Friday, May 13, 2022

O Big Brother, Where Art Thou?

Nineteen Eighty-Four (Rudolph Cartier, 1954)

A prime candidate from twentieth century literature that has become ingrained in our cultural zeigeist would arguably have to be George Orwell's 1949 novel, Nineteen Eighty-Four. A chilling and cautionery tale set in a dystopian future where the human soul is forever controlled and oppressed by a totaliarian regime. Its influence is still felt today; from words and phrases that have become part of our lexicon, such as "doublethink" and "thoughtcrime" and "Room 101", to today's constant tracking of the masses with surveillance and the stifliing of creative freedoms via censorship. Critical thinkers and intellectuals continue to evaluate Orwell's novel, but a humble proletariat like myself has always enjoyed dystopian sci-fi. Regardless if it draws parallels to today's political and governmental ideologies, or not, its reappropriation of creative works from the past and reshaping it into a new context, is cause to take note. It took a combination of Apathy's awful song, bork football fans and Corbynistas which finally broke me and gave up on enjoying the one and only song I liked by The White Stripes.

Held off watching this the longest, as I refuse to watch 144p quality rips of Rudolph Cartier's 1954 adaptation on the YouTubes. Finally, in between their shite screenings that no-one with half-a-brain wants to see, the BFI released the blu-ray. Sadly, since it was mostly a live teleplay, only a few film inserts got the lavish high definition treatment (although what a sight they are). It's not all bad, though, since the adaptation itself is a captivating two-hour affair. 

Peter Cushing plays Winston Smith, the Outer Party drone protagonist longing to feel free from Big Brother's oppressive regime. It's perhaps the earliest leading role I've ever seen him in. Little did I know, it was based on this performance which garnered Hammer's interest in him; so it's possibly one of his most pivotol career choices. The portrayal of Citizen Smith is way more nuanced than the other interpretations I've seen thus far. It's hard to call him a "hero" in simple terms, since he admits to committing something utterly vile from his past, that I find unforgivable. Although, to be fair, it's a situation that the majority of us are blessed never ever to be placed in.

The rest of the cast are also solid, too. Yvonne Mitchell is a bit too old for my liking as Smith's love interest, but I she had good chemisty on with The Cush, not to mention an appealing introduction, regardless. Donald Pleasence has a small role as Syme, The Ministry of Truth's wordsmith, working on Newspeak adaptations of classic literature. There's also Albert Steptoe himself, Wilfrid Brambell, in not one, but two very minor roles. The always stellar André Morell plays one of Big Brother's higher-ups, O' Brien. Goes without saying that Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee are a dope combo like fish and chips, but it's worth pointing out that The Cush and Morell never fail to disappoint when together on screen. Best Holmes and Watson, in this humble blogger's opinion, but it's worth checking out Quentin Lawrence's underrated crime thriller, Cash On Demand (1961) for the spectacular performances between the pair on screen.

Of the three adaptations of Nineteen Eighty-Four that I have sat through, my favourites would be Michael Radford's decayed industrial vision released in 1984, and this, the 1954 teleplay for the BBC. Cartier's production being the most faithful of the two, but they both have their individual pros and cons. Worth taking into consideration, it was a controversial choice for Sunday night TV i fifties Great Britain. If only I could pick and mix all the elements that I like, though. Peter Cushing has a way more relatable complexity about him in his depiction of Winston Smith; while John Hurt's, as commendable as it is, feels far more linear. Yvonne Mitchell seems a bit too old as the kinky Julia and despite Andre Morrell's O'Brien being superb, it doesn't reach the level of Richard Burton's last hurrah as the chilling Inner Party member. They're both great in many respects; with their own highlights to take into account and without going on another conflicted path like my other recent post, it's worth checking out the pair of them. Can't get any more diplomatic than that, comrade.

Nineteen Eighteen-Four (Two Minutes Hate Scene)
(Rudolph Cartier, 1954)

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