I’m not so well-versed in the films of the late great Dame Glenda Jackson as I ought to be, but A Touch of Class, for which she won her second Academy Award, is a really good showcase of just what made her such a singular and captivating star in her time. The key is of course right there in the title: Glenda Jackson was the embodiment of class, but not in an old Hollywood way; rather in the kind of sophistication and intelligence, prestige and talent seen today in someone like Cate Blanchett (with whom she shares an iconic role –Queen Elizabeth I). And director Melvin Frank knew exactly what he wanted when he cast her in his romantic comedy about a sustained, complicated affair that evolves into an emotional, dysfunctional relationship.
The script plays remarkably off her distinctly modern eloquence, as it pairs Jackson with George Segal –with whom she has great and tremendously volatile chemistry. She’s Vickie, a divorcee with two children, and he’s Steve, a married American businessman living in London. They meet in a cab, have a fairly immediate sexual tension, and are soon arranging a quick Spanish vacation in which to consummate their affair. But several things get in the way, from Steve’s wife trying to tag along, to the impediments of keeping up appearances, to just a general clash in personalities –stemming at least in some way from their divergent cultural identities. And yet there’s an underpinning romantic attraction to it all that keeps them coming back together.
The premise bears a resemblance to Bernard Slade’s Same Time, Next Year from later in the decade, or even Jackson’s previous Sunday Bloody Sunday, in which she also plays a divorcee engaged in a strange affair. In the aftermath of the 1960s free love era, it seems studios were more interested in romantic movies that took a sympathetic view of adulterers. Yet A Touch of Class doesn’t really broach the topic from a conventional place of depression, dismay, or boredom. Even as a divorced mother of two, Vickie’s life doesn’t seem particularly unsatisfying before Steve enters it. There’s no void to fill, it’s pure impulse and attraction. The fact that he’s married doesn’t seem to be an issue for her, it certainly isn’t an issue for him. There’s a light-hearted, casual air to the way they engage in the affair, even as they fight and exchange witty retorts.
It’s part and parcel with the absurd circumstances they end up in, not only involving Steve’s wife Gloria (Hildegarde Neil) complicating matters by nearly joining Steve’s holiday (he pretends he’s going on vacation with his mother), but his ostentatious movie producer friend Walter (Paul Sorvino), taking the same excursion–collectively the comic relief sidekicks to this coupling. There is of course the matter of the sneaking around: a great sequence where, while Steve is engaged with Walter at the airport, Vickie has to pretend to be merely another passenger standing around rather than the reason Steve booked this flight. Once in Spain, their first attempt at a sexual tryst goes poorly as they argue over preferred sides of the bed and then Steve throws his back out. And a classic farce occurs during a period of animosity between the lovers where Vickie goes out with a new American friend Patty (K. Callen), only to discover she is married to Walter who has brought along Steve to dinner. Yet for these moments of silliness, the film never goes broad in its humour –in fact it’s those incompatibilities, the very reason Steve and Vickie’s romance is doomed beyond any ethical dubiousness in it, that is the movie’s charm.
Jackson and Segal have really good chemistry, so much so they were reunited six years later in the far less acclaimed Lost and Found. Here at least, the script provides them a smart and easy rhythm that is quite enjoyable to watch. That very Benedick and Beatrice dynamic where their arguments mask attraction comes across very well, as does their mixture of enthusiasm and trepidation with the situation. I feel it ought to be said though that Jackson does most of the heavy lifting here. Segal isn’t bad, but Frank had originally envisioned the part with Cary Grant in mind, and Segal –try as he might- is no Cary Grant. He doesn’t have that instant smoothness and likeability that could sell even the most callous remarks, his style is very plain and uninteresting, his charisma tempered. As a result, I think he comes off more obnoxious than he’s meant, a bit of an irritating entitled tourist at times, even in London where he is a resident. He’s funny, but not often smart -the oblivious disrespect of Vickie once the romance turns serious looking especially unattractive in Segal’s hands. Jackson on the other hand is a delight through even her most idiosyncratic moments. She has a command of the camera, an exceptional grasp of nuance, and is attractively as debonair as they come. Playing the mistress, she carries a more poignant weight of loneliness than Segal -even her kids are out of the picture for much of the film, and yet she never is weak of spirit. It’s not all that unlike her performance in Sunday Bloody Sunday in fact, though here she seems to have more fun. Her sides of the arguments and her expression of sexuality are much sharper, much bolder; and I appreciate her capacity to relate that seamlessly along with the emotional depth.
For as thrilling as the stuff in Spain is, the comedy that this relationship provokes -down to Steve’s insecurity being so pronounced that he competes with a kid in a game of golf- it’s when they return to London that Frank gets into some more compelling material regarding the affair -namely in the fact it continues. The pair rent a flat, they go out publicly in circles no one could recognize them in; they make changes to their lives to accommodate one another. What was meant to be a quick fling off of a base attraction has turned into something more serious. Emotional complexity creeps in, and a whole host of discretionary issues that the movie handles with appropriate severity. What happens as a result of this is the relationship becomes settled, even mundane –but in a way that’s not entirely unwelcome for both parties, at least on some level psychologically. This isn’t a relationship built around sex, and Steve and Vickie actually crave those freedoms of ordinary, inauspicious romance. Steve wants to maintain both worlds, which he finds increasingly difficult. Vickie, more understandably, wants something reliable –and to not constantly have to work around Steve’s other commitments. The arrangement is incredibly unfair to her, and the movie does well to understand this –emphasizing those moments when her gestures are overlooked or ignored by Steve’s other priorities. While Steve always has somebody around to distract from the situation, Vickie is often framed in isolation –looking on at the theatre while Steve and his wife watch from a few rows down. You wonder if she’ll break the secret, force Steve to confront the affair openly and his own feelings for her trumping those for his wife. But she doesn’t, they keep their frustrations to themselves –and it’s in the light of one eruption that Steve compares them to an old married couple.
That comment crystallises their relationship, one that has in a short period of time been a microcosm of a long-term matrimony. They had their first attraction, period of adjustment, acquiescence to each other, and now the spark is lost. Steve writes a letter to break up, and ever the idiot realizing too late what he had, regrets it immediately. It’s just as well though, Vickie deserves to recover. And the wound of Steve’s heartbreak can be tempered by having no consequences to deal with.
He really comes off as the asshole ultimately, and that’s appropriate; but the film lays out well how the relationship wouldn’t have lasted regardless. Both wanted more out of it, but didn’t entirely know it until it was too late to make a difference. They let an affair become a relationship, and just as Walter said, that sort of thing is a bad idea. And yet it is still romantic. I get why the movie worked so well in 1973, why audiences gravitated to this mesh of comedy and bittersweet realism –an honest illustration of how relationships can form and grow and fail in the modern age. It still has some power in that respect, diluted though it may be by several dated aspects of the language and sexual politics. It is Glenda Jackson though who remains sublime, this movie giving her a thoroughly captivating, dramatically empathetic showcase. The kind to remember in the wake of her passing. A performer (and later politician) who brought a touch of class to every facet of her life and work.
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