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Withnail & I (1987)

A review by Damian Cannon.
Copyright © Movie Reviews UK 1997
A total one-off, Withnail & I charts the progress of two elegantly wasted, unemployed thespians as they struggle with life, booze and a sink full of dishes. Withnail (Richard E. Grant) and Marwood (Paul McGann) inhabit a wretched, cold and dirty flat somewhere in the back-end of London, waiting (hopefully) for a call from their agents. Nursing an epic hangover, Marwood staggers from his bed and attempts to make breakfast but is repulsed by the new life-forms taking root in the sink. Joined shortly by Withnail, who looks even worse (if that's possible), they make a vain search for alcohol among the devastation, finally settling for a trip to their local pub. The reception at there is as bleak as their prospects; they've just got to get out of London "or something's going to crack". Suddenly inspiration strikes; Withnail has an uncle, Monty (Richard Griffiths), who just happens to have a little cottage in Penrith. They visit Monty, a somewhat eccentric, rich and randy old bugger, who agrees to lend them the key, after some private persuasion by Withnail.

Piling into their decrepit Jag (veteran of many a battle), they set off for the paradise on Earth that is the Lake District. Unfortunately, when they get there the rain is pouring, from a slate-grey sky, onto a cottage without heating, electricity or running water. In a vain attempt to keep life in their battered bodies, Withnail and Marwood resort to burning Monty's wooden furniture in the fire. The next morning the situation just deteriorates -- farmers won't sell them firewood, their wives won't talk to them and a randy bull takes a liking to Marwood. Worst of all, they've run out of booze! Retreating to the only hostelry within ten miles they drown their sorrows in ale, spinning tales to the drunken landlord, before tangling with the local poacher Jake (Michael Elphick). Their sense of paranoia increases out of all proportion when they spot him skulking near the cottage, convinced that he's going to psychotically do away with them.

Luckily (perhaps) it's only Monty, paying a surprise weekend visit, who breaks in at 2am. Like the Three Kings, Monty is a man bearing gifts; principally hampers of food and fine wine from his bountiful cellar. Withnail's uncle enjoys life to the full and partakes of every vice, much to the surprise of Marwood. From one over-sexed bull to another, it looks as though this will be an exciting few days for all concerned -- perhaps London isn't so bad after all?

Understandably, Withnail & I has grown into a cult classic during the decade since its release, although (more surprisingly) it hasn't dated a bit. The performances of Grant and McGann as wasted and depressed substance-abusers are fantastic, a joy to watch and so incredibly pitiful. The tail-end of the Sixties is lovingly recreated, encompassing everything from Hendrix to the Camberwell Carrot (a huge, 6-skin spliff), yet this is a timeless situation for out of work actors. The movie may be a comedy at heart but it's a desperate one, with the laughs born out of frustration, recognition and degenerate self-loathing. However, we can't feel too sorry for Withnail and Marwood; ultimately they've only got themselves to blame.

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