Jeeves, you really are the specific dream rabbit.

Jeeves and Wooster

2.2: A Plan for Gussie

(aka The Bassetts’ Fancy Dress Ball)

The cow creamer business dispatched, the second part of this The Code of the Woosters adaptation preoccupies itself with further Gussie scrapes, and the continuing machinations of Stiffy. Fortunately, Spode is still about to make things extra unpleasant.

Sir Roderick delivers more of his winning policies (“the Right to be issued with a British bicycle and an honest, British-made umbrella”) and some remarkably plausible-sounding nonsense political soundbites (“Nothing stands between us and victory except our defeat!”, “Tomorrow is a new day; the future lies ahead!”) while Jeeves curtly dismisses Spode trying to tag him as one of the working masses. It’s in Spode’s ability to crush skulls that we’re interested, though, and it looks as if his powers have deserted him at the start.

Jeeves has given Gussie a pep-talk in how to get over his terror of Spode (“We don’t fear those we despise… fill one’s mind with scornful thoughts”) but Bertie’s quite right to be sceptical about its efficacy (it doesn’t make Gussie any good at cricket, for starters), particularly since it leads the newt fancier to write all his insults down in a book so he won’t forget them. Which falls into Stiffy’s hands (she is still set on her plan to curry favour with Sir Watkyn; Stinker must steal Oates’ helmet and “If you can’t, you’ll never be bishop!”).

Her light-fingered approach naturally leads to scrapes for Bertie, most dynamically when, during their hunt for the notebook in her room, he and Jeeves leap from a roused and yapping Bartholomew to the safety of the top of a chest of drawers (querying Jeeves’ cowardice, the valet draws his master’s attention to “the number and size of teeth”). Compounding this, Stiffy then gives Spode the notebook and lays the finger on Bertie when the theft of Oates’ helmet comes to light.

Bertie Wooster: Have you ever thought about love, Sir Watkyn?

With Bertie under threat of marital damnation from Madeline (“I will be your wife, Bertie”), the idea of announcing to Spode he will be wedding Stiffy (such that Stinker will seem like a good choice) doesn’t exactly elicit the expected response (Jeeves must be off the fish this week), since Sir Watykn is only relieved she isn’t Madeline, who told him earlier Bertie was due to become his son-in-law (“Oh, well, in that case. I’m delighted”).

Gussie Fink-Nottle: You silly old ass! You unmitigated, pudding-headed old jobbernow!

The juggling of elements is particularly deft in this episode, and the scenes with Spode are as delightful as ever. Come the fancy dress party climax, with Spode as centurion, Bertie as T E Lawrence and Gussie as the devil, it’s time for more farcical chasing, mostly of the variety of Spode pursuing Gussie (“Come out, you putrid little earthworm!”) or Sir Watkyn doing likewise (Gussie unwisely insults him, handing him his notebook to read after Sir Watkyn pulls the plug on his newts).

Bertie Wooster: You can’t be a successful dictator and design women’s underclothing.

The Eulalie ruse is such a good one, it’s only right that Plum chose to dismantle if after this. As Bertie notes before the climax, having the word alone is rather like holding up a bank and not knowing if your gun is loaded or not. He essentially admits it’s a masterful deus ex machina (“Isn’t anyone else I can use it on, is there?”) It’s interesting that Exton chose to alter the novel’s ending, in which Jeeves reveals that Spode is a designer of women’s undergarments of his own accord. Perhaps he considered it a little too indiscreet, as here, Bertie (very conveniently) happens to see Spode with a slip through a shop window.

Bertie Wooster: Are these the actions of rational human beings?

Jeeves: Difficult to say, sir.

Bertie Wooster: Is it for this we dragged ourselves from the primeval ooze, to stir up the notions of simple honest people to a frenzy, and then to go around playing tennis and gigging?

Jeeves: An interesting question, sir.

On the Bertie front, he’s given to opine on the mysteries of the female of the species as a source of incipient pain and disaster for his truly. It’s been said that Wodehouse’s female characters aren’t very fully formed, and that may be true, but I’m not sure the charge is really any more the case than any of his other broad-stroke supporting characters. The real point is his (comparative) lack of female lead characters. It feels idle to single out the author on this area.

Bertie Wooster: Jeeves, you may get rid of those handkerchiefs. I owe it to you. Thank you, sir. I did it last night.

Also on the put-upon Bertie side, he upheld a rare non-capitulation to Jeeves with regard to the latter’s pulling for a world cruise in the previous episode (accusing his gentleman’s gentleman of a Viking strain, and a desire to witness the dancing girls of Bali; Bertie refuses to be decanted in some ocean-going liner and lugged off round the world). He’s less resilient this week, as Jeeves is wonderfully belittling over his latest fashion faux pas: “novelty” handkerchiefs. Initially, Jeeves is reluctant even to label these monogrammed monstrosities as such (“I think not, sir. They appear to have writing on them”), his masterstroke being the suggestion that anyone needing them must be “in danger of forgetting their name”.

With The Code of the Woosters completed, there would be equal parts picking and choosing and proper adaptations for the rest of the season. Certainly, the four-episode run from 1.4 might rank as the most consistently high quality of the entire run, but the mix and match of the rest, which includes the brief tenure of valet Brinkley, ensure there’s still a high standard of material for the picking.

Sources:

The Code of the Woosters

Recurring characters:

Sir Watkyn Bassett (1.1, 2.1, 2.2)

Sir Roderick Spode (2.1, 2.2)

Madeline Basset (1.4, 1.5, 2.1, 2.2)

Gussie Fink-Nottle (1.4, 1.5, 2.1, 2.2)

Rev H P “Stinker” Pinker (2.1, 2.2)

Stephanie “Stiffy” Byng (2.1, 2.2)

Constable Oates (2.1, 2.2)

“Barmy” Fotheringay-Phipps (1.1, 1,2, 1.4, 1.5, 2.1, 2.2)

“Oofy” Prosser (1.1, 1.2, 1.4, 1.5, 2.2)

Agree? Disagree? Mildly or vehemently? Let me know in the comments below.

Your Mickey Mouse is one big stupid dope!

Enemy Mine (1985) (SPOILERS) The essential dynamic of Enemy Mine – sworn enemies overcome their differences to become firm friends – was a well-ploughed one when it was made, such that it led to TV Tropes assuming, since edited, that it took its title from an existing phrase (Barry Longyear, author of the 1979 novella, made it up, inspired by the 1961 David Niven film The Best of Enemies ). The Film Yearbook Volume 5 opined that that Wolfgang Petersen’s picture “ lacks the gritty sauciness of Hell in the Pacific”; John Boorman’s WWII film stranded Lee Marvin and Toshiro Mifune on a desert island and had them first duking it out before becoming reluctant bedfellows. Perhaps germanely, both movies were box office flops.

If I do nothing else, I will convince them that Herbert Stempel knows what won the goddam Academy Award for Best goddam Picture of 1955. That’s what I’m going to accomplish.

Quiz Show (1994) (SPOILERS) Quiz Show perfectly encapsulates a certain brand of Best Picture nominee: the staid, respectable, diligent historical episode, a morality tale in response to which the Academy can nod their heads approvingly and discerningly, feeding as it does their own vainglorious self-image about how times and attitudes have changed, in part thanks to their own virtuousness. Robert Redford’s film about the 1950s Twenty-One quiz show scandals is immaculately made, boasts a notable cast and is guided by a strong screenplay from Paul Attanasio (who, on television, had just created the seminal Homicide: Life on the Streets ), but it lacks that something extra that pushes it into truly memorable territory.

Other monks will meet their deaths here. And they too will have blackened fingers. And blackened tongues.

The Name of the Rose (1986) (SPOILERS) Umberto Eco wasn’t awfully impressed by Jean Jacques-Annaud’s adaptation of his novel – or “ palimpsest of Umberto Eco’s novel ” as the opening titles announce – to the extent that he nixed further movie versions of his work. Later, he amended that view, calling it “ a nice movie ”. He also, for balance, labelled The Name of the Rose his worst novel – “ I hate this book and I hope you hate it too ”. Essentially, he was begrudging its renown at the expense of his later “ superior ” novels. I didn’t hate the novel, although I do prefer the movie, probably because I saw it first and it was everything I wanted from a medieval Sherlock Holmes movie set in a monastery and devoted to forbidden books, knowledge and opinions.

Say hello to the Scream Extractor.

Monsters, Inc. (2001) (SPOILERS) I was never the greatest fan of Monsters, Inc. , even before charges began to be levelled regarding its “true” subtext. I didn’t much care for the characters, and I particularly didn’t like the way Pixar’s directors injected their own parenting/ childhood nostalgia into their plots. Something that just seems to go on with their fare ad infinitum. Which means the Pixars I preferred tended to be the Brad Bird ones. You know, the alleged objectivist. Now, though, we learn Pixar has always been about the adrenochrome, so there’s no going back…

No one can be told what the Matrix is. You have to see it for yourself.

The Matrix (1999) (SPOILERS) Twenty years on, and the articles are on the defining nature of The Matrix are piling up, most of them touching on how its world has become a reality, or maybe always was one. At the time, its premise was engaging enough, but it was the sum total of the package that cast a spell – the bullet time, the fashions, the soundtrack, the comic book-as-live-action framing and styling – not to mention it being probably the first movie to embrace and reflect the burgeoning Internet ( Hackers doesn’t really count), and subsequently to really ride the crest of the DVD boom wave. And now? Now it’s still really, really good.

All the world will be your enemy, Prince with a Thousand Enemies.

Watership Down (1978) (SPOILERS) I only read Watership Down recently, despite having loved the film from the first, and I was immediately impressed with how faithful, albeit inevitably compacted, Martin Rosen’s adaptation is. It manages to translate the lyrical, mythic and metaphysical qualities of Richard Adams’ novel without succumbing to dumbing down or the urge to cater for a broader or younger audience. It may be true that parents are the ones who get most concerned over the more disturbing elements of the picture but, given the maturity of the content, it remains a surprise that, as with 2001: A Space Odyssey (which may on the face of it seem like an odd bedfellow), this doesn’t garner a PG certificate. As the makers noted, Watership Down is at least in part an Exodus story, but the biblical implications extend beyond Hazel merely leading his fluffle to the titular promised land. There is a prevalent spiritual dimension to this rabbit universe, one very much

Piece by piece, the camel enters the couscous.

The Forgiven (2021) (SPOILERS) By this point, the differences between filmmaker John Michael McDonagh and his younger brother, filmmaker and playwright Martin McDonagh, are fairly clearly established. Both wear badges of irreverence and provocation in their writing, and a willingness to tackle – or take pot-shots – at bigger issues, ones that may find them dangling their toes in hot water. But Martin receives the lion’s share of the critical attention, while John is generally recognised as the slightly lesser light. Sure, some might mistake Seven Psychopaths for a John movie, and Calvary for a Martin one, but there’s a more flagrant sense of attention seeking in John’s work, and concomitantly less substance. The Forgiven is clearly aiming more in the expressly substantial vein of John’s earlier Calvary, but it ultimately bears the same kind of issues in delivery.

In a few moments, you will have an experience that will seem completely real. It will be the result of your subconscious fears transformed into your conscious awareness.

Brainstorm (1983) (SPOILERS) Might Brainstorm have been the next big thing – a ground-breaking, game-changing cinematic spectacle that had as far reaching consequences as Star Wars (special effects) or Avatar (3D) – if only Douglas Trumbull had been allowed to persevere with his patented “Showscan” process (70mm film photographed and projected at 60 frames per second)? I suspect not; one only has to look at the not-so-far-removed experiment of Ang Lee with Billy Lynn’s Long Halftime Walk , and how that went down like a bag of cold sick, to doubt that any innovation will necessarily catch on (although Trumbull at least had a narrative hinge on which to turn his “more real than real” imagery, whereas Lee’s pretty much boiled down to “because it was there”). Brainstorm ’s story is, though, like its title, possibly too cerebral, too much concerned with the consciousness and touting too little of the cloyingly affirmative that Bruce Rubin inevitably brings to his screenplays. T

Maybe the dingo ate your baby.

Seinfeld 2.9: The Stranded The Premise George and Elaine are stranded at a party in Long Island, with a disgruntled hostess.

He tasks me. He tasks me, and I shall have him.

Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan (1982) (SPOILERS) I don’t love Star Trek , but I do love Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan . That probably isn’t just me, but a common refrain of many a non-devotee of the series. Although, it used to apply to The Voyage Home (the funny one, with the whales, the Star Trek even the target audience for Three Men and a Baby could enjoy). Unfortunately, its high regard has also become the desperate, self-destructive, song-and-verse, be-all-and-end-all of the overlords of the franchise itself, in whichever iteration, it seems. This is understandable to an extent, as Khan is that rare movie sequel made to transcendent effect on almost every level, and one that stands the test of time every bit as well (better, even) as when it was first unveiled.

Now In Full Color, with a Happier Ending

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