Ah, progress. Never mind that tosh. "I'm All Right Jack" is a hilarious send up of the 20th century very much on point today, an anything-goes capitalist-meets-socialist system where workers and owners are equally victimized.
Peter Sellers won the British Academy Award for Best British Actor for his performance as union leader Fred Kite, beating out a field that year which included Laurence Olivier, Laurence Harvey, Richard Burton, and Peter Finch. Ian Carmichael is the actual lead actor in "I'm All Right Jack", and Kite doesn't even show up until after the first 20 minutes, but Sellers makes Kite a compelling and comedic character worth remembering as a symbol of organized labor run amuk.
A kind of sequel to "Private's Progress", also featuring Carmichael in the role of Stanley Windrush, "I'm All Right Jack" is a swinging social satire. Two factory owners (played by Dennis Price and Richard Attenborough) conspire to create a labor strike at a munitions factory to get a higher price. To do that, they need someone to create a bit of friction. Enter Windrush, a total innocent upper-class twit who only cares about earning his pay, no matter how much that offends Kite and other labor leaders.
"We're living in the welfare state," says the middle manager Hitchcock (Terry-Thomas). "I call it the farewell state."
"I'm All Right Jack" starts out very cheeky indeed, with a surprising eyeful of female nudity circa 1959 and cracks at religion and the military. Later, a stuttering character sees an array of photographers and asks: "Why don't you tell them to f-f-f-photograph something worthwhile."
The only major problem with "I'm All Right Jack" is the slowness of the film right up until Windrush arrives at Missiles Ltd., after which the comedy becomes a kind of classless class comedy, where shrapnel flies thick and fast and no one is immune. Sellers' performance is brilliant, giving you a character who's likable even as he plays the antagonist. You can scorn his love of Stalinist Russia, which he boils down to cornfields and ballet, but you empathize with his fairness (not wanting to fire Windrush is his undoubted downfall) and his sensitivity for the feelings of Mrs. Kite (Irene Handl) and their daughter (Liz Fraser). He's just a bit extreme.
"We cannot and do not accept the principle that incompetence justifies dismissal," Kite argues. "That is victimization."
The real bad guys are the bosses guying the system, though John Boulting, who directed and co-wrote this with Alan Hackney and Frank Harvey, wants you to see the union abuses that make such a scam not only possible but desirable to the upper classes.
Sellers also appears at the film's outset as "Sir John", a men's-club inhabitant who witnesses the end of World War II as an unpleasant upending of the old social order, before disappearing in the postwar wake. "A solid block in what seemed the edifice of an ordered and stable society," is his postscript.
Contrast him with the very hip, 60s-sounding Al Saxon theme song that sticks its post-war, pre-Beatles attitude in your face as smartly as flipping the bird to Churchill (something else we get to see in the first few minutes), and you find yourself watching what had to be for 1959 a very mod film. It still stands up today as one of the best labor-management comedies, even if the British class system it addresses is no more.
Peter Sellers won the British Academy Award for Best British Actor for his performance as union leader Fred Kite, beating out a field that year which included Laurence Olivier, Laurence Harvey, Richard Burton, and Peter Finch. Ian Carmichael is the actual lead actor in "I'm All Right Jack", and Kite doesn't even show up until after the first 20 minutes, but Sellers makes Kite a compelling and comedic character worth remembering as a symbol of organized labor run amuk.
A kind of sequel to "Private's Progress", also featuring Carmichael in the role of Stanley Windrush, "I'm All Right Jack" is a swinging social satire. Two factory owners (played by Dennis Price and Richard Attenborough) conspire to create a labor strike at a munitions factory to get a higher price. To do that, they need someone to create a bit of friction. Enter Windrush, a total innocent upper-class twit who only cares about earning his pay, no matter how much that offends Kite and other labor leaders.
"We're living in the welfare state," says the middle manager Hitchcock (Terry-Thomas). "I call it the farewell state."
"I'm All Right Jack" starts out very cheeky indeed, with a surprising eyeful of female nudity circa 1959 and cracks at religion and the military. Later, a stuttering character sees an array of photographers and asks: "Why don't you tell them to f-f-f-photograph something worthwhile."
The only major problem with "I'm All Right Jack" is the slowness of the film right up until Windrush arrives at Missiles Ltd., after which the comedy becomes a kind of classless class comedy, where shrapnel flies thick and fast and no one is immune. Sellers' performance is brilliant, giving you a character who's likable even as he plays the antagonist. You can scorn his love of Stalinist Russia, which he boils down to cornfields and ballet, but you empathize with his fairness (not wanting to fire Windrush is his undoubted downfall) and his sensitivity for the feelings of Mrs. Kite (Irene Handl) and their daughter (Liz Fraser). He's just a bit extreme.
"We cannot and do not accept the principle that incompetence justifies dismissal," Kite argues. "That is victimization."
The real bad guys are the bosses guying the system, though John Boulting, who directed and co-wrote this with Alan Hackney and Frank Harvey, wants you to see the union abuses that make such a scam not only possible but desirable to the upper classes.
Sellers also appears at the film's outset as "Sir John", a men's-club inhabitant who witnesses the end of World War II as an unpleasant upending of the old social order, before disappearing in the postwar wake. "A solid block in what seemed the edifice of an ordered and stable society," is his postscript.
Contrast him with the very hip, 60s-sounding Al Saxon theme song that sticks its post-war, pre-Beatles attitude in your face as smartly as flipping the bird to Churchill (something else we get to see in the first few minutes), and you find yourself watching what had to be for 1959 a very mod film. It still stands up today as one of the best labor-management comedies, even if the British class system it addresses is no more.