Poor people, all fifty of you a day, checking this page and seeing no updates...
Here's some thoughts I had on Withnail & I recently, originally posted elsewhere.
[... and begin...]
Entropy.
Entropy, entropy, entropy.
England is crumbling into the sea.
More specifically, I think what I really get from the film these days is the terrifying spectre of what we might call Thatcherism for want of a better word. Call it Blairism now if you like. An ideology that basically says there is no place in the kind of England we want for weirdo misfits like Withnail or Monty or Marwood-pre-haircut. They are not useful. They do not contribute to society. The question of whether the idealised arcadia that Monty believes existed back in his punting days, and Danny believes that the 60s were/could've/should've been, ever existed is pretty moot. What's certain is that the world of Thatcher and Blair is bearing down on scum like this lot, and it wants them to get a job and a haircut and GETINTHEBACKOFTHEVAN.
And you can basically either sulk and fret, or get drunk and have a few laughs until it all becomes too much and you crack and end up reciting Shakespeare to the lions.
That's the gloomy way of looking at it. The fun way is just to recite all the best lines. Christ, let's do that, it's all far too depressing otherwise.
Re: the question of Withnail's feelings for Marwood - my take on that is that this is a film obsessed with the blurred boundary between homosocial relationships and... something more. I mean, why is Marwood so fucking terrified of Monty, right from the start? Okay, so Marwood is terrified of almost everybody and everthing, but even so... I don't think this is a guy who's very secure in his own sexuality. This works utterly brilliantly to comic effect because the only way he can find to respond to Monty is this bizarre fixed grin and polite deferral which always comes across as flirting... It's painful to watch but painful-funny up until the point where Monty actually leaves. You know, the film has been encouraging us to laugh at this appalling enormous middle-aged gay man in semi-drag saying "I intend to have you even if it must be burglary!", and all of a sudden he's gone, and the film is heading inexorably towards a downbeat ending from that moment on. Monty is incredibly alone at the end of the film (I know his previous liasions with younger men are implied, and maybe he'll have them again, but c'mon, that letter he writes them is so tragic, he's so desperate for real love or even companionship). Y'know, in a way Monty's fate sort of foreshadows Withnail's, only the latter doesn't have any of the material comforts, making him doubly fucked.
Also note that there are virtually no women in this film, nor do Withnail or Marwood ever express any interest in them (Marwood says he's not a homosexual, but he doesn't seem to be much of a heterosexual either - these are people whom sex has somehow passed by). And it's so grimly ironic that W&I pretend to be a couple and Monty envies them this togetherness, and then they 'split up' and you realise the extent to which they *were* a couple, albeit a platonic one...
Which is not to say that Withnail definitely has romantic or sexual feelings for Marwood. But he loves him. They love each other, in fact. That's where the emotional kick comes from.
God, the bit that always gets me is when they're in the park, in the rain, and Marwood asks Withnail not to walk him any further to the station, and Withnail's like "I want to", and just the way Paul McGann says:
"Please don't. I really don't want you to."
And you know it's because he can't take the goodbyes. Gah. And then, oh God, "I shall miss you..."
I'm usually drunk enough to get seriously watery-eyed and lumpy-throated at that point. Pass the hanky. *sob*
Here's some thoughts I had on Withnail & I recently, originally posted elsewhere.
[... and begin...]
Entropy.
Entropy, entropy, entropy.
England is crumbling into the sea.
More specifically, I think what I really get from the film these days is the terrifying spectre of what we might call Thatcherism for want of a better word. Call it Blairism now if you like. An ideology that basically says there is no place in the kind of England we want for weirdo misfits like Withnail or Monty or Marwood-pre-haircut. They are not useful. They do not contribute to society. The question of whether the idealised arcadia that Monty believes existed back in his punting days, and Danny believes that the 60s were/could've/should've been, ever existed is pretty moot. What's certain is that the world of Thatcher and Blair is bearing down on scum like this lot, and it wants them to get a job and a haircut and GETINTHEBACKOFTHEVAN.
And you can basically either sulk and fret, or get drunk and have a few laughs until it all becomes too much and you crack and end up reciting Shakespeare to the lions.
That's the gloomy way of looking at it. The fun way is just to recite all the best lines. Christ, let's do that, it's all far too depressing otherwise.
Re: the question of Withnail's feelings for Marwood - my take on that is that this is a film obsessed with the blurred boundary between homosocial relationships and... something more. I mean, why is Marwood so fucking terrified of Monty, right from the start? Okay, so Marwood is terrified of almost everybody and everthing, but even so... I don't think this is a guy who's very secure in his own sexuality. This works utterly brilliantly to comic effect because the only way he can find to respond to Monty is this bizarre fixed grin and polite deferral which always comes across as flirting... It's painful to watch but painful-funny up until the point where Monty actually leaves. You know, the film has been encouraging us to laugh at this appalling enormous middle-aged gay man in semi-drag saying "I intend to have you even if it must be burglary!", and all of a sudden he's gone, and the film is heading inexorably towards a downbeat ending from that moment on. Monty is incredibly alone at the end of the film (I know his previous liasions with younger men are implied, and maybe he'll have them again, but c'mon, that letter he writes them is so tragic, he's so desperate for real love or even companionship). Y'know, in a way Monty's fate sort of foreshadows Withnail's, only the latter doesn't have any of the material comforts, making him doubly fucked.
Also note that there are virtually no women in this film, nor do Withnail or Marwood ever express any interest in them (Marwood says he's not a homosexual, but he doesn't seem to be much of a heterosexual either - these are people whom sex has somehow passed by). And it's so grimly ironic that W&I pretend to be a couple and Monty envies them this togetherness, and then they 'split up' and you realise the extent to which they *were* a couple, albeit a platonic one...
Which is not to say that Withnail definitely has romantic or sexual feelings for Marwood. But he loves him. They love each other, in fact. That's where the emotional kick comes from.
God, the bit that always gets me is when they're in the park, in the rain, and Marwood asks Withnail not to walk him any further to the station, and Withnail's like "I want to", and just the way Paul McGann says:
"Please don't. I really don't want you to."
And you know it's because he can't take the goodbyes. Gah. And then, oh God, "I shall miss you..."
I'm usually drunk enough to get seriously watery-eyed and lumpy-throated at that point. Pass the hanky. *sob*
<< Home