White coat of socialism – Weekend

In a special film program accompanying the exhibition “In the language of rules and exceptions. Science and Art”, organized by the Jewish Museum and Tolerance Center in cooperation with the Polytechnic Museum, will show Alexander Mackendrick’s 1951 classic British comedy The Man in the White Suit. At the request of the Weekend film program curator Egor Sennikov explains how the film reflected the problems of post-war British society and why watch this film today.

Quirky but charming chemist Sidney Stratton (Alec Guinness) creates an entirely new fabric that won’t stain, tear, wrinkle or appear to show no wear at all. And yet it is not amenable to coloring, and therefore all things made from it literally shine white. However, no one likes this wonderful invention in the end: large fabric manufacturers understand that the new material will deprive them of turnover, and factory workers are afraid of layoffs. Such is the plot of the ironic British comedy The Man in the White Suit, made at Ealing Studios in 1951.

The setting for The Man in the White Suit is post-war Britain. The United Kingdom has just created a national health system, nationalized the railways, the coal industry and much of the energy system. All this became possible thanks to the victory of Labor in the parliamentary elections of 1945: party leader Prime Minister Clement Attlee promised to build a “shining city on a hill” – the ideological basis for these plans was the report of the Labor leader William Beveridge, written in 1942 and describing the principles by which you can build a welfare state in Britain.

Historians and journalists would later refer to the five post-war years, when Labor pursued domestic politics in a thoroughly socialist spirit, as the birth of the post-war consensus (or compromise): the upper classes of British society agreed to cede some power, authority and resources to the middle and lower classes, simplifying access to vital resources for education and health. It cannot be said that funds in society began to be distributed fairly, but certainly more fairly. But there were enough dissenters, both on the left and on the right. The conservatives were worried that the movement towards the working and middle class was dangerous and would inevitably lead to the restructuring of the entire society (and, judging by the fact that the Conservative Party returned to power already in the early elections in 1951, this point of view was shared by many). The left—both moderates and radicals—also found cause for discontent.

At this time, London’s Ealing Studios became one of the main film studios in the country, which was acquired by producer Michael Balcon, one of the key players in the history of British cinematography, before World War II. Under Balcon, the studio found its own theme and style – irony and comedy became its main weapons, and the view that they looked at both the war and the post-war society coincided with the view of its audience – the middle class and the most politically literate workers. This is an ironic, sometimes even sarcastic look at the establishment, supporting the image of “good old England”, whose inhabitants are sharp-tongued and always ready to stand up for themselves.

And in this series of Ealing social comedies, The Man in the White Suit stands out for its joyless cynicism. Here, the protagonist turns out to be not just an opponent of the establishment, not a “cunningly inventive fool” (like many heroes of other studio comedies like “Pimlico Pass” or “Whiskey Galore” in 1949), but an idealist whose idealism is not needed by anyone.

The new fabric – sleek, light, stain-resistant and wrinkle-resistant – hints at the new social fabric of the post-war consensus in Britain. Brilliant ideas to transform society collide with reality—and that clash does not bode well for ideas. The new fabric is good – but if it is put into production, then too much will have to be changed. With social reorganization in the end, in Britain it turned out exactly the same – excessive radicalism frightened, and inaction was criticized. As a result, the most fanatical radicals were pushed not even by conformists, but simply by moderate and cautious ones.

Mackendrick’s film was well received by audiences and critics (and is still considered an important British classic), and the screenplay, which was based on the play by the director’s cousin, Scottish playwright Roger MacDougall, was nominated for an Oscar. For MacDougall, the early 1950s generally turned out to be a time of short but bright fame – his career was cut short by serious health problems. After The Man in the White Suit, McKendrick directed two more successful and iconic comedies for the studio, Maggie (1954) and The Ladykillers (1955), on Ealing, after which he went to Hollywood, where he made one of the darkest films of the decade. Sweet Smell of Success (1957). By that time, the time when the genre of social comedy was in demand was already ending in Britain – only a few years had passed, and the BBC bought the Ealing studio.

At the end of Mackendrick’s film, Stratton’s white suit of perfect fabric falls apart to the general delight of workers and entrepreneurs. The inventor goes somewhere far away, hoping that someday he will be able to carry out a chemical reaction correctly and succeed – but the viewer guesses that his dreams are hardly destined to come true. A similar fate awaited the British post-war consensus: it was not at all as strong as it seemed to its creators, and was eventually canceled by the neo-liberal policies of Margaret Thatcher. The time has come for completely different ideals and views.

Jewish Museum and Tolerance Center, April 23, 18.00

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