Last night I attended a screening of The Boy Friend, Ken Russell’s 1971 film adaptation of the Sandy Wilson musical. This showing was part of Lincoln Center’s ongoing tribute to Ken Russell, which began last weekend and will be running until the end of the week.

What made yesterday evening so special and poignant to yours truly was the presence of the great man himself. Walking slowly with a cane and physically frail, the former enfante terrible of British 1960s and 1970s cinema, had little to say during the very brief Q & A that followed (“I thought it was a bloody good film and I bid you all an adieu…”). However, as someone who has seen and revered several of his classic films (Tommy, Women in Love and the wonderfully insane, sacrilegious and subversive The Devils) I was thrilled to bits to see the octogenerian film-maker.

Tommy Tune, who co-starred with Twiggy in The Boy Friend, was also there. After the showing, Tune got up on the stage of the Walter Reade Theater and executed a few dance steps he did in the film. He was very game and VERY TALL. He looks great and I hope to see him treading the Broadway stage soon.

The Boy Friend is typical Russell: Visually garish to the point of excess, punctuated by similarly unrestrained direction among the actors, most of whom (except for Twiggy) were apparently encouraged to be as over the top as possible. I thought Twiggy was very charming and appealing as the ingenue (no wonder she was able to parlay this performance into a pretty successful musical theater career) and I tittered at how YOUNG Tune was. I do think the film went on WAY too long; there were several interludes that could have been cut. But when you see a Russell film, you have to be prepared to visually and aurally feast on a meal that will stuff you to the gills with its heaping servings of fantasias.

My favorite Russell film is his brilliant 1969 adaptation of the D.H. Lawrence novel, Women in Love. The film, which tracks two different romantic relationships, one nurturing and loving and the other dark and destructive, is a pitch-perfect, even lyrical evocation of Lawrence’s words brought to life. If you can find the DVD, please go out and rent it. It’s genius and I’m sorry I missed the screening of this film this past weekend at Lincoln Center.

And, of course, the movie boasts one of the most shamelessly homoerotic scenes in the history of cinema ever–the nude wrestling scene between Alan Bates’ character Birkin and Oliver Reed’s character Gerald.

Check it out:

Did you find this information helpful? If you did, consider donating.