BY TIM GREAVES
During my formative years – as I sat before a steady
procession of unforgettable movies, my passion for cinema intensifying with the
discovery of the diverse emotions that films proved capable of stirring within me
– there were several behind-the-camera names that would show up on opening
titles sequences which I started to recognise, people whose involvement in any
given picture became synonymous with a fine evening’s entertainment. One of
those names was Elliott Kastner. The producer behind dozens of films, from
big guns such as the fabulous wartime actioner Where Eagles Dare and Charles
Bronson western whodunnit Breakheart Pass, to less remembered gems the like of
beautifully melancholic heartbreaker Jeremy and psychological thriller Death
Valley, if Elliott Kastner's name was attached to it then, for me, that was a
cast-iron guarantee that I wasn't going to come away disappointed.
Which brings us to director Anthony Page's 1978 clerical
mystery Absolution starring Richard Burton, which Kastner co-produced
(alongside four-times collaborator Danny O'Donovan) and which somehow bypassed
me for years until I finally caught up with it recently courtesy of Kino
Lorber's new Blu-ray disc.
Benjie Stanfield (Dominic Guard) is the most promising
pupil at a Catholic public school. Feeling the pressure of permanently having
to act the model student he starts to develop a rebellious streak. Much to the
dismay of his austere housemaster, Father Goddard (Richard Burton), Stanfield
begins associating with ne’er-do-well traveller Blakey (Billy Connolly) who's
set up camp in the woodland adjacent to the school and whose bohemian lifestyle
strikes the young lad as idyllic. Furthermore, Stanfield starts to spin
outrageous fictions to Goddard which, bound by the seal of the confessional,
the incensed priest is powerless to punish him for. Then, following an argument
with Blakey, the distraught Stanfield confesses to Goddard that he lost his
temper and killed the man. Is he telling the truth, or is it just more
mischief? And when he confides that he'd like to do away with irritating fellow
pupil Arthur Dyson (David Bradley), can the poor, beleaguered Father Goddard
manage to stop him?
For the most part tautly directed by Anthony Page, Absolution
is a keen-edged mystery from the pen of Anthony Shaffer (whose other notable
works include The Wicker Man, Frenzy and ultimate twisty-turny thriller Sleuth).
Yes, the first half is something of a leisurely affair, taking perhaps a shade
too much time to establish its protagonists. But hang on in there, because at
the midway point the screw begins to turn and continues to tighten up the
suspense to almost knuckle-whitening levels as the story reaches its
(semi-)predictable dénouement. And if it is predictable to any degree, that's
only because, coming as it does from the writer of the aforementioned Sleuth,
one spends the film’s runtime trying to second-guess its sting (one aspect of
which, expected or otherwise, still harbours a shockingly brutal punch).
I don't think I've ever seen a disappointing Richard
Burton performance – even in those occasionally questionable projects (which,
with hindsight, he himself might have conceded were poor judgment calls) he was
always the dominating presence – and with Absolution arriving the same year as The
Medusa Touch and The Wild Geese we can certainly be thankful to 1978 for
its delicious crop of Burton victuals. His exemplary performance here as
Father Goddard, which came towards the end of a career cut tragically short by
his premature death in 1984, is spellbinding; the character's burgeoning air of
desperation and despair is relayed to perfection. Just as he should be, Dominic
Guard is irksomely smirky and objectionably arrogant as Stanfield, the
blue-eyed boy gone bad who's holding the whip hand and seemingly relishing
every moment of it. David Bradley (probably best known for his starring role in
Kes, credited here as Dai Bradley) garners audience empathy as
underdog Dyson, the gawky target of Stanfield's disdain. Billy Connolly
meanwhile is first-rate in his film debut, revealing a talent that stretched
far beyond the stand-up comedy for which, back in 1978, he was almost
exclusively renowned. The supporting cast includes a typically gruff Andrew
Keir as the school's headmaster, Brian Glover as a thuggish policeman and the
always engaging Hilary Mason, Oh, and unless I'm very much mistaken, Linda
Robson puts in a single shot cameo as a school dinner lady.
As tales of priests vexed by the sanctity of the confessional
go, Absolution would make for a very fine double-feature companion to gripping
Hitchcock drama I Confess. And where with films such as this the words
"don't watch the trailer before you've seen the film" are a fairly
mandatory warning, in Absolution's case it's imperative one take heed. I
mention this specifically because the original trailer is included among the
bonus features on Kino Lorber's Blu-ray release and it recklessly throws away a
key moment from the climax. If the disc’s menu screen sets off alarm bells with
its excessively grainy still image of Richard Burton, it shouldn't be cause for
concern; the 1.85:1 transfer of the feature is almost impeccable, faltering
only at the tail end of the closing credits with evidence of some minor print damage.
The aforementioned "avoid at all costs" trailer aside, the disc’s all
too sparse supplements comprise just a pair of thematically-associated trailers
(for Donald Sutherland vehicle The Rosary Murders, and True Confessions
starring the two Roberts, De Niro and Duvall).
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(Editor's note: "Absolution" is now streaming on Amazon Prime, although the source print seems to be a muddy "dollar store" DVD.)