GOODBYE, MR. CHIPS (1969)

     

Petula Clark wonders what she ever saw in Mr. Chips?

 GOODBYE, MR. CHIPS (1969). Director:    Herbert Ross. Screenplay by Terence      Rattigan.

 "Yesterday I was their age. Tomorrow they'll    be my age. Sooner, much sooner, than they  know."

  This version of the classic film Goodbye, Mr.    Chips adds technicolor, panavision, music and lyrics, as well as a half hour to the running time, and it still can't compare to the original. Although he gives it -- pardon me -- the old college try,  Peter O'Toole is gravely miscast as Mr. Chipping. His performance has some good moments, but by and large he fails to make Mr. Chips anything more than an old fuddy duddy that would hardly endear himself to students, women, or anyone else. In the original, Robert Donat was a fuddy duddy, yes, but he imbued the character with warmth, charm, and humanity, things O'Toole completely lacks. Surprisingly, Petula Clark, better known as the pop singer of "Downtown" and other hits but who also had an acting career, gives a sharp and confident and believable performance as Chips' wife, the colorful entertainer, Katherine. In the original film, Chips' wife, played by Greer Garson, was another more or less genteel soul (although more outgoing than her husband) so her union with Chips never seemed implausible. But in this remake, one can't ever imagine the free-spirited Katherine seriously hooking up with the dense, stuffy and altogether unpleasant school teacher, Chips. If the on-camera relationship works, it's strictly because of Clark. The only scene in this movie that ever comes close to having the quality of the original version is when Chips is in the classroom when he discovers his wife has died -- not in childbirth as in the first movie, but blown up by a German bomb. Otherwise, this movie is not very moving (not even the aforementioned scene, frankly) and seems to do everything it can to avoid even honest sentiment. Except for one incident, WW1 is glossed over as if it hardly happened and Mrs. Chips might just as well have been killed in a car accident. The songs, with both music and lyrics by Leslie Bricusse, (John Williams also contributed to the score), are hit or miss. There's a lovely boys chorus early in the picture, and an excellent "London is London" production number when Katherine appears in a stage musical before meeting Chips, some mildly pretty ditties, but with few exceptions the lyrics are trite and cliche-ridden. Petula Clark has a perfectly good voice, but O'Toole should have been strongly importuned to have his singing dubbed -- he is, in a word, awful. Herbert Ross' [The Last of Sheila] direction is fairly leaden and it is an effort to even sit through this all the way to the conclusion. Michael Redgrave is okay but nearly invisible as the headmaster; Sian Phillips [Becket] scores as Katherine's friend, the pixilated Ursula Mossbank; as does Michael Bryant [The Ruling Class] as fellow teacher, Max; and there is some very nice work from the boys, especially Michael Culver, Tom Owen, and John Gugolka.

Verdict: Pretty bad remake that seems to get worse the longer it goes on. **.

BECKET

Richard Burton and Peter O'Toole

BECKET (1964). Director: Peter Glenville.

In the 12th century the Saxon Thomas Becket (Richard Burton) becomes friend, companion -- and some feel, collaborator -- with King Henry II (Peter O'Toole) -- and the two go "drinking and wenching" together. First Henry makes Beckett the Royal Chancellor, and then hits upon the idea of making him Archbishop of Canterbury. This is done because of the friction between the king and the Catholic Church, but Henry gets a surprise when Becket takes his role seriously and becomes seriously pious. When an arrested priest escapes jail and is killed by a Nobleman, Becket wants the man excommunicated, which Henry sees as a blow against England. If Becket goes ahead with his plans, there will be terrible consequences ... Becket is a handsome, well-produced, and well-acted film with a fine score by Laurence Rosenthal, striking production design by John Bryan, and excellent wide-screen photography by Geoffrey Unsworth, but Becket must not be taken as literal history. Edward Anhalt's script was based on a poorly-researched play by Jean Anouilh which ignores the fact that Becket was not a Saxon, but a Norman as Henry was. While this may add more motive and conflict to the story, it simply isn't true. Then there's the blatant homoerotic element. The relationship between the two men first seems like a warm if cautious friendship, but turns strange (by 1964 standards) when Henry's wife and mother both object to the presence of Becket in the king's life. Henry's mother accuses her son of having an "unhealthy" and "unnatural" obsession with him; O'Toole plays certain scenes like a discarded lover; Henry clearly loves Becket much more than his wife and children; and at one point cries out in anguish in front of his men at how much he still loves Thomas Becket. If King Henry II had romantic or sexual longings for Becket, or if the two had a relationship early in life, there has never been any historical proof of it . In a sense the portrayal of Henry is the cliche of the tormented homosexual or bisexual man who acts as much out of "twisted" passion and rejection as anything else, like Rod Steiger's character in The Sergeant.

Richard Burton is excellent as Becket, while O'Toole is superb as the king. There is also fine work from John  Gielgud as the King of France; Donald Wolfit [Room at the Top] as Bishop Folliot, who'd hoped to be made Archbishop himself; David Weston as Brother John, a would-be assassin (of Becket) turned monk; and Sian Phillips as Gwendolyne, who loves Becket and comes to a sad fate. As the movie's representations of Henry's mother and wife, respectively, Martita Hunt [The Brides of Dracula] and Pamela Brown seem merely to be striking poses and busily "acting" compared to the others. Besides the distortion of history, there are other problems with the movie, such as the "cutesy" element of some scenes, with the king acting like a girl-crazy adolescent and the Pope almost turned into a figure out of a sitcom. There is absolutely no sense of the passage of time.

Verdict: Entertaining, dramatic "history" served up on a now dated psycho-sexual platter. ***.