Spotlight

Spotlight Date: 13-July-03
Spoiler Rating: Medium

The Winslow Boy (1999)

The first time I saw "The Winslow Boy" I didn't realize how much I liked it until it was more than half over. This was because I was expecting a historical drama that exposed a chapter in Britain's forensic and social history, and I kept waiting for thundering accusations of injustice and bitter scenes of innocent people sacrificed on the altar of propriety and protocol, none of which ever materialized. My second viewing, however, was more consistently enjoyable because I was able to view the film for what it is (and because I knew it was leading up to one of the greatest endings I have ever seen). Based on a stage play by Terence Rattigan, as updated by director David Mamet, "The Winslow Boy" revolves around a real-life British court case and provides insight into a particular era and culture, but it does so by focusing on a group of interesting individuals who are as unforgettable for their personal qualities and experiences as for their larger historical significance.

The movie concerns a genteel London family whose quiet, respectable life is thrown into upheaval after their youngest son is expelled from the Royal Naval Academy for stealing a 5-shilling postal order. (Winslow is the name which Rattigan gave to the actual persons involved in the famous 1908 incident.) The paterfamilias, Arthur Winslow (the late Nigel Hawthorne of the wonderful countenance), is convinced that his son is innocent and enraged that the Academy neither notified the parents nor provided any legal counsel to the boy before sacking him. When his requests for appeal fall on deaf ears, he and his daughter Catherine (Rebecca Pidgeon) decide to pursue the difficult course of suing the crown for the right to plead the case in Parliament (a move necessitated by the fact that the Academy is an office of the King and therefore almost above reproach). As the suit becomes a drawn-out affair and sparks a national media frenzy, the Winslows fall prey to their own cause: Arthur's health begins to fail; his wife's complacent good nature yields to bitterness; Catherine's fiancé, John, gets cold feet; and the older son, Dickie, is pulled out of Oxford so that the family can channel its funds into legal expenses. In the end, all of their hopes are pinned on the highly esteemed but extremely supercilious barrister Sir Robert Morton (Jeremy Northam, astoundingly sexy), who guides the affair to its wildly anticipated conclusion.

Although Mamet is mostly known for his aggressively modern plays and movie projects, he does an excellent job here in creating a sense of turn-of-the-century England, mostly through the Winslows' home, clothing, habits, and attitudes. The world he reveals is one on the brink of a major change: not only are people like the Winslows and their supporters beginning to challenge the armored authority of the crown, but women like Catherine are clamoring for suffrage, the old forms of gentility are waning (remonstrates Arthur, "a gramophone is out of place in a civilized home"), and some sort of cataclysmic international conflict is brewing (to which Dickie and John both allude). Set against this backdrop, Arthur's passionate commitment to clearing his son's name in such a small affair has a whiff of archaic frivolity; one wonders if perhaps the nobility to which he clings has passed away and is no longer worth the price that he and his family are paying. (Particularly since the Winslow Boy himself quickly recovers from his expulsion and is neither traumatized by the experience nor especially interested in the defense of his honor.) Arthur's conviction and goodness are so palpable, however, that the movie poses the question without condemning its characters or diminishing the suspense surrounding the outcome of the case.

But while historical interest and legal drama adorn "The Winslow Boy," its greatest attraction lies in the connection between Sir Robert Morton and Catherine Winslow, which enhances all other aspects of the tale. Although Catherine disdains Sir Robert even before she meets him --- representing as he does all the fustiness and arrogance of the landed class --- and although they appear at first to be polar opposites --- she with one foot in the progressive future, he with one foot, at least, in the traditional past --- it becomes apparent that they are, in fact, a match made in heaven. Pidgeon (Mamet's wife) has a limited range and must work to convey warmth, but she brings out Catherine's intelligence and frankness with ease, and these are the things that draw the surprised and fascinated Sir Robert to her. Catherine is at once a pragmatic intellectual devoted to challenging society's feminine roles and a woman who greatly wants to be happy, cherished, and loved by a man. Similarly, Sir Robert is described as "cold and distant and passionless" by a fellow barrister, and yet clearly smolders with a romantic longing and a devotion to justice. Both are smart, independent people determined to stand for something before all the world, who still harbor within their breasts previously uncharted depths of personal yearning and idealism. Though they may never see eye to eye, they will always relate heart to heart, and it's almost breathtaking how much heat they generate in a few subtly articulated scenes. (The final one of which, as I've said, is simply to die for.)

The sudden references to and brief glimpses of the media-fueled cult of the Winslow Boy are not fully explained in the film, and are therefore more perplexing than illustrative (why did people at the time latch on to the story with as much fervor as we now follow Martha Stewart or Ben and JLo?). But the larger picture surrounding the case is not what Mamet is most concerned with. This is a story of people borne of, and representative of, a particular place and time who follow the dictates of their hopes, beliefs, and desires. Because "The Winslow Boy" has such rich personal and cultural perspectives, these pursuits are fascinating, satisfying, and, at times, exciting.

Copyright © 2003 The Jujube (M. I. Kim). All rights reserved.