sound recording and editing of Charles Poulton, Don Challis and Roy Hyde. Plus a fine score by John Addison. What also stands out is the cast. Newcomer Rita Tushingham is marvellously convincing as the young Jo. And Dora Bryan, Murray Melvin and [briefly] Paul Danquah play finely alongside her. The film softens the original play slightly but has the same sense of freshness and adventure. Both were daring for the time, though it is difficult to remember clearly how restrictive were social codes around sexuality, sexual orientation and ethnicity/colour. I have revisited the film several times and it is one of the 1960s ‘kitchen sink’ dramas’ that stands up well. So it is a welcome treat that Picturehouse at the National Media Museum are re-screening the film on September 23rd and in the film’s original and proper format – 35mm.
Note, Roy advises that the screening is part of a “Research Project on ‘Cinemagoing in the 1960s’ and that the film will be introduced by Dr Melvyn Stokes.”
Part of the freshness of the British New Wave was the films’ use of relatively unknown actors such as Albert Finney (above) and Saturday Night and Sunday Morning was one of the first New Wave films to focus on working class life. The film that heralded the ‘wave’, Room at the Top, had a protagonist, Joe Lampton, who is desperate to join the middle classes whereas Saturday Night’s Arthur Seaton (Finney) relishes his working status with his ‘chippy’ attitude as his opening voice over states, above an image of him working in a factory:
Don’t let the bastards grind you down. That’s one thing I’ve learned . . . I’d like to see anybody try to grind me down. That’d be the day. What I want is a good time. All the rest is propaganda.
Finney’s brilliant performance shows both the charisma of the rebel the immaturity of Seaton, particularly when his face breaks out in a childish grin when he fires pellets at a local gossip. Despite the fact that, in common with other films of the time, it represents popular culture negatively, Seaton criticises his dad for watching television all the time (see above), its treatment of race, although incidental, is progressive. During Seaton’s introductory monologue he says ‘I’m like him’, and at that moment the camera frames one of the few Afro-Caribbean workers. Seaton identifies himself via his class and rebellious attitude and not race.
At the end of the film it appears that Seaton has been recouped for a conventional lifestyle, as he decides to wed Doreen (Shirley Anne Field) after, it is implied, they’ve had sex. However, this doesn’t stop him throwing stones at a site where the ‘nice’ semi-detached homes he’s destined for are being built.
The cast is brilliant giving a debut to some who would become stalwarts of British cinema: Colin Blakely, Bryan Pringle and Norman Rossington. Hylda Baker is a standout as Seaton’s Aunt Ada and Rachel Roberts, as the married woman with whom Seaton is having sex, is heartbreaking when faced with an abortion.
I’m planning to teach ‘sixties UK cinema this year so took the opportunity of watching Georgy Girl for ‘free’, via a PS3, as part of my Lovefilm subscription. I ended up shoving another 19 items onto my ‘watchlist’ including a number of tasty ‘world cinema’ offerings. As in music, we live in a time that offers a cornucopia of films and finding time to watch them all, and listen to the music, almost makes me yearn for the days of ‘drought’. In the 1970s there were three terrestrial television channels in the UK which meant there were three channels available. The system of ‘barring’ meant it was five years before films could be shown on television. There was a decent library of 16mm films for hire but that required specialist equipment.
So, no I’m not yearning for the ’70s. During that decade videocassette started the revolution in home entertainment that is now moving online; there’s little point in buying DVDs unless you’re going to study the film. This dip into the past was partly instigated by watching Georgy Girl as I remember The Seekers’ theme tune being a hit at the time (I was four!). According to Wikipedia, the film was too.
It was funded by Columbia Pictures who, along with other Hollywood studios, assumed that because London was ‘swinging’ it was also ‘where it’s at’ and money could be made appealing to young people. Robert Murphy (in Sixties British Cinema) names Georgy Girl as one of the few genuinely ‘swinging’ films, and the last in black and white, but it also starred James Mason which, presumably, appealed to an older audience who might have looked askance at the antics of the young people.
Lynn Redgrave plays the titular character, who’s supposedly over-weight and so not attractive, with great verve and she does embody a character who is capable of breaking stultifying tradition. She’s contrasted with her friend, the definitely good-time girl Meredith (Charlotte Rampling), who the film does, I think, condemn for her selfishness. But Murphy’s also correct when he states: ‘her defiance of conventions of marriage and motherhood gives the film a shocking frisson’ (p. 143).
The film remains engaging, 47 years later, though the (obligatory?) ‘swinging’ scene of a young person running through the streets shouting (and stripping in this film’s case) in defiance of convention does look dated. Alan Bates, looking startlingly like Mel Gibson in his prime, performs the role of Jos with great conviction even when he is stripping off when running through the underground walkways.
Today’s release of the annual Social Trends survey, in the UK, shows how much more tolerant we are, as a nation, of difference. That, I think, is certainly a positive legacy of the 1960s.