Thursday, May 9, 2024

1983 - The Dresser

I was 13 when I first visited Universal Studios, staring in fascination and excitement at all the sights on the studio backlot tour. I listened with eagerness as the tour guide announced which shows and movies were shot in each soundstage and outdoor set, particularly thrilled by Courthouse Square from Back to the Future. So, if you'd told 13-year-old me that one day I'd shoot a TV show on that very backlot, he probably would have fainted, but tomorrow, I'm pleased to announce, that is exactly what I'll be doing. (Contrary to my previous post, I am actually still in LA, having extended my trip by one week due to the aforementioned acting job.) I'll only be on set for one day, but to be working in the same location as so many iconic films and TV shows of the past will certainly be a career highlight.

Time now to discuss another contender in the 1983 Best Picture race...


The Dresser
Director:
Peter Yates
Screenplay:
Ronald Harwood
(based on his play)
Starring:
Albert Finney, Tom Courtenay, Edward Fox, Zena Walker, Eileen Atkins, Michael Gough, Cathryn Harrison
Academy Awards:
5 nominations
0 wins

In the middle of World War II, a commanding Shakespearean actor (Finney), only ever referred to as Sir (though, presumably he has a real name), commands a repertory of players touring regional Britain. Always by his side is his long-suffering dresser Norman (Courtenay), who, while tolerating Sir's often cruel behaviour, is the only one Sir can truly depend on.

After a public outburst that shines a light on Sir's declining mental state and sees him admitted to a local hospital, the cast and crew assume that night's performance of King Lear will be cancelled, but when Sir discharges himself and shows up at the theatre, Norman convinces everyone that the show must go on.

It seems like I've been mentioning this a lot about the current batch of nominees, but The Dresser is another one that is not afraid to take its time. Being based on a stage play, it's not unexpected that there's a lot of dialogue, though for all the arguments and minor conflicts that occupy the first half of the film, it still feels like not much is happening. The main source of tension, namely whether or not Sir will be fit to actually perform, seems to ebb and flow several times without ever really escalating. We find ourselves a good hour into the story before the show finally does go on, and from here, the excitement picks up with some higher stakes, including the ominous presence of an air raid directly outside the building.

As an actor who has performed in many theatrical productions in my time, I was somewhat puzzled by the lack of realism in certain scenes, particularly considering many on the creative team behind this picture were theatre veterans. If I ever talked as loudly as Norman does backstage, the stage manager would have had my head off. But that's nothing in comparison to a later scene in which Sir exits the stage in a fit of rage, yelling at the top of his lungs, and nobody even flinches. Even the actors still on stage simply continue the play as the audience seems to have not heard a word of Sir's tirade. Quite the suspension of disbelief. On that note, the crux of the film's main relationship is itself difficult to digest. Sure, I know it's sort of the point, but it's hard to believe that Norman - and so many of the other characters, for that matter -  has such a deep love and reverence for such an ungrateful cantankerous prick.

The Shakespearean acting from all the cast is delightfully over the top as one imagines it must have been in the UK in the 1940s. However, that overwrought extravagance seeps its way into the offstage scenes, as well. Tom Courtenay is blatantly camp, and Albert Finney at times seems excessively bombastic. Then again, taking into account the larger-than-life character he is portraying, I can concede the blustery performance is justified. The two leads imbue Norman's and Sir's oscillating relationship with a tender chemistry, and both received Best Actor nominations, to boot.