I put this on late last night after renting it from Lovefilm. I wasn’t too fussed about seeing it – I’ve got a few good titles coming up on my rental list, so I thought I’d get it out of the way and wait for the next one. However, I was totally surprised and was gripped for every minute.

I’m a bit of a sucker for the Pinteresque set-up of films. I like the sparse dialogue, precise delivery and obsequious banter. Pinter’s screenplay is instantly recognisable, and the general look of the film very reminiscent of other Pinter-inspired films to come – films like Polanski’s ‘Cul-de-Sac’ (which I have forever rated higher than ‘Repulsion’). The characters we are introduced to – The smartly dressed man-servant Barrett, played by Dirk Bogarde, and the seemingly affable playboy Tony, played by James Fox in his first major role.

Of course, unlike Cul-de-Sac, we have quite a dramatis personae, with each character big and small representing at least a portion of their respective class. Tony’s awful girlfriend, Susan, is a prudish, frigid toff who takes an instant dislike to Barrett and likes to order him around, even though she doesn’t live with Tony in his trendy London townhouse. Vera, Barrett’s stunning and highly sexed girlfriend, is a playful and likeable character. And then there are the smaller characters: Susan and Tony’s ‘friends’ who they visit at some sort of country estate, standing like statues of Imperialist buffoons, all pomp and pretension but, apparently, completely clueless about the world. Susan, despite being a fairly horrible woman, has the upper hand with this older couple and points out to them that they had misappropriated the word ‘poncho’. “No, that is a cloak.” says one of these aristocrats. Of course, the English word is correct, who cares if the Argentines are ponchos or wear gauchos? Not that it matters anyway – we feel that Tony’s plan of building cities in the jungle (or on the plains? he doesn’t quite get his story straight) is a hare-brained scheme that will never actually happen. We get fleeting glances of the opposite end of the social spectrum throughout the film – a girl in a coffee shop who may or may not be a prostitute. Some common tarts waiting to use a phone booth. They’re all there for a reason. It’s interesting how Fox’s character seems at first to want to talk to this prostitute, but nervously backs out, whereas Barrett’s encounter with the irritating tarts on the street results in quite a shocking exchange of words for 1963. He’s working class though, ain’t he?

In the first act of ‘The Servant’, we see Barrett in one of two modes. Primarily, he is the careful butler – ever attentive, polite and hard-working. However, when Tony is out of the house we see him in a more relaxed manner – casually smoking as he stirs some soup, flicking cigarette ash any which way, and picking his teeth with a toothpick, dressed in a charming tank top over unbuttoned shirt. He becomes even more relaxed upon the arrival of his ‘sister’, much to Susan’s chagrin.

The movie takes a very dramatic and highly stylised volta around the halfway mark – this movie is quite beautifully shot by Doug Slocombe – and Tony’s life gets turned on its head. But Barrett’s game is far from over. He is certainly a talented chap. Sauntering into the living room in his dressing gown and puffing a cigarette, he gives the big reveal to Tony. Susan is of course utterly disgraced, and leaves possibly forever. You can’t help but feel a little bit sorry for Tony. Despite his spoiled playboy attitude, he never seems completely comfortable with ordering Barrett around, telling Susan “he’s still human, you know.” He’s not a totally bad chap.

After a brief hiatus, Barrett skilfully returns to Tony. Where has he been? Has he conned some other poor playboy? Where does he get money to buy those handsome scarves? I see him as a bit of a Tom Ripley. Worming his way back in, the balance of power is tipped in his favour. This is where the film took me by surprise. This balance is not satisfying, and we are not totally happy with the fact that the working class chap has found a plateau at least on the same level as the rich playboy. Bogarde’s acting is pitch-perfect the whole way through, and he plays the true-colours Barrett with an explicit sense of self-righteousness. They become very pally – playing cards and drinking together (naturally, there is subtle hint of homosexuality – a theme often discussed when it comes to this film. However, it is absolutely meiotic subtlety. It’s 1963 – homosexuality is illegal, both on film and in real life. We are lift to fill in the blanks) but these always seem to end in a struggle. Tony is slightly wary – though not outright annoyed – that Barrett has changed the hierarchy. He seems to struggle with telling Barrett what he is; in one exchange on the stairs after a game of dodgeball, he seems recitent as he tells Barrett “you’re just the manservant…” and Barrett shouts him down in a petulant manner, before chuckling patronisingly at him and walking away.

From here the film moves into the grotesque – the highpoint of which is a highly dramatic sequence in which they play Hide and Seek – Fox cowers in a corner, sweating, hand over his mouth, while Bogarde does his best Bela Lugosi. The final scene seems like a deleted scene from Blue Velvet – a dreamlike ‘orgy’ in which the final card is played in Tony’s undoing, and the balance is permanently tipped…again, much to the chagrin of Susan, who is totally confused by the entire thing.

I immediately rate this as one of the most important British films since 1945. Everyone has their favourites, and this may not always be picked, but I found it relentlessly brilliant. Pinter’s screenplay, Bogarde’s acting, Slocombe’s photography all make for a brilliant British film about class. But it’s not a class struggle, or even a class war. Barrett, that cheeky northern Tom Ripley, has the upper hand the whole time.