David Reviews Bruce Robinson’s Withnail and I [Blu-ray Review]

Late last month, fans of 1980s British cult cinema saw a few long-time favorites make the leap into 21st century media as four movies from the semi-legendary Handmade Films production company got a well-deserved re-release in the Blu-ray format: The Long Good Friday (reviewed by James here), Time Bandits, Mona Lisa and Withnail and I. That these films also hold down spots in the Criterion Collection, and are indeed among the company’s earliest spine numbers, only adds to their illustrious history. But the news of an upgrade to higher resolution for home viewing, which ought to be a cause for unqualified celebration, comes, alas, with a bit of a downside. Really, it’s a mixed bag. Ryan has made his observations on Time Bandits publicly known here. If you haven’t heard it yet, I’ll cut to the chase: he wasn’t impressed. A subpar transfer (1080i? what’s the point of that?), mediocre special features, shoddy production values and just the sense of a wasted opportunity on a film he holds dear turned out to be a great disappointment. I’m not sure if he’s made his impressions of Mona Lisa public yet, so I won’t speculate here – but I have the duty of telling you all about Withnail and I, the Blu-ray edition… and I’m glad to tell you that my tidings are not quite so bad!

The basis for this somewhat positive report is a comparison with the Criterion DVD, #119, released in 2001, back when DVD was still clawing out its niche in the marketplace and considerations like “anamorphic transfers” didn’t mean a whole lot to the majority of the home video audience. After all, we were still mostly watching on big fat CRT TVs and had no way of telling if a DVD image would fill up a flat screen monitor or not. We did understand the preference for widescreen over full screen though, so the fact that the DVD was letter-boxed didn’t bother us that much. It meant we were getting the full picture, not the pan & scan version.

But within just a few years, as our TVs got bigger and wider, that anamorphic thing became more important, and the lack of automatic widescreen expansion turned into a real problem. My first response, after popping in the Criterion DVD of Withnail and I, was to wonder what that little postcard sized picture was doing in the middle of my gloriously broad monitor. OK, I exaggerate a bit, but I’ll just put it this way: I hate having to use the ZOOM setting when formatting a TV picture – for any reason! But if you want to watch Criterion’s Withnail and I DVD on a contemporary television set, that’s what you’ll have to do, enduring the greater exposure to specks, scratches and artifacts as well as the aggravating evidence of cheap interlacing from time to time – either that, or see the picture engulfed by a big black border.

The Bluray, on the other hand, fills the screen, and does so nicely, with richer color and a more vibrant look to the film as a result. (Here’s a link to the DVDBeaver.com comparisons if you want to see side-by-side screencaps for yourself.) The soundtrack also benefits, and with a bold infusion of Electric Ladyland-era Jimi Hendrix (and even a snippet of the Beatles “While My Guitar Gently Weeps,” since George Harrison was the Executive Producer, after all), you’ll want to hear the film in the highest audio quality possible. Plus it helps to understand the thick accents and frequently mumbled dialog without having to resort to subtitles. As far as the film itself is concerned, this is a solid and affordable representation of a movie that has won itself a loyal and devoted following over the years.

Now the reason I say this is a “somewhat” positive report is that by passing up the Criterion version in favor of this cheaper, newer Bluray edition, you do lose some things – primarily, a very enjoyable supplemental feature called “Withnail & Us” that documents reactions of fans, actors and director Bruce Robinson himself as they look back from a distance of 15 years or so after the film was first released to marvel at the response generated by this debut film, shot on a shoestring budget and almost scrapped altogether due to the producer’s fear that it just wasn’t going to be funny or connect with audiences. There’s also a collection of still photos from the original shoot that is amusing but hardly essential. The Blu-ray, on the other hand, is regrettably bare-bones, with only the theatrical trailer and subtitles to add beyond the film itself. No liner notes either, though you can read Bruce Robinson’s essay, packaged with the Criterion disc, on their website. My bottom line recommendation, for those who really like the movie, is to get ’em both. The Bluray is a significant enough enhancement that it’ll definitely be the version of choice you’ll want to watch if you want to have some friends over and enjoy some hearty laughs at good old late 60’s English debauchery.

As for the film itself, for those unfamiliar with it, I’d say it makes sense to think of it as a British companion piece to Terry Gilliam’s Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. Even though the two films were made nearly 15 years apart and veer off in different directions from each other, they’re both set in that “end of an era” time frame when the early promise of the mid-60s hippie ethos gave way to the cynicism and burnout that sustained over-indulgence of whatever sort inevitably leads to – and they both feature illustrated cover art by Ralph Steadman! Withnail and I tells the story of two unemployed actors whose financial struggles and general sense of being overwhelmed by the fallout of their youthful extravagance drives them to seek any and every form of escape. Seeking a brief respite from the hassles of London, the pair finagle their way to a weekend at a country house owned by Withnail’s corpulent Uncle Monty. The story itself is rather flimsy – it’s basically a road movie packed with dozens of quotable one-liners and almost as many stoner-inspired sight gags, as well as a coming-of-age story. Don’t cringe though – it only turns wistfully sentimental at the very end, when (as so often happens in these semi-autobiographical buddy movies) the two protagonists part ways, one taking the road of responsibility and gainful employment, while the other trudges along toward a more ambiguous and unpromising future. But the thin narrative provides plenty of opportunities to set up laugh-inducing confrontations, awkward moments and spaced-out, acerbic dialog. Withnail, the thoroughly pompous and decadent actor with a much too large sense of himself, could be a straight linear descendant of the dandified sons of privilege found in earlier English comedies like The Importance of Being Earnest – after the family fortune’s been utterly depleted, or at least locked up in a trust before the young wastrels can get their hands on it and drink it all away.

The other main character, identified only as “I” in the credits, (though curiously named Marwood on the Blu-ray jacket copy), serves as Robinson’s stand-in, the bewildered observer who took in the mind-blowing sights and sounds of his youth and returned to it years later to capture those impressions on film. Withnail and I has a rightful place in a long lineage of youth-oriented comedies that serve to chronicle and epitomize a certain age in recent pop-cultural history. Animal House, The Breakfast Club, Dazed and Confused and in contemporary terms, Scott Pilgrim vs. The World, are superior examples among many such films that serve the same purpose: to tell the story of what it was like to be a smart, energized and at least temporarily mixed-up kid in a world that didn’t make a whole lot of sense and threatened to crush our emotional, if not physical, life if we let the confusion get the best of us. I’m really glad that films like Withnail and I and the others it brings to mind exist, even as those years of reckless abandon slip further and further back into memory. They keep us in touch with a vital part of our lives – assuming we made it through all the craziness intact.

(Note: this trailer announces the British Blu-ray release, not the American version. No 7.1 Surround Sound to be found on the disc I reviewed!)

Addendum: This website received an email the other day that happened to mention Withnail and I and the recent trend of upgrading old Criterion DVDs to Blu-ray. One of us writers will probably expand on the topic in the near future, but for now, one must wonder why Criterion didn’t handle the upgrade of these Handmade Films themselves? They’ve done a great job in recent months with The Red Shoes, Black Narcissus and Black Orpheus, not to mention older upgrades like The Seventh Seal, The Third Man, 8 1/2 and more. Charade, Seven Samurai and Breathless are coming soon! So why not Time Bandits, Withnail, Fear and Loathing or some of the other Criterions that different companies are now releasing on Bluray? I’m of the opinion that Criterion would rather focus their energy on “classier” films that fit better with their art house reputation, and that taking on too many “cult favorites” would dilute their resources and the impact that their higher-end films make when a new Blu-ray hits the market. What do you think? And what are some other Criterion favorites that you see as most urgently in need of conversion to the latest Hi-Def format?