Much like The 400 Blows which followed a young misfit coping with society, coming to terms with the outside world that doesn’t understand it, and the post-war milieu of it all, 1961’s A Taste of Honey follows a similar story of fledgling yearning, misunderstanding, searching, rebellion, and ending on uncertainty.
Much like The 400 Blows which followed a young misfit coping with society, coming to terms with the outside world that doesn’t understand it, and the post-war milieu of it all, 1961’s A Taste of Honey follows a similar story of fledgling yearning, misunderstanding, searching, rebellion, and ending on uncertainty.
The young playwright, Shelagh Delaney, adapted the film from her own play, which was already a big success in England while also showcasing a view of poverty and the lower class not often seen. The film was challenging the status quo of the time, as director Tony Richardson’s uncompromising vision was as emotional as it was socially political, and brought a newfound voyeuristic view of filmmaking that challenged conventions but gave much needed intimacy with it’s cinéma vérité.
A Taste of Honey focused not only one unique girl’s coming of age, but at large it was also the working class’s day-to-day struggle that informed many of the film’s trials and tribulations. Not only is our central character Jo (Rita Tushingham) being raised by a narcissist, but a single mother narcissist named Helen (Dora Bryan) who is often distant and negligent. Jo is told that her presumed dead father was “daft” and never seems to give a clear answer to Jo about her about what exactly happened to him. One gets the sense that he may have simply just vanished or walked away. When Jo and Helen are relegated to a new place, Jo states that the roof is leaking. “No it’s not,” Helen says with a drink in her hand, “its condensation” she sternly puts it. Having no father in the home meant that Jo’s mother would either have to work full time or find a well off suitor to provide. She does so eventually (the great Robert Stephens plays annoyed so well), but he is not too terribly fond of Jo.
Jo’s lack of love and tomfoolery (she’s quite unladylike in that she’s a class clown) sends her out looking for somewhere to belong and someone to actually care for her. That yearning is the emotional core of A Taste of Honey and elevates it beyond schmaltz.
While talented, Jo isn’t a typically beauty (her haircut doesn’t help), but with her own charms she finds a suiter quite easily enough. She attracts a young black sailor named Jimmy (Paul Danquah with a charming Liverpool accent) who is routinely sweet to her and gives her a ring to wear around her neck. Jo and Jimmy quickly fall in love while the film provides enough genuine tenderness to satisfy this short teenage love affair. Jimmy’s shipping out is only exasperated by the discovery that Jo is pregnant and without anybody to confide in or take care of her.
Jo, tired of her mother’s neglect, eventually gets her own place and starts working in a shoe shop. She eventually meets another young boy named Geoffrey (Murray Melvin) who is quite different. Geoffrey is kind, caring, and “the big sister” that she never had. Geoffrey is also obviously gay but still closeted. It’s never explicitly stated, but still heavily implied. Geoffrey wants to take care of Jo’s unborn child (he even visits a nurse to borrow a practice baby) and the two actually make a great team. It’s a lot of confusing feeling happening but also serves as the film’s strongest bind and enduring relationship.
It isn’t until Jo’s mother returns into her life that again is sabotaged and the honey suddenly becomes bitter again. A Taste of Honey is held up by its bevy charm and humor despite its dark and story. As bitterly sweet and swell it can be at times, that evocation of fleeting innocence is never far away. Rarely do films featuring young protagonists have the nuance and scope to touch on the deep frustration of growing up but also sexuality, race, and class all within the forefront.
The Criterion Collection brings this milestone of British New Wave to the collection for first time on Blu-Ray and DVD. With that it boasts a beautiful restoration, a 4K digital transfer with uncompressed monaural soundtrack that looks and sounds gorgeous. The black and white are really contrasted and fresh with great details on the outdoor portions with lots of beautiful dark alleyways and overpasses.
The supplemental material is extensive with interviews with actors Rita Tushingham and Murray Melvin, an audio interview with director and co-screenwriter Tony Richardson from the 1962 Cannes Film Festival, a television interview with playwright Shelagh Delaney from 1960, a 1998 interview with cinematographer Walter Lassally, Momma Don’t Allow, a 1956 Free Cinema short film by Richardson and shot by Lassally, Remaking British Theater: Joan Littlewood and “A Taste of Honey,” a new piece about the film’s stage origins, featuring an interview with theater scholar Kate Dorney, and an essay by film scholar Colin MacCabe. It’s a lot of material and the transfer is fantastic. A Taste of Honey is not nearly as highly regarded outside of its genre, but is a stellar release and film onto itself and highly recommended.
A Taste of Honey
United Kingdom (1961)
Tony Richardson
Spine #829
Available on Blu-Ray, DVD, and iTunes
