Aug. 27th, 2014

abendgules: (downhill)
Last weekend, I caught the tail end of a British WWII movie, In which we serve, from 1942 - made as the war was on.

All of a sudden I have a vision of how the British saw themselves, or were supposed to see themselves at this point:

where class divisions work in everyone's favour,

where women knit urgently through the Blitz (English style, holding needles like pens, the least efficient way possible) and have nice cups of tea,

where days off with your girl are always in flawless summer, suitable for picnics,

where a man breaks news of family deaths to his superior officer but cannot offer him condolences across the ranks and the classes.

Previously I'd only seen Noel Coward in The Italian Job in his later years. Here he's in his prime, and looks quite believeable as a posh naval officer.

Robert remarked that if you grew up with such depictions, all of a sudden Terry Jones' women characters appear a) much more familiar and b) much funnier.

I feel like I just learned a great deal about Englishness, in about half an hour.

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