Accident. (12A.)
Directed by Joseph Losey. 1967.
Starring Dirk Bogarde, Stanley Baker, Jacqueline Sassard, Vivien Merchant, Michael York and Delphine Seyrig. Streaming on MUBI.com till May 12th as part of a Joseph Losey season. 104 mins
The accident is a car one - some screeching noise effects offstage while the camera is fixed on the very nice country house of Oxford philosophy don Bogarde over the opening titles – but it could just as well be Of Birth. There's something very aspirational in this study of pained infidelity among academia: why can't I sublimate my sexual longings for a student by matchmaking her with grinning aristocrat York? Why can't I have terse Harold Pinter dialogue to express my inner loathing during long, boozy Sunday get togethers in the country? Why can't I die young in a whiskey-soaked car with an Austrian princess (Sassard) in the passenger seat? It's alright for some, isn't it?
Somewhere along the road, I got the idea that Losey was a Joseph Lousy who'd picked up an inexplicable and undeserved critical reputation, but this is terrific. It's shot in Eastman Colour and the past has never seemed quite so alive. The use of dislocated sound – hearing dialogue that comes from a different part of the scene to what is being shown – is very effective, especially in the scenes between Bogarde and Seyrig. The cast is splendid, especially Stanley Baker dressed up in Harry Palmer raincoat and glasses, and squeezing Pinter's lines for all their worth.
Directed by Joseph Losey. 1967.
Starring Dirk Bogarde, Stanley Baker, Jacqueline Sassard, Vivien Merchant, Michael York and Delphine Seyrig. Streaming on MUBI.com till May 12th as part of a Joseph Losey season. 104 mins
The accident is a car one - some screeching noise effects offstage while the camera is fixed on the very nice country house of Oxford philosophy don Bogarde over the opening titles – but it could just as well be Of Birth. There's something very aspirational in this study of pained infidelity among academia: why can't I sublimate my sexual longings for a student by matchmaking her with grinning aristocrat York? Why can't I have terse Harold Pinter dialogue to express my inner loathing during long, boozy Sunday get togethers in the country? Why can't I die young in a whiskey-soaked car with an Austrian princess (Sassard) in the passenger seat? It's alright for some, isn't it?
Somewhere along the road, I got the idea that Losey was a Joseph Lousy who'd picked up an inexplicable and undeserved critical reputation, but this is terrific. It's shot in Eastman Colour and the past has never seemed quite so alive. The use of dislocated sound – hearing dialogue that comes from a different part of the scene to what is being shown – is very effective, especially in the scenes between Bogarde and Seyrig. The cast is splendid, especially Stanley Baker dressed up in Harry Palmer raincoat and glasses, and squeezing Pinter's lines for all their worth.
