![]() |
Joanne Whalley and John Hurt get unwisely wrapped up in the Profumo affair in Scandal |
Director: Michael Caton-Jones
Cast: John Hurt (Stephen Ward), Joanne Whalley (Christine
Keeler), Bridget Fonda (Mandy Rice-Davies), Ian McKellen (John Profumo), Leslie
Phillips (Lord Astor), Britt Ekland (Mariella Novotny), Jeroen Krabbé (Eugene
Ivanov), Daniel Massey (Mervyn Griffith-Jones), Roland Gift (Johnny Edgecombe),
Jean Alexander (Mrs Keeler), Deborah Grant (Valerie Hobson), Alex Norton
(Inspector), Ronald Fraser (Justice Marshall), Paul Brooke (Sergeant), Keith
Allen (Reporter)
In 1963 the British Government was nearly destroyed by a sex
scandal. John Profumo, Minister for War, was widely suspected of conducting an
affair with Christine Keeler (a former show girl turned society figure) at the
same time as she was sleeping with Russian naval attaché Eugene Ivanov. Profumo
denied it to the House of Commons. A few weeks later he confessed he had lied
and resigned from Parliament. The scandal shook the country to the core, and
led to an exhausted Harold MacMillan’s resignation as PM. As the scandal span
out to reveal sex parties in country homes, the country couldn’t get enough of
the discovery that large numbers of the upper classes enjoyed nothing more than
swinging, orgies and indiscriminate sex laced with sado-masochism.
Scandal
reconstructs the build-up to and eventual explosion of controversy around this
affair, focusing on Keeler (Joanne Whalley) and Stephen Ward (John Hurt), the
society osteopath and friend to the rich and famous who had worked out that if
he found and coached attractive young girls, Henry Higgins-style, into engaging
and fun companions, he could swiftly move up the social ladder by giving the
rich and powerful people they could sleep with. When the Profumo affair blew
up, it was Ward who was left holding the parcel: abandoned by his rich and
powerful friends, Ward was placed on trial as a pimp, vilified in court and in
the press, and eventually committed suicide the night before the court case
finished (which convicted him in absentia of living off immoral earnings).
It’s this miscarriage of justice that Scandal zeroes in on – and the film does a good job of showing that
Ward basically didn’t really do anything that wrong. He didn’t mistreat the
girls, he thought he was helping them improve their lives and he didn’t attempt
to blackmail his friends. His own sex drive seems curiously disconnected (he
was clearly more of voyeur) and if anything, John Hurt (excellent as always) plays
him as a slightly sad social-climber. A sort of Horace Slughorn of sex, far
more excited by his bulging address book, access to the exclusive clubs of
London and calling lords of the land by their matey nicknames, than by all the nooky.
Scandal however is
a rather unemotional, unengaging and distant film. It’s hard to get too wrapped
up in, as it too often goes for documentary checklist rather than real
character engagement. On top of that, it’s often rather unclear – it’s tricky
to tell the exact timelines, it’s hard to see often how some events relate to
others, it’s unclear in particular how Christine Keeler’s relationship with
jazz promoter and drug dealer Johnny Edgecombe led to exposure. It’s a film
that’s both in love with telling the facts and so blinded by them that it
doesn’t turn them into an engaging story.
But then perhaps part of this is because looking back today,
it’s hard to see what all the fuss was about with the Profumo affair. After
generations where government ministers have been accused of everything from
toe-sucking to performing a sex act on a dead pig, it’s hard not to look at the
Granddaddy of all government sex scandals and not think it rather quaint. Today
it would barely merit more than few news cycles: and Profumo would certainly
have been back in the cabinet within two years. Even the spy angle (was Profumo
leaking secrets to Keeler, who in turn leaked them to Ivanov?) was widely (and
almost immediately) discredited at the time.
Not that the seismic impact really comes across anyway in
the film. This is partly because the film focuses on Ward and Keeler in
particular. For the two of them, there wasn’t much at stake – until their lives
were destroyed. In fact, for most of these people at the various dodgy parties
– other than embarrassing tittle-tattle – there wasn’t much at stake. A film
that gave more space to Profumo – and really made-clear what he was running the
risk of losing here, particularly after he lied to Parliament – might have made
it clearer the dangers that all involved were inadvertently running.
But that would have been to dent the film’s purpose of
showing Ward and Keeler as essentially innocents abroad. Joanne Whalley has a
particularly difficult job as a Keeler so thoughtless, short-sighted and
self-obsessed, she verges on the dim. Whalley makes her bright, engaging and
fun-loving, but never with a whiff of sense. By the time Keeler is blurting out
totally unconnected Profumo facts when speaking to the police about her
relationship with Edgecombe, you can tell she doesn’t have a chance.
The film’s real strength though is John Hurt’s masterful
performance as Stephen Ward. Hurt’s pock-marked face and ruddy complexion
(going through a difficult divorce he allegedly spent most of the filming
struggling with alcoholism) and slightly sweaty desperation are perfect for the
role. A natural victim as an actor, he makes Ward always slightly desperate,
always trying too hard, always the grammar-school boy pushing his nose up
against society’s window. He’s a super creepy Henry Higgins grooming girls for
a “better life” (his genuine belief!) and getting himself an entrée into posh
society at the same time.
Ward, the film argues, didn’t feel he was ever doing
anything wrong – and he realises far too late that society, his posh friends
and the government don’t agree. “It’ll blow over” he reassures Ivanov: totally
wrong. Ward basically was a hedonist who wanted people to have a good time –
and was thrilled to be invited to the party. When the shit hit the fan, he was
dumped with the blame. It’s an angry note that the film – with its obsession
with covering so much ground – fumbles slightly: it wants to be a searing
indictment of the hypocrisy of the upper classes, but it fudges the emotional
connection so much that you can’t feel it as much as you should.
Instead Scandal
just sort of simmers rather than boils. It doesn’t communicate what a sea
change this was in how Britain viewed its politicians and upper classes – from
hereon they were always seen as men with feet of clay – and it doesn’t get the
audience feeling as angry or engaged with things as you might expect. It has a
lot of sex in it but (perhaps deliberately) it’s not sexy – the orgy scenes
would make a great mood killer – and it seems to miss the hedonistic tone that
dominated the class at the time.
There is some decent directing – a scene of Mandy
Rice-Davies and Christine Keeler preparing for a night on the town is
particularly well done – and some strong acting, not least from Ian McKellen is
a slimy Profumo (rumour has it a recently de-closted McKellen was keen on the
role as it was the most hetrosexual role he could imagine playing!). But it
never quite clicks together into something really emotionally engaging. And it
isn’t quite as clear and easy to follow as you need. Structuring the story as a
kind of love story between virtually the only people in the story who don’t
have sex together is interesting – and Hurt and Whalley are good – but it’s
just not quite a good enough film for what it wants to do.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: only a member of this blog may post a comment.