The Importance of Being Earnest (1952)
Directed by Anthony Asquith

Film Review

The first, and arguably finest, screen adaptation of Oscar Wilde's satirical masterpiece has the distinction of being directed by Anthony Asquith, son of the British Prime Minister Herbert Asquith who, whilst serving as Home Secretary, prosecuted Wilde for immorality.  Wilde would probably have appreciated the irony, particularly as Asquith does such a good job of transposing his play from stage to the big screen.   Asquith was particularly adept at reworking stage plays for cinema and achieved equally impressive results with his earlier adaptations of George Bernard Shaw's Pygmalion (1938) and Terence Rattigan's The Winslow Boy (1948).

One of the criticisms that have been made about this film is its flagrant theatricality.  Not only do the sets appear artificial, but there is no fancy camerawork and no real attempt to break away from the structure of Wilde's original play (apart from a few small tweaks to simplify the narrative).  Asquith even goes so far as to emphasise the theatrical nature of the piece by opening the film with a shot of a box at the theatre.  This criticism might have some validity were it not for the fact that the entire substance of the film lies in its text.  Cinematic artifice would merely distract the spectator from Wilde's unfaltering wit and his marvellous use of language.  Here, sincerity, not style, is the vital thing, and sincerity is achieved by not departing too far from the source material.

One of the reasons why this production of The Importance of Being Earnest is so highly regarded is its sublime casting.  Yes, Michael Redgrave and Michael Denison are probably a little too long in the tooth to play the juvenile bachelor, but their performances are a delight, each turning in an exquisite demolition job on the façade of upper class gentility.  Just as engaging are their co-stars, Dorothy Tutin (in her film debut) and the velvet-voiced Joan Greenwood.   Margaret Rutherford is an inspired choice for the role of the overwrought and ever-so-slightly dotty Miss Prism (she had previously played Lady Bracknell in the 1946 BBC television adaptation).

As magnificent as these five great performers are in this film, the star of the show is inevitably Edith Evans.  Evans's interpretation of Lady Bracknell is nothing less than iconic, providing an almost insurmountable obstacle to anyone who has ever since been paid to utter the line: "To lose one parent, Mr. Worthing, may be regarded as a misfortune. To lose both looks like carelessness."  Evans had made the part her own when she first played it on stage and here she gives the definitive performance.  She invests every last syllable of her character's dialogue with the acid-tipped scorn and unintentional self-mockery which the author intended, and her outraged multiple octave rendering of "A handbag!" is legendary (even if the line is immaterial).

With its sparkling performances, unfussy direction and unflagging anti-bourgeois hilarity, this version of The Importance of Being Earnest is probably the best you will ever see.  To misquote Wilde, more than half of modern culture depends on what one shouldn't watch at the movies.  This is one movie you definitely can watch and enjoy, without breaching the delicate rules of social etiquette, although you may end up spending the rest of your life quoting Oscar Wilde.  Ding dong.  "Ah, that must be Aunt Augusta.  Only relatives or creditors ever ring in that Wagnerian manner."  Highly infectious.

Film Synopsis

Algernon Moncrieff is surprised when he discovers that his dear friend, Mr Worthing, is apparently leading a double life.  Calling himself Ernest whenever he is in London, Worthing only uses his real name, Jack, when he is at his home in the country.  He invented a brother named Ernest so that he would have an excuse for his frequent visits to London.  Worthing is in love with Gwendolen Fairfax and intends to marry her, but first he must win the approval of her domineering mother, Lady Bracknell, who happens to be Algernon's aunt.  Worthing makes a singularly bad impression on Lady Bracknell, who is aghast when she learns that her prospective son-in-law was found as a baby in a handbag in the cloak room at Victoria train station.  She cannot possibly give her consent to a marriage until Mr Worthing has produced at least one parent.  To add to his woes, Worthing then learns that his beloved Gwendolen can only ever marry a man whose name is Ernest.  Jack will not suffice.  In the mean time, Algernon is intrigued when he learns that his friend has a young ward named Cecily and decides to pay her a visit, masquerading as Worthing's fictitious brother Ernest.  Cecily has long been enamoured of Ernest, thanks to her guardian's colourful account of him, and Algernon has no difficulty winning her affections.  But, like Gwendolen, Cecily has an Ernest fixation and can only marry a man of that name; the prospect of her becoming the wife of someone named Algernon is too hideous to contemplate.  If Jack and Algie are to win the women they love they must first learn the importance of being earnest...