Make ‘Em Laugh

Great Britain might be well known for its kitchen sink dramas, but two new films offer a reminder that our greatest export might in fact be the underdog comedy. From Passport to Pimlico to The Phantom of the Open, Nathaniel Ashley reminds us why there’s actually plenty to laugh about.

They say that laughter is the best medicine and, in Great Britain, there’s no clearer demonstration of that than the underdog comedy. Born out of a desire for light-hearted escapism after World War Two, the genre has often reemerged during times of national crisis. Though it may have largely fallen out of fashion in recent years, the release of both The Duke and The Phantom of the Open this year suggest the underdog comedy may be in for a much-needed revival.

The first British film in the genre emerged from the bombed-out ruins of post-war London. Led by the now iconic Ealing Studios, these films repeatedly pitted working- and middle-class underdogs against the bureaucratic institutions that sought to control them. From 1949 to 1955, Ealing churned out a production line of instant classics, beginning with 1949’s Whiskey Galore, following the inhabitants of a small Scottish island’s attempts to dodge the wartime prohibition on whiskey. Hit after hit followed, including Passport to Pimlico and Kindhearts and Coronets in the same year, followed by The Ladykillers in 1955.

These films won plaudits for their distinctive humour, often laced with black comedy, and their lovable, eccentric underdogs. Yet it would be wrong to dismiss Ealing’s movies as populist entertainment – many hid barbed social commentaries beneath jovial smiles. The deliciously dark Kind Hearts and Coronets sees the poor, disowned child of a wealthy family bumping off his snooty relatives, one by one, in pursuit of their inheritance. Even more obviously, 1951’s The Man in the White Suit follows an idealistic scientist whose potentially world-changing invention is undermined by greedy corporations. Not every production was explicitly about class or power – The Ladykillers is a more straightforward crime caper about a gang of criminals attempting to murder their elderly landlord – but they all delighted in subverting expectations.

However, nothing lasts forever. As the 1950s wore on, the rise of the British New Wave, pioneered by filmmakers including Karel Reisz and Lindsay Anderson, led to the growth of the social realist movement, otherwise known as the kitchen sink drama. Like the Ealing comedies that had come before, these films explored what it was like to be powerless in contemporary Britain, but they found nothing to laugh about. They tended towards grim realism, telling tales of angry young men railing against the state of the world. 

Then came the Swinging Sixties, when British culture took over the Western world. Following in the explosive footsteps of James Bond, wave after wave of imitators revelled in an aesthetic of pleasure and excess. The loveable underdog was quickly replaced by suave, smartly dressed super-spies and rock stars who travelled the world in search of adventure, living out fantasies most audiences could only dream of. 

In those heady days, the quaint comedies of the 1940s and 1950s seemed a world away. Admittedly, there were occasional resurgences of Ealing-style productions, often in response to dire economic downturns. In the late 1970s, Bruce Forsythe’s films occupied a similar territory, most obviously in 1979’s That Sinking Feeling, which followed a group of young Glaswegian friends who turn to stealing kitchen sinks to make a living. Later, The Full Monty, a comedy about a group of unemployed steelworkers who decide to become strippers, proved so popular in 1997 that it was nominated for the Academy Award for Best Picture.

Yet these were anomalies in the wider national film landscape. Nowadays, British cinema seems to be stuck in a binary state. On the one hand, big budget blockbusters such as No Time To Die earn huge amounts of money across the globe but struggle to achieve social or political relevance. On the other hand, sombre dramas like After Love, a poignant critique of race and gender which won Joanna Scanlan a BAFTA for Best Actress, gain critical praise but tend to get lost at the box office.

Something is missing. The underdog comedy offers a middle ground, one that is uniquely British but still appeals to audiences around the world. At its best, it can highlight the snobbery, prejudices and bureaucracy still rife in British society, without coming off as self-righteous or preachy. Where kitchen sink dramas often reach people who are already critically or politically minded, comedies are able to smuggle social commentary to mass audiences through otherwise charming, light-hearted crowd-pleasers.

The Duke reached audiences in February , which tells the true story of 60-year old pensioner Kempton Bunton, who was put on trial for stealing a priceless painting from The National Gallery. Directed by the late Roger Michell, The Duke portrays Bunton as a tireless campaigner determined to make life better for his fellow man. Though it doesn’t shrink away from Bunton’s slightly barmy nature – Michell finds humour in his protagonist’s inability to hold down a job – it remains steadfastly sympathetic to his mission of compassion. It helps that Michell cast Jim Broadbent, possibly the cuddliest actor in Britain, as the lead. Yet the director also deliberately contrasts Bunton’s humanist outlook with the out-of-touch government, who would rather pay £140,000 for an old painting than help its older citizens. Like the Ealing comedies of old, The Duke is a sweet comedy with a surprisingly sharp message about the importance of compassion in the face of uncaring bureaucracy.

Meanwhile, The Phantom of the Open tells another true story starring a celebrated British thespian. With a script by Simon Farnaby, one of the writers behind Horrible Histories and the delightful Paddington 2, the film follows Maurice Flitcroft, a shipyard crane operator who bluffed his way into the most prestigious golf tournament in the country. Flitcroft, played by Mark Rylance, battles against the snobbery of the golfing establishment and his own inexperience. Rylance gives a broadly slapstick performance, but he never mistakes Flitcroft’s lack of shame for stupidity. Nor does director Craig Roberts ignore the impact of the massive layoffs that hit Britain in the late 20th century, which left Flitcroft and his family living in a caravan, without a permanent place to call home. As a result, The Phantom of the Open is a heartfelt and charming comedy that still manages to address potent themes of class and family, all through a uniquely British lens.

Both films feature eccentric, working-class protagonists who refuse to let anyone tell them what they should think or how they should behave. Though the underdog comedy may be unabashedly silly and sentimental, that doesn’t make it any less important. If anything, its ability to find laughter and kindness in the face of hardship is refreshing. The return of the British underdog comedy offers a potent, homegrown antidote to the uncertainty and fears of our times.

The Phantom of the Open and The Duke are in UK cinemas now.

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