Here’s to us.
Who’s like us?
Damn few.
—’Old Friends’, Merrily We Roll Along, Stephen Sondheim
I recently saw the new production of Stephen Sondheim’s Merrily We Roll Along, now in its last weeks at the Hudson Theatre, and it’s been rattling around in my brain ever since. (Jonathan Groff, Lindsay Mendez and Daniel Radcliffe are outstanding. If you can make it, don’t miss it.) A musical as much about the difficulty in keeping friends as it is about the joy of making them, it got me thinking about some of the on screen friendships that have made an impression on me.
The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp (1943) The story of a 40-year friendship, among other things. Clive Wynn-Candy (Roger Livesey), a British officer on leave from the Boer War, inadvertently causes an international incident in Berlin, which the Germans insist can only be resolved via a duel with a German officer, Theo Kretschmar-Schuldorff (Anton Walbrook). The two men end up forging a bond which withstands the vicissitudes of love and war. Clive is a fundamentally decent man, so oblivious he genuinely believes the Entente won the First World War because “right is might”, and so sincere he doesn’t see why the conflict might change things between him and Theo, even when the latter is a prisoner of war. Theo loves him dearly. Because of their friendship, he’s the first to tell Clive hard truths about a world that’s rapidly changing around them. And because of their friendship, Clive listens.
Baby Face (1933) Lily Powers (Barbara Stanwyck) is trapped working in her father’s speakeasy on the seamier side of town. Only two people show her any kindness: a local cobbler who dispenses Nietzschean philosophy, and Chico (Theresa Harris), her co-worker and best friend. The two women support and defend each other and claw their way to success together. That Lily is white and Chico Black in Depression-era America doesn’t matter to either of them. They couldn’t care less what anyone else thinks.
Becket (1964) As far as King Henry II (Peter O’Toole) is concerned Thomas Becket (Richard Burton) is the perfect friend. He’s intelligent, well-read, has almost as great an appetite for carousing as Henry himself and will take care of pesky things like running the country. When the position of Archbishop of Canterbury falls vacant, naturally Henry appoints Becket—giving him no say in the matter—and expects things to go on as they are. Except now Becket must choose between his dearest friend and his duty to the church. Hell hath no fury like a friend scorned.
Withnail and I (1987) Bruce Robinson’s pitch black cult classic. It’s 1969 and Withnail (Richard E. Grant, in his first film role) and I (Paul McGann) are two unemployed actors living in squalor in Camden Town. (Like the second Mrs. de Winter, we never learn I’s name, though the script refers to him as Marwood.) Withnail is witty, flamboyant, chronically self-destructive and a raging alcoholic. Marwood is slightly saner. Together they career through London and the English countryside, careening from one escapade to the next, many of them of Withnail’s own making. That Robinson’s script was largely autobiographical (he was Marwood) makes the film more outrageous—and more tragic.
The Big Chill (1983) “In a cold world, you need your friends to keep you warm.” The tagline speaks the truth. When one of their number takes his own life, a group of old college friends gather to mourn him and wrestle with how the idealism of youth curdled into the cynicism and compromise of early middle age. The fantastic ensemble includes Jeff Goldblum, William Hurt, Kevin Kline, JoBeth Williams and Glenn Close – all backed by a connoisseur’s soundtrack of 1960s and 1970s pop, R&B and soul.
The Shawshank Redemption (1994) The best Stephen King adaptation bar none. Andy Dufresne (Tim Robbins) arrives at Shawshank State Prison, sentenced to life for killing his wife and her lover, and looks so fragile that fellow inmate Ellis ‘Red’ Redding (Morgan Freeman) doesn’t expect him to last the night without cracking. What follows is one of the most enduring portraits of a friendship in all cinema.
Notting Hill (1999) William Thacker (Hugh Grant) is surrounded by a loyal group of friends (played by an ensemble including Tim McInnerny, Gina McKee and Hugh Bonneville). They’re so warm and easy in each other’s company, they even take the sudden appearance of the world’s most famous film star in their midst almost completely in their stride. When Will makes the biggest mistake of his life, they all dash out into London’s rush hour traffic to help him fix it. Everyone ought to have friends like these.
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