Withnail and ISometimes to find yourself, you need to lose your grip on your false totems of security and creature comforts--be they civilization, friendships of convenience...or even surrogates like drugs and alcohol. Withnail and I is the story of two young, unemployed actors from London--Withnail (Richard E. Grant) and "I" (Paul McGann), called "Marwood" in the published screenplay. The two men spend their days at the tail end of a long and wild bender, and come to the conclusion that to "rejuvenate", they must take to the country for respite. But these two discover they are ill-prepared for the realities of their "holiday my mistake".
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Withnail and I is a black comedy, where the two fellows spend nearly the entirety of the film in a state of drug and alcohol-fueled dementia by degrees, their escapades through the finale of the 1960s one of reckless liver destruction. Marwood is riddled with anxiety, and moments of his narration revealing a deeper sense that he is on the verge of an epiphany, one that the life he has lived thus far cannot be sustained. Withnail, on the other hand, is manic and sardonic, as well as being desperately self-conscious and resentful that he cannot find work. It is evident that Withnail is passionate about acting, but his pride and sense of entitlement have no doubt been impediments for him...not to mention his disdain for doing actual work or finding a job, content to run amok in a state of perpetual inebriation. Both Withnail and Marwood enable one another for much of the film, whether intentional or not. The film doesn't so much moralize about the dangers of alcohol and drug abuse, and yet for all of its absurd comedy and the raucous antics the duo engage in as a result, there is a sense that these two are more an object of pity, their lives out of control and only some drastic act to reverse their fortunes will save them from an early end. Although on the verge of thirty, both Withnail and Marwood are essentially overgrown boys incapable of fending for themselves. Their apartment is a disheveled mess, with mold-covered dishes piling up and rodents scurrying about, empty bottles of all sorts of spirits adorning the abode. When they are allowed to stay at the cabin in the country belonging to Withnail's rich uncle, Monty (Richard Griffiths), they comically smash apart a chair for firewood and have an ill-fated experience trying to cook a chicken by standing it upright in the oven. If one were to ignore the copious amount of drugs the pair indulge in, one would think that these two ostensible actors were actually insane. It's like Danny (Ralph Brown)--their drug dealer who makes house calls--says, "you take a drug, you tell your brain one thing...take another, you tell it something else". What all these drugs have done is begun a cacophonous shouting match in their brains, making them do absurd (and sometimes dangerous) things; Marwood drinks his instant coffee from a bowl with a spoon, and Withnail consumes lighter fluid to get high. Unsurprisingly, the two comment with fear in their voices about how their body is "going wrong", from Marwood's thumbs to Withnail's head. It's actually a fortunate thing that Marwood promotes the idea of a holiday, as unprepared as they are for it--it is a chance to psychologically "detox", giving the opportunity for reflection and reassessment for their priorities.
Withnail and I was a breakthrough role for Richard E. Grant, which is ironic considering his character, Withnail, suffers from the unlikely fate that he will never reach his full potential, instead spiraling ever downward into self-absorption. Withnail get some of the most stunningly absurd and powerfully quotable lines of dialogue--stuff that is so crazy and paranoid, so nutty that it sticks with you. Lines spoken with the utmost seriousness like, "We want the finest wines available to humanity. And we want them here, and we want them now!", as he and Marwood invade a quaint little tea shop for cake and drinks. Although the relationship between Withnail and Marwood seems purely platonic, Uncle Monty is clearly a homosexual, and not so coyly comes on to Marwood when he crashes their vacation in the country with escalating aggressiveness, much to the actor's discomfort. At one point, Monty--a former self-proclaimed thespian--recites lines from "Hamlet", expressing his disappointment that he would never play "the Dane" on the stage. This is revisited at the conclusion of Withnail and I, when Withnail, now abandoned by Marwood who has moved on to seriously pursue his career as an actor, recites the famous "what a piece of work is a man" soliloquy from the same play with great passion and sincerity. By the conclusion, it is clear that Marwood understands that just as the era of free love has ended, the time has come for him to put aside childish things, be they irresponsible binge drinking with his Falstaff-esque boon companion, or committing to a career and risking failure, cutting his hair short and joining the establishment. Maybe one can never really know if the two had not been forced to try to fend for themselves--such as it was--during their proverbial "Road to Damascus", whether Marwood would really have had the determination to turn his life around or whether he would continue to circle the drain already dragging Withnail down. Maybe it was a wake-up call for Marwood, seeing in Withnail someone who was more comfortable using him as a means to continue in the blurry lifestyle to which he had become accustomed, even if Marwood's expense at times. Withnail seemed all too ready to make a "tactical choice" to insinuate that Marwood was also a homosexual in order to secure the cabin, gambling that the old man wouldn't come up to the cottage to make advances on Marwood--one of many miscalculations by the neurotic lush. In a way, Marwood's exodus could also be inferred to be an attempt to remove himself as an enabler from Withnail's life, trying to push his friend into making something better for himself instead of continuing to drown his sorrows with a sympathy chaser to justify his weaknesses. Even the best of friends--or worst of enemies, and sometimes there is small difference--need to part ways to grow, even when this means growing apart; such is the case with Withnail and Marwood.
Recommended for: Fans of a comical cult movie about the Sixties in London (and outside it), through the filters of wild drunken binges and the madness which follows. I've heard there is actually a drinking game tied to this film, prompting viewers to try to keep up with the pair's indulgences...a recipe for disaster if I ever heard one.
Withnail and I was a breakthrough role for Richard E. Grant, which is ironic considering his character, Withnail, suffers from the unlikely fate that he will never reach his full potential, instead spiraling ever downward into self-absorption. Withnail get some of the most stunningly absurd and powerfully quotable lines of dialogue--stuff that is so crazy and paranoid, so nutty that it sticks with you. Lines spoken with the utmost seriousness like, "We want the finest wines available to humanity. And we want them here, and we want them now!", as he and Marwood invade a quaint little tea shop for cake and drinks. Although the relationship between Withnail and Marwood seems purely platonic, Uncle Monty is clearly a homosexual, and not so coyly comes on to Marwood when he crashes their vacation in the country with escalating aggressiveness, much to the actor's discomfort. At one point, Monty--a former self-proclaimed thespian--recites lines from "Hamlet", expressing his disappointment that he would never play "the Dane" on the stage. This is revisited at the conclusion of Withnail and I, when Withnail, now abandoned by Marwood who has moved on to seriously pursue his career as an actor, recites the famous "what a piece of work is a man" soliloquy from the same play with great passion and sincerity. By the conclusion, it is clear that Marwood understands that just as the era of free love has ended, the time has come for him to put aside childish things, be they irresponsible binge drinking with his Falstaff-esque boon companion, or committing to a career and risking failure, cutting his hair short and joining the establishment. Maybe one can never really know if the two had not been forced to try to fend for themselves--such as it was--during their proverbial "Road to Damascus", whether Marwood would really have had the determination to turn his life around or whether he would continue to circle the drain already dragging Withnail down. Maybe it was a wake-up call for Marwood, seeing in Withnail someone who was more comfortable using him as a means to continue in the blurry lifestyle to which he had become accustomed, even if Marwood's expense at times. Withnail seemed all too ready to make a "tactical choice" to insinuate that Marwood was also a homosexual in order to secure the cabin, gambling that the old man wouldn't come up to the cottage to make advances on Marwood--one of many miscalculations by the neurotic lush. In a way, Marwood's exodus could also be inferred to be an attempt to remove himself as an enabler from Withnail's life, trying to push his friend into making something better for himself instead of continuing to drown his sorrows with a sympathy chaser to justify his weaknesses. Even the best of friends--or worst of enemies, and sometimes there is small difference--need to part ways to grow, even when this means growing apart; such is the case with Withnail and Marwood.
Recommended for: Fans of a comical cult movie about the Sixties in London (and outside it), through the filters of wild drunken binges and the madness which follows. I've heard there is actually a drinking game tied to this film, prompting viewers to try to keep up with the pair's indulgences...a recipe for disaster if I ever heard one.