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In psychiatry, there is a term called ìmetaperceptions.î It means, what we think other people think of us. In 1951's moving, masterful The Browning Version, Arthur Crocker-Harris (Michael Redgrave) is about to find out that his metaperception radar is way, way off. Crocker-Harris is a Classic professor at a public school in Britain (ìpublic schoolî in England being the equivalent of ìprivate schoolî in America ). A humorless, unfeeling man who's managing to decompose while still alive, Crocker-Harris can spew arcane Greek and Latin verses with the best of them, but he can't imbue them with life or make them interesting to his young charges, who call him The Crock. Talking in an arrogant, fastidious drone, Crocker-Harris is as cold as the walls that entomb him and his students, who are reminded of their fate by hearing the full-bodied laughter of the boys down the hall in Frank Hunter's chemistry class. At first, the students don't seem to hate Arthur more than they hate any teacher who makes them work too hard or has no sense of humor. But as he is about to learn, he is hated on a deeper level, and by more people then he ever imagined.
Arthur sets sail on his course to self-realization after quitting his post due to ill health. He plans to leave town with his wife Millie (Jean Kent) and take a job at a facility that will accommodate his limited energies. As his 18 years at the school dwindle to their final hours, Crocker-Harris is dealt a double ego blow. Firstly, the school's Headmaster (Wilfrid Hyde-White) informs him that he's being denied a pension. Secondly, at his final graduation ceremony, where he assumes he'll be given a hero's farewell, he's asked to forgo giving the evening's final speech in favor of a beloved teacher leaving to play on the English cricket team. Arthur will give the evening's second-to-final speech, a humiliating demotion. Millie doesn't seem too upset about the speech part, but she is upset about Arthur being turned down for a pension, since it will preclude him from fulfilling his primary husbandly duty: providing for his wife.
As these slings and arrow start chipping away at him, he begins to consider his life a failure. The affair that Millie's been conducting with Frank Hunter, the knowledge of which Arthur has submerged for years, suddenly begins to get to him. His dam finally bursts when a young student named Taplow (Brian Smith) gives Arthur a copy of Robert Browning's translation of Agamemnon. Nothing in his 18 years of teaching were ever inspiring enough to incite a student to buy him a gift. And when Millie tries to wound Arthur irrevocably by claiming that Taplow's gift is merely an attempt to kiss up to him, Arthur begins to rethink his marriage, his career, his actions and the actions of those around him.
British playwright Terrance Rattigan is master of repressed feelings and unfolding layers of socially acceptable behavior. He trod similar territory in his play The Winslow Boy , about a youngster accused of stealing a postal order and the parents who insist on a trial to prove his innocence. That play became a film in 1948 (directed by Anthony Asquinth, who also directed The Browning Version ) and 1999 (directed by David Mamet). However, what we have in The Browning Version is a lead performance by Michael Redgrave that charts one of cinema's great unravelings. Even when Arthur begins to realize that he's failed as a husband and a teacher, he still manages to submerge most of it, intellectualizing it like one of his books. When he cries upon receiving Taplow's gift, it's Arthur's only show of emotion in the entire movie. Millie's desire to undercut the boy's kindly gesture, in the end, does Arthur the greatest favor: he realizes his marriage is a sham and he needs to get out. For once, Arthur must act on emotional impulse. Redgrave, to his undying credit, never overplays it, or goes for sentimentality. The realization of his failure as a teacher and a husband rises like a curtain. It's this restraint that gives the movie its power. After all is said and done, the rest of Arthur's life may not be any happier. But at least he'll face it knowing exactly who he is.
The Video: How Does The Disc Look?
The film's 1.33:1 aspect ratio is maintained in this excellent transfer. I was expecting many more print flaws, so I was happily surprised when I only noticed the occasional piece of dirt or dull yellow scratch. I was also surprised at the level of detail. You can read the entire title page of Crocker-Harris's youthful translation of Agamemnon as well as other bits of detail that would normally be a blur. Blacks are pretty deep, going farther than the dark gray that mars other B&W transfers. Whites tend toward off-white, but it didn't put much of a dent in overall contrast quality, which was quite good. Most of the visual inconsistencies that befall black and whites transfers are not found here. However, faces, and especially sweaty foreheads, show some mosquito noise. According to Criterion, ìthis new high definition transfer was created on a Spirit Datacine from a 35mm fine-grain master positive. Thousands of instances of dirt, debris, and scratches were removed using the MTI Digital Restoration Systems.î And seeing the results, I don't doubt it.
The Audio: How Does The Disc Sound?
Quoting again from the DVD packaging, ìthe soundtrack was mastered at 24-bit from the 35mm optical soundtrack positive and audio restoration tools were used to reduce clicks, pops, hiss and crackle. The Dolby Digital 1.0 signal will be directed to the center channel on 5.1-channel sound systems, but some viewers may prefer to switch to two-channel playback for a wider dispersal of the mono sound.î And let me just say, I agree. When a film is this old, what it doesn't have becomes more important than what it does have. Here, the mix does not have any hiss, nor does is seem to have much in the way of audible pops or clicks. Dialogue is okay, if a bit thin. Plus, some of the accents were too thick for my American ears, which made me briefly switch on the subtitles. There is almost no music in the film, but what little there is (at the beginning and at the end) is string heavy and doesn't sound particularly full. In all, a good mono track.
Supplements: What Goodies Are There?
Criterion either puts an amazing amount of extras on a disc, or they throw in a commentary and little else. Here, we have a commentary and little else. The bonus audio track is by film historian Bruce Eder. He seems to be reading off notes, which sounds awkward. Eder talks of the many cinema collaborations between director Anthony Asquith and playwright Terrence Rattigan, and how the original one-act play unfolds entirely in the sitting room of the Crocker-Harris flat. In fact, the entire first twenty minutes of the movie was never in the stage production. Eder 's comments smack of a film historian who knows an okay amount about the subject, but he did lots of research beforehand and offered to spit out what he learned for the DVD. Stilted, but not uninteresting.
In 1994, Mike Figgis ( Leaving Las Vegas ) directed a remake of The Browning Version , starring Albert Finney as Crocker-Harris. Figgis is interviewed for this Criterion release, and his comments run about twenty minutes. His first story is his best: channel flipping before attending a dinner party, Figgis happens upon The Browning Version. Not knowing what he's watching, he sits through the entire movie and, as a result, is very late to the party. As it turns out, the party is being given by Ridley Scott's producer and when Figgis blames his tardiness on The Browning Version , the producer says that Ridley owns the remake rights. Months later, Figgis is on-set, directing his own version of the movie. Video quality is digital clean and fullscreen.
There's nothing better than an old school, vintage interview . And here we have a chat with star Michael Redgrave that originally aired on the British TV program Picture Parade in 1958. In this black and white, fullscreen interview, Redgrave says he's attracted to difficult roles. Not a contract player, he was able to choose whatever parts he wanted. Asked whether the lack of studio guidance helped or hurt his career, he says, the studio ìwould have chosen one aspect of me and made me repeat that until everybody was tired of it.î Quite the uptight chap, the interview is more Inside the Actor's Studio than The Tonight Show . Video quality is aged and filled with mosquito noise. But who cares?
Finally, there is a very nice essay about director Anthony Asquith (with emphasis on The Browning Version ), written by London-based writer Geoffrey Macnab.
Final Thoughts
Meticulously crafted story of failure and regret, The Browning Version features a performance of pinpoint accuracy by Michael Redgrave. Criterion has once again rescued a cinematic gem from the foggy depths of the past and given it digital rebirth. The extras aren't of the quantity we sometimes expect from this most exalted company, but the movie itself will stay with you longer than its 89 minute running time. Recommended.
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