L-Shaped Room

The opening credits of The L-Shaped Room (1962), in which our main character tours the seedier side of London in search of an affordable flat, visually places the film comfortably within the "Kitchen Sink" category: a creative movement that shifted the spotlight to working-class protagonists struggling against social forces beyond their control. From domestic drama to controversial political issues to the mundane workings of every day life, the glamorized escapism of Hollywood was eschewed in favor of the harsh realities of British life. But director Bryan Forbes, despite ticking all the necessary boxes, manages to keep a toe in more traditional waters. While the film certainly has its share of "angry young men," there's an underlying message of acceptance and forgiveness that softens the blow.

Pregnant and alone, Jane Fosset (Leslie Caron) rents a room in the only boarding house she can afford, populated by an odd - but not entirely off-putting - cast of characters. While she debates what to do abut the baby, her new neighbors slowly insert themselves into her lives, including Johnny (Brock Peters), a helpful black jazz musician, Mavis (Cicely Courtneidge), an aging entertainer, and Toby (Tom Bell), a frustrated writer who falls in love with Jane at first sight.

A shameful experience at the abortion clinic - and a fruitless meeting with her ex - convinces Jane to keep the baby almost out of spite. But she still can't bring herself to reveal the secret to Toby, who by now has become her lover. When the truth comes out, it tears their relationship apart, revealing Toby to anything but the open-minded, anti-establishment romantic he pretended to be. And leaving Jane right back at square one.

The L-Shaped Room deals with abortion, prostitution, homosexuality and racism without hiding behind any skirts; it's all right there on the screen in gloriously grainy black-and-white. How this all got past the censors is a bit of a mystery (Julie Kirgo suggests in her liner notes that the eventual pro-life message might have won them over) but it makes for a smart, sweet and tragic story, one that alternately emphasizes the best and worst of humanity. Jane's relationship with her surrogate family can be a bit cutesy and convenient at times, but when it really counts the film doesn't flinch.

Actress Leslie Caron, whose early career never hinted at this sort of role, is wrung though an emotional wringer of self-doubt, sexism, pity, discrimination and disgust. She's got the audience on her side, but it's still a challenging part to play without going over the top. Forbes' close-ups bring out the subtlest expressions in her carefully controlled performance while the supporting cast provides the connective tissue, turning the tenement into a microcosm of British society. It can all be rather obvious, but it doesn't make it less engaging. The L-Shaped Room proves that there's enough drama in people's ordinary lives to fill up the big screen...and then some.

Twilight Time's 3000-copy limited edition Blu-ray presents an incredibly attractive hi-def transfer along with an isolated music & effects track (James Bond composed John Barry contributes some recognizably jazzy interludes), audio commentary with TT regulars Lem Dobbs, Julie Kirgo and Nick Redman, along with the original trailer and aforementioned liner notes.

**As an aside for fans of The Smiths: the title track from The Queen is Dead samples a scene from the film in which the cast sings "Take Me Back to Dear Old Blighty."