Richard Lester | 85 mins | download | 15
I’ve never actually seen a Richard Lester film before, and so spectacularly failed to put two-and-two together about who the director was and what else he’d done before I watched this. If I had, recent (at the time of viewing) reviews of the BFI’s release of Lester’s later The Bed Sitting Room (such as John Hodson’s or Clydefro Jones’) might’ve prepared me for what was to come.
As it was, all I had to go on was the DVD art (as used by iTunes — this was another 99p Film of the Week), the bright and breezy title, and that it stars Frank Spencer. From that you’d be forgiven (I hope) for thinking The Knack was a colourful Swinging Sixties sex-com romp. Upon watching it, however, it’s immediately clear it’s nothing of the sort: it begins with a dream/nightmare sequence, complete with horror-esque music, before settling into a style and rhythm more reminiscent of Breathless than Confessions of a Window Cleaner.
At least, it does for a bit. In fact, it does a lot of things for a bit: Carry On-level double entendres, intense thriller-like scenes, slapstick sequences, an occasional New Wave-esque light jazz score… If it were an American schoolchild The Knack would surely be diagnosed with ADD, flitting around from one style to another with no immediately obvious rhyme nor reason, except perhaps a desire to try out interesting things and see where they lead. This will undoubtedly put some people off — on another day, I might be included among them — but instead I found it quite intriguing.
Stuck in the middle of what could have been a slew of directorial flourishes, the cast are allowed to surprise with some layered performances. Michael Crawford more or less does an early version of Frank Spencer (in fairness, that’s perfect for the role), leaving him overshadowed by Ray Brooks as lothario Tolen and Donal Donnelly as the slightly kooky Tom. Both subvert their initial impressions: Donnelly’s oddness hides a perceptive intelligence, while Brooks’ suave lover hides a subtly unnerving, menacing, dominating sexual predator. Some of the time, anyway.
There’s no doubt that I’m severely under-qualified to pass any kind of serious judgement on The Knack (some would say any film, but there you go). I’ve not even mentioned Rita Tushingham (apparently something of a ’60s icon), or Ray McBride (who or what is he, and what is his relevance?), or that it won the Palme d’Or at Cannes in 1965 (I do know what that is at least). A proper, informed judgement is therefore best left to those with a greater familiarity with Lester’s films (or at least his early work, before he went on to the likes of The Four Musketeers and Superman III). But to those equally as uninitiated as I, The Knack can be recommended as an unusual but surprising piece of work, full of things to pique one’s interest.