Written and directed by Mike Leigh. Cinematography by Roger Pratt. Starring: Philip Davis, Ruth Sheen, Edna Dore, Philip Jackson, Heather Tobias, Leslie Manville, David Bamber. Rated: R -- language, nudity, Marxism.
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High Hopes (1988)
In its own leisurely and unassuming way, this bracing and unpredictable film dares to tease, trick and seduce us with savage satirical wit and gentle compassion. In the process, High Hopes becomes a cleansing and renewing experience, stripping away those dingy layers of lusterless formula that have accumulated over time (clogging and dulling your cinematic senses), as if they were so many sticky old coats of waxy yellow build-up on your linoleum. Writer/director Leigh (who later became well-known in America with Life is Sweet, Naked, and Secrets & Lies) magically combines personal and political concerns, outlandish caricature and understated naturalism in a film that moves you in marvelous and unexpected ways. We wander casually into High Hopes, just as wide-eyed as Wayne, a dough-faced small-town boy in his 20s who has just set foot in the bustling, sprawling metropolis of London. Hopelessly discombobulated by his first exposure to the big city, Wayne asks directions of a scraggly-bearded and bespectacled motorcyclist named Cyril (Philip Davis). The lost boy's good-natured naiveté catches Cyril off-guard, and when he can't help him decipher the inadequate address his mum has provided him, Cyril invites Wayne home to consult a street map.This becomes our means of introduction to Shirley (Ruth Sheen), Cyril's girlfriend of a decade or so, who makes tea for Wayne and acquaints him with their family of cacti -- all of whom are christened with euphemisms for the male genitals except for the biggest and prickliest, named (what else?) Thatcher. Cyril and Shirley are one of the most convincing couples in modern movies. Former college Marxists, they've settled down in their mid-30s as working-class intellectuals, trying to adjust the utopian/revolutionary ideals of their youth to fit the realities of growing up. You can actually feel their history of mutual growth and accommodation in the unconsciously intimate rapport they've come to share. Having been shaped slowly and naturally over so many years of everyday use, it now fits them like a second skin, as comfortable as the well-weathered jeans and wrinkled woolen sweaters they wear. As they respond to the unexpected appearance in their lives of this rather odd, orphaned stranger, they communicate subtly in a fluent private language of touches and glances.Their ease with each other, and the teasing but nurturing attitude they take toward Wayne, makes Cyril and Shirley immediately likeable. They're amused (even a bit charmed) by Wayne's inexperience in the urban world, and even rib him about it a little, but they genuinely try their best to help him out. We, too, feel somewhat protective of Wayne and hope these people won't hurt or take advantage of him. When they prove worthy of his (and our) trust, we want to get to know them better. Cyril, his face obscured behind the bushy blond beard of an aging radical, and Shirley, with her homely/adorable Shelley Duvall overbite, certainly don't look like motion picture lead actors. They look too real, like those character actors to whom you always wish the movie would devote more screen time. By this point, having followed him through the credits sequence and into Cyril and Shirley's apartment, we've pretty much imprinted on Wayne and expect him to lead us through the rest of the film. We can only hope, then, that Cyril and Shirley will become his friends. (Or maybe adopt him: making a bed for Wayne in the spare room and tucking him in for the night, Shirley exhibits a touching, maternal tenderness.) We know that Wayne (and we) will be in good hands with them -- and, besides, we really like these people and want to hang out with them some more.The next morning, Wayne toddles off in search of his sister's place as Cyril and Shirley wave goodbye and ... (surprise!) the camera remains with Cyril and Shirley. Wayne turns out to be a minor character in the grand scheme of things, just passing through the picture. In High Hopes (not unlike life itself), you never know just who is going to figure prominently, or which seemingly innocuous incidents will turn out to be crucial events in people's lives. Not much happens, really. Cyril and Shirley make an afternoon pilgrimage to the tomb of Karl Marx and pay a visit to Cyril's 70-year-old mum, Mrs. Bender (Edna Dore), who suffers from the early stages of Alzheimer's Disease. Mrs. Bender lives alone in her semi-detached home, the only remaining working-class tenant on an otherwise gentrified block. Her dingy housefront stands out like a single tobacco-stained tooth in a row of gleaming whites.Mrs. Bender's next-door neighbors are the supercilious Boothe-Braines, Rupert (David Bamber) and Laeticia (Leslie Manville), a pair of upper-class twits who spend most of their time chattering and consuming at restaurants, the opera, or their weekend country house. Leigh presents the Boothe-Braines as hideous, grating (but appallingly funny) caricatures, in clashing contrast to the low-key, naturalistic manner of Cyril and Shirley. Meanwhile, Cyril's perpetually hysterical sister Valerie (Heather Tobias) -- all fluttering eyelashes, twitching limbs and nervously tittering laughter -- lives a materially spoiled but emotionally unfulfilled middle-class life with her boorish, philandering husband Martin (Philip Jackson). Neglected by her spouse, Valerie in turn neglects her mother and devotes most of her time and energy to shopping and doting on her Afghan hound, whom she calls Baby.In a strategic sequence of loosely-structured, open-ended scenes, Leigh slowly allows his ideas to emerge through his characters. An underlying/unifying motif that keeps bobbing to the surface in High Hopes is that of children as our only hopes for the future, if there is to be one. This is a movie about the responsibilities of being a parent, and a child, in the '80s. Shirley aches to have a child, but Cyril is too disillusioned with society to want to bring a kid into this uncertain, chaotic, corrupted mess of a world. And yet, we can easily see what good parents they would be from the way they treat Wayne and Mrs. Bender (who has become something of a child to her own children). Childless Valerie has a surrogate baby in her dog, but remains a silly, helpless and irresponsible child herself -- as do the ridiculous, immature Boothe-Braines.On a greater scale, the movie examines our responsibilities as citizens, and as a culture, to care for the elderly, the homeless, and others who cannot care for themselves. It's a difficult, infuriating tangle of issues and emotions, and Leigh does not (cannot) provide simple, artificial solutions for his characters, or for society at large. But for a wondrous moment at the end of the film, High Hopes rises above the mundane confusion of everyday life and gives us a fleetingly transcendent overview, a glimpse of clarity and tranquility at the "top o' the world," that restores perspective and revitalizes hope. That's a rare blessing -- and High Hopes is one precious miracle of a movie.
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