The Talking Pictures TV channel has been serving up a feast of obscure British films from years gone by, hence I chanced upon this offering from 1971. Right from the opening moments it was so poor as to be cringe-inducing, yet quickly became a strangely compulsive watch as I persevered with it thinking that it couldn't possibly get any worse, only to be proved wrong at each successive plot turn.
One would think that with such talents as James Hayter and Denis King on board that the film might have something going for it, and even performers such as Luan Peters and Vincent Ball, although not noted as acting heavyweights, have at least demonstrated elsewhere in their careers that they are capable of far better than what is served up here. There are rare cases when just about every element in a film – plot, characterisation, dialogue, direction, photography, acting, music, location all click into place perfectly to produce something of stunning quality that is worthy of the description 'classic'. Unfortunately, this is an equally rare case where every single one of those elements fails, and the contrivance is so embarrassingly bad that you wonder why anybody was prepared to put their name to it.
The plot is a simple one, and clichéd, though not without potential: attractive housewife has grown weary of her husband's lack of attention and is tempted into finding satisfaction elsewhere, only for things to go disastrously wrong. The film is clearly striving to be an erotic drama but fails so spectacularly that you would be forgiven for mistaking it as a comic spoof of the genre. Even from the beginning, when the set-up explores how the main character, Karen Williams, finds herself trapped in a mundane, loveless existence, the dialogue is so boring and the acting so wooden that you can't imagine how there was ever a spark of romance between Karen and her solicitor husband, John. The fact that Karen won't even attempt to discuss her feelings with him doesn't help the viewer sympathise with her plight, nor does the fact that she hardly seems to have much of a relationship with her six-year- old son either. There's no attempt to give the characters any depth, explore their past, their backgrounds, show them in different situations. Even if hubby is working long hours, he must get at least one day off a week so how do they spend it?
Everything seems to revolve around Karen going to do her shopping in the local grocery store, where one of the assistants (unbeknown to her) has been spying on her through her bathroom window at night – not very successfully, as he seems to be incapable of keeping his binoculars in focus. One day the assistant is ogling Karen in the shop with the visiting sales rep Alex, and the latter wagers that he can get Karen into bed within three days.
That he succeeds hardly seems credible as once again this is a one- dimensional character and there's little exploration of why Karen would be drawn to such a sleazy character, although she does laugh at his lame jokes as though he's the world's greatest wit. He drags her off to watch Thunderclap Newman rehearse at a nearby venue, giving the film an unusual dose of historical cultural interest, and then takes her into what looks like a hotel room (but apparently isn't) and talks her into getting down to business whilst traffic noisily rumbles past outside. The fact that they close the curtains somehow fails to prevent a photographer from a neighbouring building capturing the moment for posterity. And so, the drama unfolds...
Absurdity manifests itself in practically every scene, whether it be Karen telling her son to dry his hair even though it isn't even wet, or her timid acquiescence when pressured into situations that ought to invoke stern resistance or at least strong emotion. But there's a complete lack of emotional intensity throughout, save for a couple of scenes, when the story is crying out for it.
There's also a pervading air of cheapness, most obvious in the lack of extras populating scenes. Drinking venues are practically empty, shops are devoid of customers, no other children or parents are to be seen at the school gates (in fact, you can't even see the school...). Even the live strip-show only musters an audience of about four men. The direction is limp and without imagination, and whether it's shapely young females working out in a gymnasium, Luan Peters showing off her fantastic body or the visual splendour of a firework display, the film struggles to stimulate the senses. Even the cars move slowly and undramatically, as though trying to make life easier for the cameraman.
Unforgivably, even despite the lack of resources, the film lacks a proper conclusion, coming to a somewhat abrupt end almost as if the money had run out.
But, bad as it may be, the film does tell a story and is easy to follow, even if credibility is stretched on occasion. It never gets dull. It has Thunderclap Newman in it. It still manages to titillate in spite of its clumsiness. So I have to award it some points for all that, and I'd rather watch this than a very boring film. But I'm still quite stunned that a British film of the 1970s era could be as appalling as this.
3 out of 4 found this helpful.
Was this review helpful? Sign in to vote.
Permalink
