As the opening strains of Cat Stevens singing 'But I Might Die Tonight'
drift effectively over tracking shots of red water pipes, interspersed
with the sight of principal actor John Moulder Brown cycling through
a suburban not-quite-London wasteland that could be either South Norwood
or the borders of Margate and Broadstairs by my reckoning (according
to the IMDB it's Fulham, but I'm not convinced this refers to the exteriors),
it becomes apparent that the film we are about to see is something that
could have only come from a certain era of British film making. Yes,
one of those films.
DEEP END was Polish émigré Skolimowki's first English
language film, and as such set out his stock-in trade, establishing
the themes for which he would become known. Principally these are alienation,
obsession, a skewed view of the world from an outsider's viewpoint,
and the inability to relate to or understand everyday events that others
would take for granted. Although the initial two or three scenes, imbued
with the fascinatingly washed-out colour scheme peculiar to British
films of the time (cf David Greene's I START COUNTING or Lyndsay Shonteff's
PERMISSIVE) set a tone which belongs firmly in the director's engagingly
bleak mise-en-scene, there is no hint whatsoever at what sort of film
we are watching or where it will lead, which makes finding out all the
more fascinating.
Obviously a film set in a swimming baths (the sort of thing that could
really only have come from 65-75 Britain) will feature plenty of water-based
imagery, but in this case the 'deep end' referred to is not merely the
one in which its two protagonists spend most of their time, but the
one into which the reluctant hero, 16 year old school leaver Mike, has
been figuratively thrown - the world of work, adulthood and sexual attraction
- none of which he seems emotionally or mentally prepared for. He is
a fish out of water, but is pushed in the water repeatedly throughout
the 90-minute running time: he seems outwardly normal but is obviously
troubled by issues, none of which are ever satisfactorily explained,
but then again who said that films had to provide you with all the answers
on a plate? Skolimowski's skill (later amply demonstrated in THE SHOUT
and MOONLIGHTING) lies in presenting the viewer with more and more questions,
many of which he probably hasn't even thought of himself. A perfect
example is the usage in certain crowd scenes of German actors dubbed
into English alongside seasoned UK performers, so that dubbing contrasts
with naturally synchronised voices and creates an uneven babble that
blindsides Mike as much as the viewer. This disjointed, uneven approach
to both movement and dialogue recurs throughout - the depiction of confusion
through repetition, non-cooperation (from the still sexually powerful
Diana Dors' cameo as a customer with a penchant for smothering young
boys with her buxom figure, through to the wounded prostitute's refusal
to hand back a cardboard cut-out to her unwilling client). As we view
the film through Mike's eyes, his confusion is ours and vice versa:
we even feel that we share his neuroses. Everything that interrupts
his vision or his concentration interrupts ours, an unwelcome distraction
in a non-linear world.
We share his irritation at every deviation from his path, such as the
sound of giggling children, or the overtures made to him by the baffling
Dors, past her prime at this point but still a strong presence of womanliness.
But most of all we centre on his inability to engage the attention of
the heroine, Sue (Jane Asher), and it is this unrequited love that forms
the core of the film. Not much older then Mike herself, but already
a fully fledged sexually active woman (and tempered by a bleak cynicism
which we later discover is due to the means by which her innocence has
been lost), Sue is not only everything Mike wants, but everything he
wants to be - confident, outgoing and above all an adult. Or at least
that's how she appears on the surface - a cynical viewer, particularly
one well versed in British arthouse and exploitation cinema, would draw
their own conclusions about someone who chooses to date men obviously
much older than herself that she clearly has little affection for but
who hold positions of wealth and security, and sure enough in a later
scene she reveals to Mike that she is fatherless. Although by this token,
it should be pointed out that her unnamed fiancée (faded pop
idol/pirate DJ Christopher Sandford, who had already found immortality
among genre fans in Pete Walker's similarly bleak COOL IT CAROL and
would soon further the cause with DIE SCREAMING MARIANNE) actually comes
across as one of the most sympathetic of the film's characters; his
hangdog expression giving a natural credence to his long-suffering demeanour.
Nowhere is this better demonstrated than in the infamous 'cinema scene'
where his obliviousness and apathy allows the interloping Mike to fondle
his wayward beau from the seat behind hers: note that she not only allows
this to happen, but quite voluntarily turns and openly snogs her supposed
molester the minute that the now irate Sandford runs to fetch the manager.
The fact that the couple are sitting together in a cinema watching a
sex film could be telling in itself, but to be honest this was 1969,
and if the likes of Ray Selfe are to be believed, then this was quite
the norm for the times!! The fact that Mike manages to get into the
cinema when he is quite clearly underage merely by dint of wearing a
suit, and that he gets off so lightly for his crime, never mind that
a street policeman falls so easily for the teenager's age-old ploy of
‘this man tried to touch me up' when Sandford tries to report
him five minutes later, amply demonstrates that even in a changing world
where people's minds were opening, many doors were still closed.
At this point in the proceedings, we are still supposed to sympathise
with Mike, but it is fast becoming obvious that there is something quite
radically wrong with our supposed 'hero' - his viewing of Asher undressing
through a keyhole is enough to tell us that his interest has become
obsession very quickly, as is his deliberately setting off the fire
alarm. If he were 'like other boys' he would have easily caved in to
Dors and her amorous advances, and he wouldn't be so overtly protective
of Sue, who is far more capable than he of looking after herself, when
the local lads in the baths start undressing and making overtures towards
her. However, for all of his naiveté and detached otherness,
he still loves football, and has obviously been attractive enough in
his own right to chalk up one ex girlfriend, Cathy (Anita Lochner, later
to find a career as a German voice dub for the likes Of Miou Miou and
Isabelle Adjani), who turns up quite early on and makes it clear in
no uncertain terms that her desire for him hasn't subsided yet - not
that he responds, he is already too lost in his obsession. On the other
side of the coin, it's never made clear whether or not Sue has any feelings,
either sexual or emotional, for Mike, but she is more than willing to
lead him on and use him as a bargaining tool in her rows with Sandford,
so from this standpoint it's difficult for the viewer to sympathise
directly with her.
