The Winslow Boy [DVD] [1999]

It took me several years to get around to purchasing "The Winslow Boy". Although I was certain that I would like it--after all, Nigel Hawthorne was in it--I had no idea that I was in for an hour-and-a-half of such absorbing drama. In one of his last roles, Hawthorne brings a poignant combination of strength and tenderness to the role of the patriarch, whose determination to "let right be done" almost breaks apart the family that he is trying to preserve. His scenes with Gemma Jones--torn apart by her conflicting roles as loyal wife and loving mother--are especially moving. Because of the ensemble acting of the entire cast, the family dynamic is entirely believable.

The real surprise for me, however, was Jeremy Northam in the role of Sir Robert Morton, KC, MP. Although Northam's performances in films such as "Gosford Park" and "Enigma" have been enjoyable, his portrayal of the aristocratic barrister quietly sizzled with sensual undertones that would do a handsome brooding Jane Austen hero proud. I found myself waiting for him to come onstage, as it were; and wishing that I could hear his moving summation to the jury; and that I might be allowed to follow Sir Robert's romantic pursuit of Miss Winslow. The last lines of the film are simply tantalizing.

Much of this "wanting more of Morton" derives not only from Northam's portrayal, but also from playwright Terrance Rattigan's technique of having the action take place offstage. The technique, which dates back to Greek tragedy, contributes to the dramatic tension of "The Winslow Boy." The very device of having characters relate the events taking place elsewhere, however, will likely render the drama inaccessible to some viewers, who demand fast-paced visual action. But for those who savor a riveting drama of quality, "The Winslow Boy" will not disappoint.

The Winslow Boy is a first-class David Mamet film of indirection, understatement and cool emotion. A young cadet at the Royal Naval Academy has been expelled for stealing a five-shilling postal order from another cadet. He swears to his father that he didn't do it and his father believes him. At that point Arthur Winslow (Nigel Hawthorne) becomes determined to prove his son innocent. He is rebuffed by the Admiralty because, as part of the Queen's government, the Admiralty can do no wrong and cannot be sued. He engages a famous solicitor, Sir Robert Morton (Jeremy Northam), who agrees to take the brief. Morton eventually succeeds in bringing the case before the House of Commons on a petition of right, where even the lowest of the Queen's subjects can have the opportunity "to have right be done." All this takes years. The Winslow family suffers ridicule and financial distress. Arthur Winslow's daughter, Catherine (Rebecca Pidgeon), a prickly and intelligent suffragette, sees her opportunity for an advantageous marriage evaporate. His son is forced to leave Oxford and take a banking job. His wife sees so much of the security of the home vanish in the costs of the case. The case, based on a true happening, finally is won.

Mamet's screenplay is based on the Forties play by Terrence Rattigan. It's a solid piece of work that keeps the story moving and concentrates on the characters. The interplay among the characters is excellent, especially between Catherine Winslow and Sir Robert Morton. The dialogue may be on the surface exquisitely courteous, but underneath runs unexpected currents that are a lot of fun to witness. Northam's Morton is smart, secure, successful and not at all sympathetic to suffragettes. But it gradually becomes clear he rather likes intelligent women and that the end of the case may not be the last Catherine Winslow sees of him:

Sir Robert Morton: You still pursue your feminist activities?
Catherine Winslow: Oh yes.
Sir Robert: Pity. It's a lost cause.
Catherine: Oh, do you really think so, Sir Robert? How little you know about women. Good-bye. I doubt that we shall meet again.
Sir Robert: Do you really think so, Miss Winslow? How little you know about men.

It has always seemed strange to me that those who like Mamet almost never mention this movie, yet it appears to me that this is one of his most solidly directed and written films. It may be that, like Scorsese's Age of Innocence, it just doesn't fit into preconceived notions of what the director's films should be like. At any rate, this is a clever and satisfying movie, and very well acted. Perhaps one day we'll see a DVD of the version with Robert Donat and Margaret Leighton. It's first rate, too.

Remakes always have to go some to shape up to the standard of the original. It seems to be one of the laws of cinema, though we'll call it a rubber rather than an iron law, since there are quite a few exceptions: The Beat That My Heart Skipped (2005) comes to mind immediately, and so does Alexander Korda's 1940 version of The Thief of Bagdad.

This one has a good try but ultimately falls a bit short, mostly, I think, because the attempt to widen the play experience out into a cinematic one has not really worked. The film remains stubbornly interior-bound (we won't say studio-bound as no studio filming took place) as really it must do unless it strays so far away from the original as to become a different beast entirely. David Mamet, despite Glengarry Glen Ross and other movies, is mainly a man of Broadway.

It's interesting to compare this version with the 1948 Anthony Asquith original version, released in May 2009