British cinema – and particularly that of the 1940s, 50s and 60s – tugs violently at itself from within. On the one hand, there is the social realist impulse, as exemplified by such films as ‘Saturday Night and Sunday Morning’ (1960) and ‘The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner’ (1962). And on the other, there are the flighty excursions into the fantastic and the dreamlike, such as the work of both Powell & Pressburger and the Hammer studio. Lindsay Anderson’s masterful ‘If….’ (1968) at once drags these polar traditions together; expands on their possibilities; and, from their tense juxtaposition, derives a rare poetry and force.

We might identify ‘If….’’s social realism not only in its authentic portrayal of public school life, but also in the way it exploits its setting as a microcosm for all British society. As soon as the realisation come that the school’s distinct groupings – from the Juniors to the Seniors, and from the Crusaders to the Staff – represent the panoply of that nation’s social classes, then many subsequent parallels become deliciously subversive:

The school’s code of conduct precludes camaraderie and encourages snobbery (a Senior to a Junior: “You don’t speak to us. You’re a scum”). Those higher in the school’s hierarchy maintain their dominance through nothing more than – to use Max Weber’s dictum – “a monopoly of the legitimate use of physical force”. And the institution’s emphasis upon tradition reveals it as a pre-democratic hinterland, bypassed by the social revolution of the 1960s.

All of which, so far, points to a single, overwhelming message: Change Britain! Interestingly, this completes a development in British cinema which had begun with Humphrey Jennings’ ‘Listen to Britain’ in 1942; and which was continued by Anderson himself when he named the second Free Cinema programme ‘Look at Britain’ in 1957. A triumvirate is necessary as listening and looking were no longer enough: class antagonisms and stifling Victorian values should be to the sword, and a bright, new way introduced.

We should be thankful, then, that – just as the failings of Britain fostered Lindsay Anderson the iconoclastic filmmaker – so too do those of the school create a disgruntled underclass of would-be revolutionaries. Yet whilst these ‘Crusaders’ – led by the irrepressible Mick Travis (Malcolm McDowall) – promise to be the harbingers of a new social order, there is one crucial respect in which they do not stand apart from the old one. That is, both oppressed and oppressor understand the electric power of violence in achieving ends. But whatever the morality of this method – and regardless of whether the viewer prefers the term “terrorist” or “freedom fighter” in this case – it is clear that ultimate blame lies with the school oligarchy, for maintaining an environment in which the “Yell of Hate” is “the only yell that counts”. After all, it is only after his beating at the hands of one of the school “Whips”, Rowntree (Rovert Swann), that Mick uncovers the bullets he has hidden in his room and utters the ominous line, “One man can change the world with a bullet in the right place…”.

However, for Anderson, a stark fault-line exists between calling for change and expecting change to occur; a fault-line exposed by ‘If….’’s fantasy sequences. Alongside the film’s hazily dreamlike shifts between colour and black-and-white film stock, there are several scenes which - being surreal in content and free from any later consequences – recommend themselves as Mick’s dreams. Among these scenes should be numbered the film’s seemingly shocking denouement, and thus we can conclude that the revolution – being nothing more than the projection of a fevered imagination – doesn’t happen at all.

So, whilst ‘If….’ would surely agree with Samuel Johnson’s edict that “patriotism is the last refuge of the scoundrel,” it would add a further motto: “Dreams are the last refuge of the unpatriotic”! Yet even in dreams, the unpatriotic realize the almost impossible odds that they face: ‘If….’’s final scene depicts the forces of oligarchy rallying against - and almost certainly about to overpower - the iconoclast. And thus, whilst the final image of Mick grinning through a veil of smoke is one of iconic strength, it is also a portrait of futility – the system may be too entrenched to be changed.

In the end, ‘If….’ discovers that at the boundary between realism and fantasy lies pragmatism: that is, recognition of the world’s truths, process and its all-to-sad limitations. However, this pragmatism needn’t be defeating: after all there is something heroic – almost Messianic – in the struggle itself. And, whatever its outcome, we still have our minds; we still have our dreams; and we still have ‘If….’.

Peter Hoskin

Disc Size: 46,333,738,488 bytes

Criterion

Paramount

Blu-ray

Aspect Ratio:
Widescreen anamorphic - 1.66:1

Edition Details:
• Commentary by film critic and historian David Robinson and actor Malcolm McDowell
• Cast and Crew (2003), an episode from the Scottish TV series featuring interviews with McDowell, Ondricek, Rakoff, director’s assistant Stephen Frears, producer Michael Medwin, and screenwriter David
• Video interview with actor Graham Crowden (14:36)
• Thursday’s Children (1954), Academy Award–winning documentary about a school for deaf children, directed by Anderson and Guy Brenton and narrated by Richard Burton (22:07)
 

Release Information:
Studio: Criterion Collection

Aspect Ratio:
Original Aspect Ratio 1.66:1

Edition Details:

• Commentary by: film critic and historian David Robinson and actor Malcolm McDowell
• Cast and Crew (2003), an episode from the Scottish TV series featuring interviews with McDowell, Ondricek, Rakoff, director’s assistant Stephen Frears, producer Michael Medwin, and screenwriter David Sherwin (42:07 in 1080i)
•  Video interview with actor Graham Crowden (14:37 in 1080i)
• Thursday’s Children (1954), Academy Award–winning documentary about a school for deaf children, directed by Anderson and Guy Brenton and narrated by Richard Burton (22:09 in 1080P)
• Liner notes booklet featuring pieces by critic David Ehrenstein, screenwriter David Sherwin, and director Lindsay Anderson

Blu-ray Release Date: August 30th
Transparent Blu-ray case
Chapters: 9