UK/France, 2020
Directed by Philippa Lowthorpe, written by Rebecca Frayn and Gaby Chiappe.
Cast: Keira Knightley, Gugu Mbatha-Raw, Jessie Buckley, Keeley Hawes, Lesley Manville, Rhys Ifans, Greg Kinnear.
Going back to the 1970’s protests against the Miss World beauty competition in London, Misbehaviour is both a political film and a decidedly crowd-pleasing, feel-good romp. With a fine cast – Gugu Mbatha-Raw stealing the show by a mile –, confident direction and a somewhat preachy, but snappy, good-humoured script, it clearly aspires to be a new family favourite, a blend of a history lesson and a bittersweet comedy-drama. (By the way, the word “dramedy” is a verbal equivalent of punching a puppy in the face… just don’t do it.)
In fact, from a certain perspective, Misbehaviour is quite easy to hate. Its journey through the world‘s tidiest of squats, the kindest pack of activists and the roads along the borders of 1970s nostalgia prove to be quite a challenge, all the more so if you find yourself already quite exhausted by the sanitized images of the hippie culture and the parallel and subsequent protest movements in mainstream entertainment. However, the film plays itself straight, making it clear in the first minutes that this would be no Lindsay Anderson, and its stylistic choices, however contrary to my taste, are valid. And, to be fair: if Misbehaviour is pandering, it‘s pandering for a reason.
In the notorious Yes, Prime Minister by Jonathan Lynn and Anthony Jay, there is a scene when the PM is about to record a speech. He is advised to balance the content with the layout: if he plans to say little of interest, he should surround himself with abstract paintings, wear a colourful jacket, play Stravinsky, etc. Should he plan to say something new, bold, perhaps controversial, he should go for traditional landscapes, wear a conservative suit and have his Downing Street DJ roll out some Elgar.
Misbehaviour follows this very tactic. For all its light-heartedness, it has a divisive act in its centre and a clear sense that gender inequality has always been a systemic problem. It says quite clearly that its roots do not rest with Rhys Ifans’ cynical organiser or Greg Kinnear’s narcissistic dinosaur, but the university, the traditions, the TV, the roles and constraints women are taught and forced to reproduce. The activists’ intervention in the final act may seem radical even by today’s moderate standards. Hell, there is yet no consensus on whether beauty pageants are cattle-market-like festivals of objectification or harmless celebrations of “beauty”. (Actually, there is a certain Twitter user who won the presidency of a moderately powerful country on the account of TV fame, wrestling – and beauty pageants.)
Although I remain doubtful as to whether the sugar-coating tactics might actually work, it is at least easier to digest than the countless depictions of activists in mainstream cinema: often either “sick in the head”, to paraphrase Misbehaviour’s Bob Hope, reduced to comic relief or turned into clichéd wet-eyed superheroes-in-the making.
Mainstream cinema has always had a tendency to veer into the realm of cringe when depicting protest, using images of rallies and civil disobedience as mechanical plot devices or as “radical chic”. Politically radical films have usually been constrained to the realm of radical film-making with a limited audience. Even the better-known films with a truly radical streak – think, for instance, Paul Schrader’s 2017’s First Reformed – belong to the outskirts of the studio system at best. Sure, there are exceptions, such as Spike Lee’s Malcolm X: by all means a traditional Hollywood epic that did not shy away from the problematic aspects of its titular character, leaving the film celebrated by many and rejected for its rough edges by others.
For better or worse, Misbehaviour does not intend to be such an exception, rather choosing to soothe those edges. The protesters are righteous rather than furious, the proponents of the patriarchy ridiculous rather than threatening. The conflicts are familiar, the tropes of an undemanding comedy/drama are in place. Could such a balancing act ever work and, perhaps, win some conservative hearts and minds?
I am hardly qualified to pass a judgement. It will be intriguing, however, to observe the reception of Misbehaviour in terms of its politics. If even a feminist film willing to make such concessions is met with conservative backlash, it might be a noteworthy testimony both to the political divides and the efficiency of “sugar-coating” tactics.
Antonín Handl 