The Remains of the Day has a shocking lack of fiery explosions. Seriously. I mean, like, I watched the whole film – two hours and fifteen minutes start to finish – and we’re talking, nothing. No booms, bangs, pops, or blow-ups. Not a one. Just a bunch of uppity types serving tea and such to other uppity types in an antique house. And let me tell you folks … it’s friggin’ awesome.
WHAT IT’S ABOUT: Set in 1958, we learn that a former United States Congressman named Mr. Jack Lewis (Christopher Reeves) has bought a ginormous stately manor in merry old England called Darlington Hall. Thing is … the house has bit of a sour history to it, the previous owner (James Fox), recently deceased, a Nazi sympathizer, who never was able to shed that mistake in the years after the war. It killed him in fact, the sorrow and regret all too much. Lewis finds the estate a little rundown but still quite prestigious, and settles in for retirement. In his employ is the butler, Mr. Stevens (Anthony Hopkins), a man who has been in that position for decades, knowing the house like no other. However, the place has been without a proper staff for some time and with the new owner, he hopes to rebuild to its former glory (one can’t keep serving burnt toast). To do that, Stevens decides to seek out and rehire the fondly remembered Miss Kenton (Emma Thompson), the housekeeper from twenty years earlier, who is – you saw this coming – a woman he long harbored feelings for but never once gave into temptation. Time to see if that’s a mix up he can make right.
REVIEW: We don’t spend much time in 1958. The film quickly flashes back to the early thirties when Miss Kenton is first brought on staff and begins work with Stevens to keep the very active house in tip-top shape. It is also where an unrequited love between the two gets its start, she a passionate woman ready for exploring her emotions with Stevens as he shelters himself behind the think walls of his service to the home. She can feel his affection for her but is consistently turned away by his refusal to warm in the slightest chance of a romance. And this is the part in the movie where you’re sort of obligated to lean in and shout at the screen something like, “Don’t you dare let this girl go, Mr. Stevens.” Or maybe, “No job’s worth losing a Miss Kenton, Mr. Stevens!” Or, like me, something simpler like, “Dumbass.” (You pass on Emma Thompson and we’re havin’ words.)
Based on the book of the same name by Kazuo Ishiguro, director James Ivory crafts a monumentally affecting period piece that avoids the high drama one might expect in such a film and replaces it with a silence and subtlety as sharp as an industrial razor. This is a story that has the rise of Nazism and its threat worldwide shadowed by the powerful relationship between two people caught in the middle of it who are, by the very definition of their jobs, left standing on the sidelines in silent, voiceless observation, she reaching for hopes of a simple life of marriage and family, he, bound by the traditions and legacy of his work and an unwavering dedication to it. This leaves him a highly skilled and respected figure but entirely incapable of expression, service to others all he knows. Together they seem eternally apart, and as such, a tragedy. Why you gotta be so cold, Mr. Stevens?
I want to talk about the small things, mostly because that is what this film is, a collection of small moments that when viewed as a whole paint an extraordinary image. We learn early on that Stevens is the consummate professional, a man greatly adept at his position (a scene with a horse is one that says everything you need to know about who and what Stevens has become), keenly aware of every single need within the house and running it like a well-oiled machine. He is also a proud man, which in some ways, as expected, creates problems. When he hires his aging father (Peter Vaughan) – once as acclaimed a butler as his son – to join the busy household, it is discovered that the elder man is not able to perform his duties as he should, something that Stevens flat out seems blind to addressing, instead making excuses and hiding mistakes to keep his father employed. It’s a whole different spin on daddy issues.
While this might seem a distraction to the story mounting between Kenton and Stevens, it reveals tenfold in visuals that we thankfully avoid in exposition; a son as rigid to his work as he is incapable of displaying a thread of humanity. Because so, he is doomed to isolation and hollowness, his work ironically the reason he is without companionship and his only salvation in letting that go. That’s a pretty vicious circle and it’s both hard and entertaining to watch.
While the entire cast, including a robust performance from Reeves in a limited role, delivers theater-level quality on screen, it is Thompson and Hopkins who work the most magic. These are two of the best in class at this kind of thing and boy oh boy do they kindle fire from the thinnest spark. What’s so potent about this is how the story refuses to be about the overt sexual dynamics, something many have already done so often before (with some very, very good at it). Instead, it is about the chemistry of love, a word that feels somewhat inauthentic for its overuse and commercialization but one I can find no substitute for. There’s a remarkable moment in all this when Miss Kenton finds a vulnerable Mr. Stevens in his private study, reading a book. She gently but purposefully weights her very female presence in the room upon him, seeking to gain entrance to the man sheltered inside his suddenly transparent shell. What follows is agonizing and flat out great storytelling. This, dear readers, is smart filmmaking, where the director trusts his audience like so few do these days. It also makes the end all the more, well, honest.
CREDITS ROLL: So no. No one gets blowed up. No car chases or gunshots either. A French guy does have sore feet though, so I dunno. Action? Either way. Doesn’t matter. The Remains of the Day is a powerful and sometimes traumatizing movie without the need for punches and shoot ’em ups. It’s a jarringly well-acted experience with a delicious sense of place and time, its attention to detail and devotion to its characters a work of art. You’ll feel rewarded.