If you're American or British, you've probably watched some French classics, among them acclaimed comedies like "The Visitors", "Amelie" or "Dinner For Schmucks" but are you familiar with "The Charlots" or "The Seventh Company"?
These are staples of popular comedy whose appeal never crossed frontiers because of the very literalness of their popularity. So you might enjoy foreign movies from France, Sweden, Japan or Iceland and call yourself a legitimate cinephile: yet there's always an invisible barrier that can't be crossed and would keep many foreign gems in the dark except for the lucky or the perseverant type. I guess I'm one of these happy few because I just discovered the "Carry On" series and here's how it happened.
Since the beginning of the year, I've been regularly watching movies from the British Film Institute Top 100 and I was looking for one with a shorter runtime, "Carry On... Up the Khyber" had 88 minutes and after three black-and-white "kitchen-sink" dramas, I needed laughs, colors and goofiness. The opening credits convinced me that I'd made the right choice and this is my best comedic discovery since Woody Allen's "What's New Tiger Lily?". The film is outrageously funny and even if I didn't get more than half the references, I take pride for having never gone through one half-minute without a good chuckle at the very worst.
And so... what a jolly good journey in that Khyber Pass, a remote British camp in the Indian mountainside with not-so friendly neighbors from Kalabar, who could pass as Indians, Afghans or Arabs but you if you expect accuracy anywhere, I'd recommend the film's cousin "Zulu" with Michael Caine. The head governor of the province is Sir Sidney Ruff-Diamond (Sidney James), assisted by Captain Keene (Roy Castle) and Major Shorthouse (Julian Holloway) and guarding the Pass, there's the glorious Third Foot & Mouth Regiment lead by Sergeant MacNutt (Terry Scott) who notices the shameful secret of cowardly Private James Widdle (Charles Hawtrey) contradicting the very legend of the 'Devils in Skirts' regarding what they have beneath their kilts or as a matter of fact, what they don't.
Those were the British Empire glory days and it's very fitting that the military legend of the Empire where the sun never set involved the place where the moon didn't shine. And in the very context of the film, it also tells you what kind of humor it aims: right below the kilt... making it -one year before these TV shows' releases- the spiritual predecessor of "The Benny Hill Show" and "Monty Python's Flying Circus". Now, let's move back to the plot (literally).
One of the Karaban army generals Bungdit Din (the giant Bernard Bresslaw) discovers what lies under an unconscious Widdle's kilt and brings the exhibit (no pun intended) to the Khasi of Kalabar (Kenneth Williams) who is enjoying a game of polo with his daughter Princess Jelhi (Angela Douglas) and is exchanging diplomatic smiles with the governor and Lady Ruff-Diamond (Joan Sims). It's interesting that the Khasi has servants doing the sex for him and the governor and his wife are sexually frustrated so the whole exchange of gazes and salutes in pure deliberate camp still hits that right note as it can tell you what libidinous thoughts hide behind the character's minds. At that point of the film, I decided to read a little trivia and realized that "Carry On", the film I was watching was the 16th and arguably the best entry (hence its BFI inclusion) of a series that spanned more movies than James Bond. And I had never heard of it. That made the discovery all the more thrilling for I knew I was getting educated into something exclusively British.
Resuming my viewing, I got myself transported from one gag to another, from a hilarious under-the-kilt inspection to a visit incognito to Khasi's harem, the film uses every possible gags, not too much slapsticks, a lot of double entendres and a great deal of naughty naughty humor, the kind of humor where the wrong of a woman going ti another man (Lady Joan to the Khasi) is righted by many women sent to the governor who (as you might guess it) isn't too displeased for these tiffin session. This is a film where a religious man saves women from heresy by making love to them, he's Brother Belcher (Butterworth). This is a film where a girl asks which her mother is and her father says: "Foolish child! How many times do I have to tell you? She with the emerald eyes and hair of copper... and number thirty-two stamped on her back."
The film wasn't shot on location but in Pinewood studios, it didn't embarrass itself with historical accuracy, it doesn't mock Indian traditions but a certain Kiplingesque view of it, it doesn't mock cultural gaps but demonstrate that despite them, commanders from each side are enjoying the comfort of their cushy jobs and their little privileges and benefits in kind (one that goes with the term 'tiffin'). It still decides to remain British through a riveting climactic dinner scene that gives its full sense to the "stiff upper lip" spirit (an obligatory trope in any British war film) with the orchestra playing while the governor's place is being bombarded and when a fakir's severed head is served on a plate and a few bricks fall on the table, these inconveniences only meet downplayed remarks, the best one belonging to Joan Sims "I'm a little plastered".
There's something so refreshing in that era where anything could be sources of laugh. Such a film would be impossible... except maybe for the kilt gag, because... well, who's the joke's on?
These are staples of popular comedy whose appeal never crossed frontiers because of the very literalness of their popularity. So you might enjoy foreign movies from France, Sweden, Japan or Iceland and call yourself a legitimate cinephile: yet there's always an invisible barrier that can't be crossed and would keep many foreign gems in the dark except for the lucky or the perseverant type. I guess I'm one of these happy few because I just discovered the "Carry On" series and here's how it happened.
Since the beginning of the year, I've been regularly watching movies from the British Film Institute Top 100 and I was looking for one with a shorter runtime, "Carry On... Up the Khyber" had 88 minutes and after three black-and-white "kitchen-sink" dramas, I needed laughs, colors and goofiness. The opening credits convinced me that I'd made the right choice and this is my best comedic discovery since Woody Allen's "What's New Tiger Lily?". The film is outrageously funny and even if I didn't get more than half the references, I take pride for having never gone through one half-minute without a good chuckle at the very worst.
And so... what a jolly good journey in that Khyber Pass, a remote British camp in the Indian mountainside with not-so friendly neighbors from Kalabar, who could pass as Indians, Afghans or Arabs but you if you expect accuracy anywhere, I'd recommend the film's cousin "Zulu" with Michael Caine. The head governor of the province is Sir Sidney Ruff-Diamond (Sidney James), assisted by Captain Keene (Roy Castle) and Major Shorthouse (Julian Holloway) and guarding the Pass, there's the glorious Third Foot & Mouth Regiment lead by Sergeant MacNutt (Terry Scott) who notices the shameful secret of cowardly Private James Widdle (Charles Hawtrey) contradicting the very legend of the 'Devils in Skirts' regarding what they have beneath their kilts or as a matter of fact, what they don't.
Those were the British Empire glory days and it's very fitting that the military legend of the Empire where the sun never set involved the place where the moon didn't shine. And in the very context of the film, it also tells you what kind of humor it aims: right below the kilt... making it -one year before these TV shows' releases- the spiritual predecessor of "The Benny Hill Show" and "Monty Python's Flying Circus". Now, let's move back to the plot (literally).
One of the Karaban army generals Bungdit Din (the giant Bernard Bresslaw) discovers what lies under an unconscious Widdle's kilt and brings the exhibit (no pun intended) to the Khasi of Kalabar (Kenneth Williams) who is enjoying a game of polo with his daughter Princess Jelhi (Angela Douglas) and is exchanging diplomatic smiles with the governor and Lady Ruff-Diamond (Joan Sims). It's interesting that the Khasi has servants doing the sex for him and the governor and his wife are sexually frustrated so the whole exchange of gazes and salutes in pure deliberate camp still hits that right note as it can tell you what libidinous thoughts hide behind the character's minds. At that point of the film, I decided to read a little trivia and realized that "Carry On", the film I was watching was the 16th and arguably the best entry (hence its BFI inclusion) of a series that spanned more movies than James Bond. And I had never heard of it. That made the discovery all the more thrilling for I knew I was getting educated into something exclusively British.
Resuming my viewing, I got myself transported from one gag to another, from a hilarious under-the-kilt inspection to a visit incognito to Khasi's harem, the film uses every possible gags, not too much slapsticks, a lot of double entendres and a great deal of naughty naughty humor, the kind of humor where the wrong of a woman going ti another man (Lady Joan to the Khasi) is righted by many women sent to the governor who (as you might guess it) isn't too displeased for these tiffin session. This is a film where a religious man saves women from heresy by making love to them, he's Brother Belcher (Butterworth). This is a film where a girl asks which her mother is and her father says: "Foolish child! How many times do I have to tell you? She with the emerald eyes and hair of copper... and number thirty-two stamped on her back."
The film wasn't shot on location but in Pinewood studios, it didn't embarrass itself with historical accuracy, it doesn't mock Indian traditions but a certain Kiplingesque view of it, it doesn't mock cultural gaps but demonstrate that despite them, commanders from each side are enjoying the comfort of their cushy jobs and their little privileges and benefits in kind (one that goes with the term 'tiffin'). It still decides to remain British through a riveting climactic dinner scene that gives its full sense to the "stiff upper lip" spirit (an obligatory trope in any British war film) with the orchestra playing while the governor's place is being bombarded and when a fakir's severed head is served on a plate and a few bricks fall on the table, these inconveniences only meet downplayed remarks, the best one belonging to Joan Sims "I'm a little plastered".
There's something so refreshing in that era where anything could be sources of laugh. Such a film would be impossible... except maybe for the kilt gag, because... well, who's the joke's on?