'Withnail & I' belongs to the category of those films in which I can appreciate many details, artistic and technical aspects, but whose watching is an unpleasant experience for me. It's been two days since I saw the movie, that is, enough time for the first impressions to settle down, and in my memory the movie remains the same. If I had to choose two phrases to characterize it, they are 'professionally crafted' and 'disgusting'. I see on IMDB that the film has a loyal following, almost a cult status, amplified by the fact that its director, Bruce Robinson, has made so far only four films, even though he crossed the 70-year-old age threshold. I've seen another one of them, the most recent, which had a somewhat similar theme (inspired by the true story of a life ruined by substance abuse), there Johnny Depp saved the movie. Here's about the same thing. A film I may have good reasons to see, but then I do not enjoy what I saw.
'Withnail & I' was made in 1987, but the story takes place in 1969, the year London was one of the two capitals of the pop culture revolution. The heroes are two actors who fail to get any decent roles and spend their time drinking themselves to death, in between rare phone calls or attempts to call their agents, living into a rented apartment which they gradually transform in a kind of a garbage can. When running out of cash to continue the liquids supply, they accept the opportunity to spend a weekend in the country, at the cottage of an uncle of one of them. From here, the film turns into a sort of comedy of situations around the culture clash between the two young people who recite theater while being in varying degrees of drunkenness and the locals who are not too happy with the guests, pigmented by a secondary intrigue which involves the uncle with homosexual tendencies not shared by the two young people.
It may be me, or rather my lack of resonance to certain kind of English humor, the one that only cares about characters and situations, considering that, ultimately, any story or lack of cinematic story can be labeled and placed on the shelf of absurd. As I mentioned, there are many details and memorable scenes in the movie: the ones in the car (a junk, but a Jaguar!), the confrontation with the chicken at the cottage, the final scene. Acting is first class. Richard E. Grant seems to predict Benedict Cumberbatch 2-3 decades in advance and his role in the film is a youthful version of the role of 'Can You Ever Forgive Me?'. He enjoys excellent replica from Paul McGann and Richard Griffiths. However, none of the characters creates empathy. French Nouvelle Vague films abound in similar heroes, but one can identify with them. Not here. Good acting and cinematography failed to make me overcome the sordid atmosphere, and to compensate for my lack of interest in the uninteresting story of a couple of lives wasted in drunkenness. I cannot recommend the movie.
'Withnail & I' was made in 1987, but the story takes place in 1969, the year London was one of the two capitals of the pop culture revolution. The heroes are two actors who fail to get any decent roles and spend their time drinking themselves to death, in between rare phone calls or attempts to call their agents, living into a rented apartment which they gradually transform in a kind of a garbage can. When running out of cash to continue the liquids supply, they accept the opportunity to spend a weekend in the country, at the cottage of an uncle of one of them. From here, the film turns into a sort of comedy of situations around the culture clash between the two young people who recite theater while being in varying degrees of drunkenness and the locals who are not too happy with the guests, pigmented by a secondary intrigue which involves the uncle with homosexual tendencies not shared by the two young people.
It may be me, or rather my lack of resonance to certain kind of English humor, the one that only cares about characters and situations, considering that, ultimately, any story or lack of cinematic story can be labeled and placed on the shelf of absurd. As I mentioned, there are many details and memorable scenes in the movie: the ones in the car (a junk, but a Jaguar!), the confrontation with the chicken at the cottage, the final scene. Acting is first class. Richard E. Grant seems to predict Benedict Cumberbatch 2-3 decades in advance and his role in the film is a youthful version of the role of 'Can You Ever Forgive Me?'. He enjoys excellent replica from Paul McGann and Richard Griffiths. However, none of the characters creates empathy. French Nouvelle Vague films abound in similar heroes, but one can identify with them. Not here. Good acting and cinematography failed to make me overcome the sordid atmosphere, and to compensate for my lack of interest in the uninteresting story of a couple of lives wasted in drunkenness. I cannot recommend the movie.