An ambitious young man, Joe Lampton (Laurence Harvey, The Alamo and The Manchurian Candidate), has finally landed a good job far away from his rickety hometown. Joe realizes pretty quick that a “9 to 5 job” is not going to get him where he wants to be, so he sets his eyes on the daughter of the town’s wealthiest person. His plan starts to go awry when he falls in love with an older French actress (Simone Signoret, Diabolique and Ship of Fools).
Reaction & Thoughts:
Room at the Top is the first and (by far) my favorite of the so-called British New Wave kitchen sink dramas, commonly known as “The Angry Young Men films.” I love these films (e.g. Look Back in Anger, This Sporting Life, The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner). Room at the Top sets the tone, the look, etc., of a brand new potpourri of films that were meant to echo blue-collar angst.
Room at the Top is technically vibrant. First-time director Jack Clayton (The Innocents), with the help of ace cameraman Freddie Francis (Sons and Lovers and The Elephant Man), pretty much established the rules of the game sort of speak — the jaded tone of the piece is backed up by an extraordinary sense of style. The film manages to be both stylish and realistic, a decidedly hard hat trick to pull off.
It’s a gutsy movie too. All films about working class people (that I’ve seen) are drenched in sympathy with the plight of the working poor. These films — The Grapes of Wrath, Norma Rae, etc. — tend to convey a sort of classism in reverse; rich people are bad, poor people are wholesome. Not this movie.
Room at the Top has the audacity to make the proletarian guy the most despicable character in the entire film. In fact, the most likable person in the whole movie is the trust-fund-baby, a movie trope that has been used as a punching bag in countless of films. But the movie is not content with playing with our expectations; it goes one step further and blurs the lines between villains and heroes, giving most characters good/bad traits.
The brilliant script by Neil Paterson, based on the novel by John Braine, also makes an interesting connection between misogyny and social mobility — the film explores the idea of men achieving success at the expense of women (in the movie, women are used/abused by all kinds of “angry men”). That’s another curious take on social inequality, which makes me wonder how much sympathy the film really has for the “angry white male,” who by all accounts, feels trampled upon by society.
Laurence Harvey is dynamite as the ruthless social climber who will stop at nothing to achieve success. Harvey’s gold-digger is far from a sociopath, though. He’s driven by personal demons and insecurities that are all-too-familiar to many of us — despite his abhorrent behavior, Harvey’s Joe comes across as very human. Harvey is trying to buck an unjust social system where destiny is predetermined at birth, a very relatable struggle.
Simone Signoret is radiant, earthy, sublime as Harvey’s older lover. She deservedly won the Best Actress Oscar. Her expressive eyes telegraph every deep emotion. Signoret comes and goes out of the narrative — after all, this is Harvey’s film all the way — but she makes every moment of her screen-time count.
Donald Wolfit (Lawrence of Arabia) also gives a powerful performance as Mr Brown (Wolfit was the inspiration for Ronald Harwood’s famous play The Dresser, which was filmed in 1983 with Albert Finney as Wolfit). Hermione Baddeley (Mary Poppins) received an Oscar nomination for her role as Signoret’s best friend. I believe it is the shortest performance — three short scenes that amount to less than three minutes — to be nominated for an acting Oscar.
Conclusions & Final Thoughts:
Room at the Top is the antithesis of Capracorn. Frank Capra believed in the goodness of the ordinary man/woman. This film avoids any pandering, spreading the blame on socio-economic problems everywhere, not just on the lap of the powerful & rich. If you are looking for a film that makes you feel good about being part of the working force look elsewhere. Room at the Top slaps you with truths that none of us really want to hear — it’s incredibly powerful, timeless in that regard. B&W, 115 minutes, Not Rated.
Followed by Life at the Top (1965)