From the play by J. M. Barrie. It's not Oscar Wilde but it's in the ball park. There are some cute lines. When the master of the rigidly structured English household (Parker), in a whimsical and strictly temporary pursuit of something resembling equality, orders the servants to attend tea at four o'clock, the butler Crichton (Moore) objects, but Parker snaps back: "I'll soon show you that we're all equal around here. Now do what I tell you!" You have to like Cecil Parker. He brightened the British screens for twenty years -- that stutter, those rolling eyes, the head cocked to the side. Nobody projected embarrassed befuddlement better.
Kenneth Moore is the head butler or whatever the title is -- the maître d'armes or the sommelier -- is far more committed to the maintenance of the proper roles. He observes all the formalities. The afternoon tea to which Parker has invited the servants turns into a complete disaster and, with respect, Moore suggests a vacation in the South Seas on the family yacht. You know, until the scandal blows over. Agreed.
But the yacht sinks in the middle of a howling storm and guests and crew rush into the lifeboats indiscriminately. When the storm clears, we follow the lifeboat with half a dozen mixed survivors, Moore, the maid Diane Cilento, the nobleman Parker and three or four other aristos who object that Moore and Cilento should be in the staff boat.
Before long they land on the sort of uninhabited tropical island that now exists only in movies. (Too many people with private yachts these days, all searching for uninhabited tropical islands.) At first, despite the lush vegetation, beach, and sunshine, it looks a little bleak. They are far from the usual shipping lanes. They might even have to stay all night. "Don't give up, my lady," says Moore to Sally Anne Howes. "How DARE you!", she replies.
The problem is that Moore seems to know how to do everything, such as start a fire with spectacles, while the rest know nothing. Two years pass. A memorial to the supposedly deceased is dedicated in England. But on the island, no one seems to care about being rescued anymore. Moore is now the master and everyone acknowledges it. He's called "Guv" and all the girls have their eyes on him. His erstwhile employer, "Daddy," brings him seaweed tea in the morning.
It's a happy group -- all bronzed and plump, and everyone in his proper place, except that the roles are now reversed, as in Lina Wertmuller's "Swept Away." Diane Cilento is blond, beautiful, and has a mellow throaty voice that sounds somehow organic and ribald. Sally Anne Howes is powerfully attractive too, in a fragile way. She's no longer the pretty teen-ager of "Dead of Night" so one can admire her slender legs without feeling ashamed. It's a touching moment when a ship is sighted and they must reluctantly light the beacon fire. It all ends happily on an elegiac note.
Kenneth Moore is the head butler or whatever the title is -- the maître d'armes or the sommelier -- is far more committed to the maintenance of the proper roles. He observes all the formalities. The afternoon tea to which Parker has invited the servants turns into a complete disaster and, with respect, Moore suggests a vacation in the South Seas on the family yacht. You know, until the scandal blows over. Agreed.
But the yacht sinks in the middle of a howling storm and guests and crew rush into the lifeboats indiscriminately. When the storm clears, we follow the lifeboat with half a dozen mixed survivors, Moore, the maid Diane Cilento, the nobleman Parker and three or four other aristos who object that Moore and Cilento should be in the staff boat.
Before long they land on the sort of uninhabited tropical island that now exists only in movies. (Too many people with private yachts these days, all searching for uninhabited tropical islands.) At first, despite the lush vegetation, beach, and sunshine, it looks a little bleak. They are far from the usual shipping lanes. They might even have to stay all night. "Don't give up, my lady," says Moore to Sally Anne Howes. "How DARE you!", she replies.
The problem is that Moore seems to know how to do everything, such as start a fire with spectacles, while the rest know nothing. Two years pass. A memorial to the supposedly deceased is dedicated in England. But on the island, no one seems to care about being rescued anymore. Moore is now the master and everyone acknowledges it. He's called "Guv" and all the girls have their eyes on him. His erstwhile employer, "Daddy," brings him seaweed tea in the morning.
It's a happy group -- all bronzed and plump, and everyone in his proper place, except that the roles are now reversed, as in Lina Wertmuller's "Swept Away." Diane Cilento is blond, beautiful, and has a mellow throaty voice that sounds somehow organic and ribald. Sally Anne Howes is powerfully attractive too, in a fragile way. She's no longer the pretty teen-ager of "Dead of Night" so one can admire her slender legs without feeling ashamed. It's a touching moment when a ship is sighted and they must reluctantly light the beacon fire. It all ends happily on an elegiac note.