It's been a very long time since I saw "Tales of the Unexpected." I used to watch it when it first came on TV in the U.S. back in the late 1970s-early 1980s but I was always struck by the cruel and ironic twists of fate that befell the characters.
In this episode, I liked Roald Dahl's opening discussion about how "black comedy" is ultimately uncomfortable as he points out that those things which are tragic are usually not funny, but black comedy is. Then he asks why, and leaves it to us to try to figure it out. The fact is that, although we laugh, we are simultaneously uncomfortable because it is black comedy which, at worst, means something tragic or at least mortifying has happened. Usually, such things are not funny.
In this episode Joan Collins plays an arrogant, unpleasant woman married to a rich, titled art collector. She's so bossy that she runs his family business whereas he suffers in silence while the servants roll their eyes behind her back. She also carries on numerous affairs under her husband's nose.
One weekend her husband invites an art historian to his wife's house party who turns out to be young and handsome, not old and staid (like her husband). In the course of being her usual unpleasant, temperamental self she attempts to seduce the young man -- who doesn't discourage her but also doesn't push her away -- only to be foiled by the butler, her husband's most faithful, and ever watchful servant. The butler is apparently the lady's bete noir -- at least at first.
The next morning the lady is out enjoying the grounds with another one of her boyfriends, a British Army Major who, temperamentally at least, is more her type than the art historian. While making fun of the artwork in her husband's sculpture garden, she puts her head in the hole of one priceless work and gets stuck. Now, the servants, her husband and the other guests -- including the handsome art historian -- combine forces to try to pry her loose to no avail, even using lard to help "grease" her head out of the hole. Of course, in the midst of all this the lady's predicament makes her look absurd -- a fact not lost on either her or everybody else present. Even the art historian has to hide a smile or two.
At the end, the butler produces an axe from the suit of armor in the front hall of the mansion as well as a saw for the master of the house to choose from to free his wife's head. We see the husband choose the axe, we see the art historian's astonished face, we hear the wife's scream of fear, and then the end credits roll without our ever knowing if the baronet chopped off his wife's head or demolished his valuable sculpture in orderto free it.
Funny, but also troubling. But why? Obviously, it's not funny when somebody gets decapitated even if they are unpleasant. But assuming that didn't happen, which in all probability it didn't, why is it still unsettling? It's more the implied malice that is the final "twist of the knife" than anything else. One doesn't really believe that a British Baronet is going to chop his wife's head off, no matter how tempting the prospect. He's not a murderer and, besides, she's not worth going to jail for. But the enjoyment of the lady's predicament -- her comeuppance as the old saying goes -- is where the real twist of the knife comes into play.
At the end of the day one feels a little bit sorry for her. Ultimately, the presence of the handsome young art historian makes things worse. Here is someone whose opinion we think Lady Turton actually cares about. She was sexually attracted to him. He's handsome, cultured and worthy. So his opinion matters to her, and to us. Yet he, unwittingly, has become witness to her humiliation as she is taken down a peg or two.
What adds to the irony is that the art historian -- although clearly finding the lady attractive -- never actually encouraged her infidelity, so his conduct remains blameless whereas hers is dubious, at best. There is a sense that she gets what she deserves, and yet the punishment still feels harsh and a little mean. It doesn't help that her callous disregard for anything she doesn't care about led to her predicament; After all, nobody told her to stick her head in the hole of a sculpture. This makes her embarrassment all the more cruel because she honestly has nobody to blame but herself.
Like I said, it's a twist of the knife. :-)
In this episode, I liked Roald Dahl's opening discussion about how "black comedy" is ultimately uncomfortable as he points out that those things which are tragic are usually not funny, but black comedy is. Then he asks why, and leaves it to us to try to figure it out. The fact is that, although we laugh, we are simultaneously uncomfortable because it is black comedy which, at worst, means something tragic or at least mortifying has happened. Usually, such things are not funny.
In this episode Joan Collins plays an arrogant, unpleasant woman married to a rich, titled art collector. She's so bossy that she runs his family business whereas he suffers in silence while the servants roll their eyes behind her back. She also carries on numerous affairs under her husband's nose.
One weekend her husband invites an art historian to his wife's house party who turns out to be young and handsome, not old and staid (like her husband). In the course of being her usual unpleasant, temperamental self she attempts to seduce the young man -- who doesn't discourage her but also doesn't push her away -- only to be foiled by the butler, her husband's most faithful, and ever watchful servant. The butler is apparently the lady's bete noir -- at least at first.
The next morning the lady is out enjoying the grounds with another one of her boyfriends, a British Army Major who, temperamentally at least, is more her type than the art historian. While making fun of the artwork in her husband's sculpture garden, she puts her head in the hole of one priceless work and gets stuck. Now, the servants, her husband and the other guests -- including the handsome art historian -- combine forces to try to pry her loose to no avail, even using lard to help "grease" her head out of the hole. Of course, in the midst of all this the lady's predicament makes her look absurd -- a fact not lost on either her or everybody else present. Even the art historian has to hide a smile or two.
At the end, the butler produces an axe from the suit of armor in the front hall of the mansion as well as a saw for the master of the house to choose from to free his wife's head. We see the husband choose the axe, we see the art historian's astonished face, we hear the wife's scream of fear, and then the end credits roll without our ever knowing if the baronet chopped off his wife's head or demolished his valuable sculpture in orderto free it.
Funny, but also troubling. But why? Obviously, it's not funny when somebody gets decapitated even if they are unpleasant. But assuming that didn't happen, which in all probability it didn't, why is it still unsettling? It's more the implied malice that is the final "twist of the knife" than anything else. One doesn't really believe that a British Baronet is going to chop his wife's head off, no matter how tempting the prospect. He's not a murderer and, besides, she's not worth going to jail for. But the enjoyment of the lady's predicament -- her comeuppance as the old saying goes -- is where the real twist of the knife comes into play.
At the end of the day one feels a little bit sorry for her. Ultimately, the presence of the handsome young art historian makes things worse. Here is someone whose opinion we think Lady Turton actually cares about. She was sexually attracted to him. He's handsome, cultured and worthy. So his opinion matters to her, and to us. Yet he, unwittingly, has become witness to her humiliation as she is taken down a peg or two.
What adds to the irony is that the art historian -- although clearly finding the lady attractive -- never actually encouraged her infidelity, so his conduct remains blameless whereas hers is dubious, at best. There is a sense that she gets what she deserves, and yet the punishment still feels harsh and a little mean. It doesn't help that her callous disregard for anything she doesn't care about led to her predicament; After all, nobody told her to stick her head in the hole of a sculpture. This makes her embarrassment all the more cruel because she honestly has nobody to blame but herself.
Like I said, it's a twist of the knife. :-)