I don’t know how much of this might be the result of prejudiced English wankers, but in any case I found the distribution of Welsh cinema to be rather poor. Take for instance the 1992 film Hedd Wyn. Paul Turner’s anti-war biopic was the first (and so far only) full length Welsh language film to be nominated for an Oscar. This likely lead Fox Lorber to acquire the US rights and release a VHS copy of the film through Orion Home Video in the mid 1990s. No further release of this film has ever been issued in the US. The fact that a film that could easily be considered a landmark achievement in Welsh cinema has been left to languish in VHS purgatory, should illustrate what I’m up against here. While there are VHS copies of this film in libraries near where I live, currently I’m not willing to haul a VCR and video monitor into a library just to watch a film, … … not yet anyway.
If you have an interest in Welsh cinema from abroad, it’s probably best to head straight to streaming. Honestly, the lone virtue in streaming lies in its ability to bridge the gaps that exist within traditional distribution methods. One online resource for Welsh cinema is the Vimeo account of Welsh filmmaker Karl Francis. Not long after I discovered his account, did it occur to me that this filmmaker had uploaded his entire filmography to Vimeo and everything on it was completely accessible. Wow!, Now that’s the act of someone who wants people to consume their work. I can think of no better way for me to show my appreciation towards Mr. Francis for his generosity than to critique one of his films.
Also before I get too deep into this film, I just want to state for the record that I am aware that some of the performers here, namely Peter O’Toole and Joely Richardson, are English. However since the majority of the cast were Welsh, I’m going to classify this film as being more Welsh than anything else. With this potential issue out of the way, I would like to pose a couple of questions for anyone who might contemplate watching this. Have you ever got to the end of a film and thought ‘What the hell did I just watch’? Furthermore have you ever got to the end of a film and thought ‘Wow!, that aged poorly’? This film will allow one to emphatically answer ‘yes’ to both questions. I’m not quite sure where to start with this one.
I suppose the acting was good, although Paul Rhys as the protagonist, Anthony Raine, offered the most bland and trite performance among the cast. To be fair though, the character of Anthony was designed to act as the rational, sensible and dramatic center for the film and it’d be difficult for most actors in this role to stand out against the more comedic parts. If anything Rhys displayed a wonderfully gentle and cautious touch in the scene where Anthony first suggested the notion of marriage to Rhiannon. However Rhys’s efforts at dramatic gravitas were weak as seen when he attempted to pay a schilling to a toll gate operator or when he got irritated at Rhiannon following an encounter with Rhodri. There was a distinct rigidity in Rhys’s performance and his attempts to inject some emotion in the film often felt feigned. At times Rhys failed to make one forget that he was performing scripted content. Joely Richardson in the role of the obligatory main character love interest was at least better in this capacity and performed her part with a great deal of personality and spirit. It was interesting to consider how much warmth and sarcastic charm there was in Richardson’s portrayal given that she assuredly balanced this with a certain prim elegance. Richardson stood out by playing the only character that offered the film a true sense of sophistication and refinement. Despite Richardson’s effort to class up the joint, the rest of the supporting cast conformed to the film’s ambitions as a rough and tumble, tawdry comedy.
Sue Roderick in the role of Sarah Hughes performed her material with such a fierce confidence and assertive energy that it was hard not to enjoy the character. In her first major scene it was quite striking how firmly she walked towards the constable who greeted her. In addition to this her comedic timing in how swiftly she assaulted multiple characters with a kettle was perfect. Her skill for slapstick humour was on full display in this scene. Roderick though didn’t get much screen time in the latter half of the film where her talent was sadly underused. Dafydd Hywel brought a rowdy, yet delightfully gregarious charm to the film in the role of Rhodri Hughes. In the first scene that featured Anthony and Rhodri one can see the difference in how much personality Hywel exuded in his performance. Hywel also shined in what was perhaps the film’s most memorable scene, one where Rhodri sliced off his right trigger finger and then engaged in a raucous, perverse laughter at Captain Marsden’s ignorance to the fact that he was left handed. The sheer lunacy of such a outré act and reaction made the film compelling and certainly one that stood apart from other cinematic ventures into the Victorian Age.
Such a scene of course felt completely in step with the film’s desire to be a raunchy, vulgar comedy. And let me be perfectly clear here, there was content in this film that would feel right at home in a Vince Offer film. Among the low-lights was a shot of a young lad who urinated in one of Rhodri’s boots, a scene that was accompanied by sounds of flatulence, as well as numerous crude and overt sex jokes. Granted the film’s complete lack of restraint, tact or conscious did strangely work in its favor giving it some modest charm. But even if the film worked as a comedy, it was still an absolutely terrible drama.
The narrative was poorly developed and completely lacking in originality. What one encountered here was essentially the Victorian Welsh version of the age-old ‘slobs vs snobs’ trope, with the standard romantic subplot on the side. The plotting was also insipid. The grand idea to eliminate the toll gates was simply to have the townsfolk commit property damage while in disguise. It was not exactly a highly inventive or elaborate plan. The ending was also incredibly predictable. Believe it or not, the low class ruffians succeeded in getting the oppressive toll gates removed and our hero protagonist secured his desired courtship. I know, shocking stuff.
Unfortunately the ‘disguise’ portion of the plot was where the film dug for itself a massive hole. When destroying the toll gates the male members of the community dressed up in women’s clothing, which all by itself wasn’t that troubling. But to further shield their identity they covered their faces with black paint, with the end result looking awkwardly like blackface. To me there is no amount of rationalization that can overcome the optics of how easily disturbing and cringeworthy this looked. Furthermore one has to consider who these characters were. Generally they lived in squalor, they were uneducated, some of them were illiterate, they appeared as dirty, poor, and ill-mannered people. The film was so thorough in establishing the inferiority of the common townsfolk in this society, that any thematic significance to their ‘war paint’ made the notion of implicit racism unavoidable.
Granted the film’s portrayal of wealth and privilege weren’t exactly flattering either. Peter O’Toole was so immensely dedicated to playing a corrupt, drunken and debauched magistrate, that there was no part of his performance that wasn’t comically insane. His line deliveries were often absolutely ridiculous and yet genuinely funny. This was especially true of the one exchange where O’Toole got indignant in refuting notions of his character’s sobriety and that of his cat. The performance was so convincing that one might contemplate whether or not O’Toole was actually sloshed during the production of the film, but either way it was an enjoyable performance. In addition to this the buffoonish nature of Captain Marsden was enhanced by Simon Dormandy’s high-pitched voice, exaggerated physical reactions and unhinged petulance. I really enjoyed his performance of a line near the end of the film in which he exclaimed “... I just want to kill somebody”. Dormandy’s delivery contained an interesting mix of both psychotic desire and infantile pleading to the point where it had real camp value. I could appreciate his talent in achieving these qualities and trust me this was a line that I couldn’t get out of my head in the days after I first watched this film. Dormandy’s childish whimpering in defeat also left a lasting impression. He crafted an excellent villain to root against. If there was anything negative to say about either performance is that they were a bit over the top and cartoonish to the degree where they seemed too absurd even for a farce.
As for the cinematography I couldn’t help but notice the image quality in the opening scenes which had an antiquated feel that made the film look about 20 years older than it actually was. The pace was also a bit slow in the beginning half, especially during the horse riding and chase sequences. Generally though the staging, the mise-en-scène, the framing, the camerawork was executed to a professional standard and offered little to complain about. Granted it wasn’t a particularly creative effort given the heavy use of banal tactics like shot/ reverse shot. Still small glimpses of its artfulness would occasionally appear in the exposition. For instance I liked the construction of the shot of Sarah’s children at the toll gate which was quite striking and which I thought perfectly captured their poverty. Another good moment was the sequence of Anthony and Rhodri as they left the chapel which started out as an interesting establishing shot, but yet maintained its focus until they walked close enough to the camera to achieve an intimacy that properly captured their acting. The film often displayed a great balance between its distant and more intimate framed shots, with the former often capturing the Welsh countryside. The film though was more distinguished in its more intimate imagery. One could see this in the shot of Sarah Hughes as she stared off into the distance at Anthony’s carriage or in the scene of Rhodri at the bar which did an excellent job of capturing how intensely Hywel performed the scene where his character’s finger got sliced off.
Still though there wasn’t enough quality in how the film was shot that could overcome the deficiencies in its story or plotting. The latter elements made it difficult to perceive the film as anything other than a cheesy, paint-by-numbers drama with an absurdist comedic bent. And that’s not even getting into the more troubling aspects of the film. Rebecca’s Daughters is a film whose obscurity does not surprise me at all. It’s perhaps only notable as one of the more darker satires of Victorian decadence that one might find in a film.