This month Old Academy Anew explores 1983’s The Dresser; not to be confused with the 2015 remake starring Sir Ian McKellen and Sir Anthony Hopkins. Character-driven, entirely British, and overly Shakespearean; this movie is what our modern, jaded sensibilities would call absolute Oscar-bait by its theatricality and themes.
Places, everyone. Curtain’s going up in three, two, one!
ACT ONE
The film starts with shaky opening credits. Just white lettering on a black background with a score suspiciously reminiscent of Shakespeare in Love (1998). Now, in any case, the Gwyneth Paltrow vehicle copied this one because it came after. Anyhoo– amid this minimalist introduction, a newscaster sets the time frame for the story; WW2, bombs still falling over England. The King, the Queen, Winston Churchill, and President Roosevelt are mentioned almost like shameless product placement in a superhero flick. We continue now with visual infodumps as we pan over manly hands putting away tubes of theater makeup.
The introduction to one of our protagonists is his distorted reflection on a commemorative plate as he polishes it. The citizens of some country places gave a simple award to the other protagonist for a great Hamlet performance. This blink-and-you-miss-it moment is a foreshadowing of the highest caliber; an omen of things to come.
BY THE TIME THE DRESSER PROPERLY SHOWS US NORMAN (TOM COURTENAY), THE GLITTERY ELEPHANT IN THE ROOM DOESN’T NEED TO BE ADDRESSED BUT DISSECTED.
The other main character, only known as “Sir” throughout the film, screams the last lines of Othello. Norman awaits him, beer at the ready, on the edge of the stage. As the other actors finish the play, Sir (Albert Finney) hisses instructions and corrections; never mind he’s supposed to be dead over Desdemona.
As soon as the curtain is down, Sir jumps, berating several characters on stage and grabbing the beer from Norman. This isn’t done quietly, but he seems not to care if the spectators hear him. He returns center stage dramatically to thank the viewers and promote the location of their next presentation.
The following scene finds Norman washing the dark makeup from Sir in one of those giant steel tubs. We previously saw a cantankerous, dramatic actor; now we observe a decrepit old man held together by his dresser’s pampering sycophancy. There’s something absolutely cringey about a technically able-bodied man being handled like a toddler by another adult. And this is just the beginning.
The company of mostly aging actors is late for the connection between trains. Norman begs the train guard to wait a few more minutes before giving the signal for departure. Holding luggage in both hands, he runs now to the driver. This one also ignores Norman’s plea and starts the train upon the guard’s whistle.
Wheels turn; the iron horse exhales dark fumes, and Norman whines– imagining his master’s tantrum. But then, channeling a deity from some Shakespearean play, Sir yells, “Stop. That. Train!” The metal beast is instantly paralyzed as if stunned by the commanding actor. Other passengers declare outrage, but the gray-haired company gets on board, deaf to their protests.
ACT TWO
THE DRESSER MOVES TO A NEW CITY, WITH THE SAME SET OF CIRCUMSTANCES: THE FEAR OF BOMBINGS, THE RATIONS, AND SIR’S MOOD SWINGS. THESE “NORMAL” THINGS ARE ABOUT TO ESCALATE TO BECOME THE PERFECT STORM TO SINK THIS SHIP.
Here and there, we’ve seen snippets of Sir being afraid; not only of his decaying health but of the war erasing his legacy. The conflict has left his company filled with old people and unfit for battle. His performances are memorable, not so much the others around him, at least, according to him. Now those dark dreams and foreboding musings burst into full panic attacks in public places.
Norman is there, constant and vigilant and ready to coax Sir into a semblance of sanity. But, that’s just it, a semblance, an illusion; the irascible actor is one iambic pentameter soliloquy away from absolute madness.
The opening night looms closer as the latest public outburst lands Sir in the hospital. The manager lady is worried and considering canceling the show. Norman, who’s meek and vastly passive in most interactions, launches a passionate defense of his boss, asking them to wait. I guess you can see the pattern here.
The old curmudgeon discharges himself from the hospital and arrives at the theater demanding to get ready for the show. In his dressing room, he bounces between epic thespian and infirm grandpa, confusing King Lear’s lines with other plays. Norman flutters around alternating from cheerleader to nanny– encouraging and doting.
IN FULL SHAKESPEAREAN FORM, THE DRESSER TURNS FROM TRAGEDY TO COMEDY AND BACK, BUT THERE’S ALWAYS A SENSE OF BEREAVEMENT LURKING BETWEEN FLASHES OF GOLD. WE CAN SEE THIS WON’T END WELL FOR ALL INVOLVED.
Air-raid sirens wail as the company approaches the stage. “The night I played my first Lear, there was a real thunderstorm. Now they send bombs,” Sir says. “How much more will I have to endure? Tonight we are to speak Will Shakespeare, and they will go to any lengths to prevent me!” Yikes.
“I shouldn’t take it so personally, Sir” is Norman’s automatic response. “Bomb, bomb, bombs us into oblivion if you dare,” Sir continues, undeterred. “But each word I speak will be a shield against your savagery. Each line I utter, protection from your terror.” “I don’t think they can hear you, Sir,” Norman counters once more.
The character of Davenport Scott has been mentioned throughout the film, but we’ll get into him later. The aforementioned individual usually gives the announcement in these circumstances. Alas, he’s not there, and every other member of the company is in costume. So the role falls onto Norman, who bitches and moans, citing his bad memory.
Sir yells, and Norman traipses beyond the curtain to botch the wording. Part of the announcement is “Will those who wish to leave do so as quietly as possible.” Instead, he says, “Those who wish to live,” and the crowd laughs. We hear the sound of bombs falling in the distance, but no one leaves. Except for me; I’m cutting it here.
ACT THREE
If you don’t know it, Othello, the character, is a noble Moor fighting for the Venetian army; as conceived by Shakespeare, he’s a dark-skinned Muslim. So, yeah, a white British man playing a swarthy Moor in blackface will be immediate grounds for cancelling in 2023; and that was in the first five minutes of the film.
THE QUESTION OF WHETHER THE 1983 VERSION OF THE DRESSER COULD BE DONE OR NOT IN THIS DECADE IS ONE I’M HONESTLY AFRAID TO ASK. AND NOT FOR THE FIRST REASONS THAT COULD SPRING TO YOUR MIND.
I’m one against homework; barely did it in school and not gonna do it now for movies or other media. I might investigate if something intrigues me enough, though. Nevertheless, I don’t bother 83.7% of the time. Thus, I’m not going to check if the 2015 version of this movie “improved/modernized” certain situations. If I recall correctly, the social media miasma we’re waddling through started in earnest only a few years ago; when the virus that shan’t be named gave us too much time to bitch about nothing.
The relationship between Norman and Sir is one of toxic codependency. Their poisonous symbiosis could and should be studied by psychology scholars for eons. This is one of the reasons for an unlikely decent remake.
Most of those entrusted with the power to write our entertainment today cannot look beyond themselves; They attempt to impart instruction instead of giving us something to forget our harsh conditions for a while. In many ways, they act like Sir– and want everyone else to be their Normans; there to cater to their every whim without giving a fukken fook about our circumstances.
According to the tale weaved through the film, Davenport Scoot is incarcerated. It’s never stated in full, but, by the adjectives and pronouns used around him, his crime is Sodomy. I question a world in the middle of a global war still meddling in the business of bumping uglies. Now, Norman flames hard since minute one, and it makes you wonder. Was it okay to be effeminate, but if someone insinuated you were a pillow biter it was handcuffs?
THE DRESSER THROWS QUESTIONS AT US, EXPECTING SELF-ARRIVAL TO CONCLUSIONS THAT COULD EASILY CHANGE DEPENDING ON THE YEAR THOSE QUESTIONS ARISE.
Mind you, this film is framed within WW2 but opened at the height of the AIDS crisis. Generation WhateverNomeclatureAfter2000 has no effing clue about the social land escape of the 80s; therefore, they’d only see this movie affected by the current social fragility permeating the internet.
There’s also the question of how Fame interferes with our perception of others. Sir is an absolute asshole, but many around him forgive his appalling behavior thanks to his commanding stage presence. We aren’t strangers to that; we forgive famous people all the time, but our double standard is fickle and chaotic. We might be lenient with a cruel offender today and harsh accusers to someone who barely slipped tomorrow. Looking at you Big Orange A-hole.
Norman is more than “the dresser.” He’s valet, personal assistant, psychiatrist, nanny, shoulder to cry on, and even memory holder. Was he in love with his master? That’s up for interpretation. His abject submission could be chalked up to unrequited love, but also to a need for protection; something that has nothing to do with Love/Lust and a lot with self-preservation.
This is an excellent film even if it left me with a bad taste in my mouth. And I’m still trying to decide if that aftertaste is spoiled milk or ashes. 8 out of 10.
The Dresser is currently streaming on YouTube.