Writer and Director: Barnaby Thompson
A documentary about Noël Coward is long overdue, but Barnaby Thompson’s sensitive and revealing documentary is well worth the wait. Coward, often called The Master because of his wide-ranging accomplishments in the arts, was once the archetypical English man. And Coward’s life itself seems to be a very English story, full of stiff upper lips, dressing gowns and patriotism in the face of a society that often kept him at arm’s length.
Although Coward never publicly came out as homosexual, his sex life must have been an open secret and Thompson’s film suggests that his sexuality might have been the reason that the playwright and composer was not knighted earlier, despite the Queen Mother’s apparent approval of such a title. Coward had two longish relationships with men, but discretion was the key, especially between the wars when his popularity was at its zenith.
He first came to the public’s attention with his play The Vortex, in which he also starred. Its story of drug addiction was shocking, but Coward was also noticed because of his quick-talking dialogue, a style he had picked up from watching shows on Broadway a few years earlier and a style that was in direct contrast to the stuffy drawing rooms plays of London’s West End. After rave reviews, he was courted by newspapers and magazines. His face was plastered on every front page and his opinion was sought on every matter.
His fame was unstoppable. Hay Fever, Private Lives and A Design For Living were all hits in the years before the Second World War. and Blithe Spirit was a huge success in 1941. But, like so many other stories of English heroes, the media eventually turned against him, questioning why Coward was on a jolly in America during the war. Little did the papers know that Coward was actually working for the British Government trying to find out if America would join the war effort.
But Coward bounced back as joint director, along with David Lean, of the jingoistic film In Which We Serve. However, the 50s were a tougher time for him. He found himself in serious debt, old friend and co-star Gertie Lawrence died suddenly, and once again Coward had a hard time with the papers, this time with the critics who rubbished each of his new plays. With the likes of John Osborne and Harold Pinter making their mark on the theatre scene, Coward’s plays were decidedly old-fashioned and Coward didn’t have a single word of praise for these upstarts.
But Coward bounced back again, and again, even, incredibly, doing a residency in Las Vegas. His resilience to every setback as well as his desperation for his talents to be recognised should perhaps make Coward a difficult man to like, but the footage in Barnaby Thompson’s film clearly sure that Coward was a quirky but loveable genius, quick in his wit and never too proud. And it’s helped that his words are spoken in soothing RP by actor Rupert Everett. A few times Alan Cumming’s narration is a touch too boisterous and brings us too quickly back to the present from the cocktail hour. Most of the film is nostalgically imagined in black and white with Adam Lambert’s wistful version of Mad About the Boy as accompaniment.
In remembering Noël Coward this film also remembers London’s West End at its best when people dressed up to go to the theatre and when a bad review could shut down a show in a matter of weeks. It conjures up an England that probably only existed on the silver screen and on the stage. Like Coward himself, Mad About The Boy is stylish and debonair. Even mad dogs and Englishmen will like it.
Noel Coward: Mad About the Boy is released by Altitude Films in UK and Ireland Cinemas from 2 June.
