Having had no background on the story of Brideshead Revisted, written by Evelyn Waugh, I found myself positively surprised concerning the predominant theme of the film. I must admit that I had never even heard of the book. That stated, I was, nonetheless, inclined to embrace a story about a middle-class Oxford undergrad who becomes enmeshed with a very disturbed aristocratic family. Charles Ryder first meets Lord Sebastian Flyte when Flyte, a heavy drinker, vomits in Ryder’s living quarters. After Lord Flyte recovers from his drunken stupor the next day, he sends Ryder a bouquet of flowers, a curious gesture that hints at the absurdity, or unconventional nature, of the Flyte family. Lord Flyte is a known “sodomite,” embraced by his fellow Etonians; though Flyte seems eager to embrace something, or someone, outside his tightly-knit milieu. Charles Ryder is clearly not an aristocrat, and one would be forgiven for thinking Ryder’s attraction to Flyte is also based on social curiousity. Both men create a close friendship, one that permeates the boundaries of class. This seems most obvious by Flyte’s metaphoric desire to leave Brideshead - a vast, stony country estate, which, not surprisingly, remains in stark contrast to Ryder’s obsession with the house.
However, the overwhelming sense of power inspired by the sheer vision of the mansion has little to do with the stony fortress than with the towering figure of the mother within. Flyte’s autocratic mother, brilliantly executed by Emma Thompson, is about as endearing as an automobile accident. Her stiff reserve and subtle (even errie) control over her children is frightening. When Charles joins the family for dinner, Lady Marchmain (the mother) establishes Ryder as a proverbial ”other,” a non-aristocrat, even worse – an artist and an atheist. And yet, Lady Marchmain keeps Ryder around, presumably as an extension of her control. She finds she can use Ryder as a vessel to control Sebastian, to keep a watchful eye on her homosexual son. However, Ryder begins to unravel her control when he indulges Sebastian by giving him money for alcohol. Alcohol is Sebastian’s only escape from the guilt his very Catholic mother wields on him. But seemingly, Ryder’s greatest assault on Lady Marchmain is his undeniable appeal to her daughter, the Lady Julia Flyte. Ryder acts as a catalyzing agent in a daunting reaction of guilt, denial, indulgence, and betrayal. For both Sebastian and Julia, Ryder is the very person who forces their true selves to rise to the surface. Lady Marchmain seems to catch on to this, and subsequently banishes Ryder from Brideshead.
The story may seem to be an indictment of religion, specifically, the Catholic religion. Though, this may be a surface interpretation, for, after all, Ryder is not exactly let off the hook. His obstinate refusal of religion, comparable to Lady Marchmain’s staunch dislike of Atheism, is portrayed as equally distasteful. Julia does marry, but it isn’t to Ryder, whose inflexibilty (decision not to convert) prevents any chance of marriage. She marries Rex, a Catholic american. Rather telling is Rex’s admission to Ryder that he converted to Catholicism in order to marry Julia. Two ideas seem to be presented here: One should stick to one’s true convictions, even if a life of unhappiness will result; or, alternatively, one is a fool to give up pleasure and happiness (considering for Ryder there is no afterlife) for useless convictions.
In a sense, both Lady Marchmain and Ryder are the same person – stubborn, inflexible, and dangerously unhappy due to the question of religion. In the end, the film seems less about Catholicism, adultery, homosexuality and duty. These are merely vehicles that expose the film’s true message (at least as I see it) - the human inclination to confuse and complicate life is clearly under attack here. At the end of the film, a young soldier is asked by Ryder if he subscribes to religion, the young man’s answer is startingly simple, and yet, strangely eloquent and profound. The young man states that one is born, lives, and then dies, and that’s all one can know. Like any tragedy, Brideshead Revisted leaves the viewer with a sense of wastefulness. Each character is unable to leave Brideshead behind. Though Sebastian leaves for Morocco, the shadow of Brideshead still looms over him as he lays dying in ruins. Inevitably, Julia’s guilt forces her to leave Ryder, the love of her life, for the oppression of Brideshead. Even Charles returns to Brideshead many years later when the old house becomes a resting place for the British military. It seems no one truly escapes the stranglehold of Brideshead, nor the confusion and unnecessary complexity of which the house represents. Unfortunately, all remain virtually lifeless, entombed within the stone fortress.
All in all, this film may be enlightening to those of us who are prone to the old melancholy. Life need not be unnecessarily complicated, and this film suggests that one must act on one’s passions while rejecting any sort of guilt society may wish to heap upon us.
Anne
