Wedged between the hours of mirth and excitement, forgetfulness and absurdity that alcohol so amply affords, there is, routinely, the vague creeping notion of quitting alcohol for good. A lot of my friends have gone through it. I have as well. Those binge drinking days in your 20s when you overdo it, waking up half-soused, feeling like a pig shat in your head as you recline on a cheap air mattress in a frail state, decrying the drink as the scourge of humanity. You promise to never drink again, to never say those things, to do those deeds, though by next weekend there you are again, coolly checking into a bottle and checking out of your head. Alcohol does funny things like that. The drink on the front end inspires you to be good person for the night, a mess occurs at some point, and then on the back end you are renouncing all the wretched things that happened. Alcohol can wrest you down from the highest opinion of yourself to the lowest, and leave you scrambling to retrieve stasis, only for it to happen again. I think they call it a cycle in AA and other places, but I wouldn’t know, I’ve never been.
The reason for mentioning this is that Withnail and I is a film about alcoholism and growing up. It is the idea in film form of customarily getting shytfaced and always wanting to quit. The film follows Withnail (Richard E. Grant) and I (whose name is Marlowe in the film though is never said and is played by Paul McGann), two struggling actors residing in London in 1969. Their lives are punctuated by a haze of drugs, booze, cigarettes and poverty as they drift through their late 20’s in search of acting gigs.
The plot is basic, as the film follows Withnail and I as they leave London for a weekend in the countryside with Withnail’s uncle Monty. But what makes Withnail and I a resounding film and rewarding upon further viewings is the underlying themes of friendship, transitioning into adulthood, the demise of relationships as well as the tragic fate of those who succumb to the hindrances of alcoholism and self-loathing. The film never veers into a bombastic cautionary tale replete with scary montages and on the nose depictions of alcoholism. Instead, the film goes about its work in much more subtle tones, situating alcohol as a central yet unobtrusive piece of furniture in the films scenes. There is rarely a scene that shows Withnail without a drink and without a scowl on his face. As a result the film, in a way, becomes more drunk (if you will) and as absurd as it goes on. It culminates to one of the final scenes where we see by the end that Withnail is at his lowest, drunkenly fiddling with a prepackaged urine contraption in order to dupe a piss test administered by the police.
Withnail’s reluctance to give up booze and his statement that, “There’s always time for a drink” is set in contrast to the character arc of Marlowe who we see at the end of the film, clean-cut and ready to start a new chapter in his life. The boozy fug has lifted and there is that recurring assurance that despite the transgressions carried out under the influence, a new day and a new opportunity has presented itself to be a better person. The film ends showing several of the paths in which alcohol can lead you, one bitterly depressing and one slightly optimistic. Of all that I have read about this film, people always tend to focus on Withnail’s fate, a downtrodden albeit talented actor reduced to the status of a bum, while people rarely ever mention Marlowe's ending. Marlowe leaves his revelry and listless lifestyle behind to opt for the best version of himself. The point for me and my wrestling with alcohol and this film is that there is always the chance to do that, the grasping of the best versions of ourselves and Marlowe has achieved that. And so can everyone else.
