Unman, Wittering & Zigo

Saddled with a title that sounds like some sort of obscure experimental art film, Unman, Wittering and Zigo (1971) is nothing less than a tense, gripping, fascinating piece of filmmaking for ¾ of its running time.  That’s no small feat; most movies can’t even manage a good first act.  So we should all makes allowances for director John Mackenzie’s British prep school-set thriller – based on a 1958 radio drama – that pits an idealistic teacher against a classroom full of students who may or may not have murdered their previous instructor.  

As a mid-year replacement at the Chancery School, John Ebony (David Hemming) sees the opportunity as a big break in his teaching career.  That is until the students refuse to cooperate, confessing to the murder of his predecessor and threatening him with the same fate unless they can come to an “arrangement.”  Ebony’s attempts to report the alleged crime fall on deaf ears – even his wife doesn’t buy the story – so he begrudgingly falls into line, ostensibly allowing the inmates to run the asylum.  As they jockey for a position of power, each seems to be waiting for the other to go one step too far.

 

Mackenzie’s film does a great job selling the desperate reality of Ebony’s situation.  The script cleverly closes up plot holes and turns the screws enough to convince an audience that a classful of 16-year-old co-conspirators is, not only feasible, but downright frightening.  And Hemming’s turns in one heck of a  performance as the cornered educator who has nowhere to turn.  Shot with a bleak, restrained style that builds on Lindsay Anderson’s If (1968) and serves as a bridge to Alan Clarke’s Scum (1979), Unman, Wittering and Zigo is equally unforgiving of the status quo that has created these public-school monsters.

 

But that’s also one of the film’s major flaws: a third act subjective U-turn that seems to place the blame for all this bad behavior on the rigid establishment behind-the-scenes.  The theme works, but the logic doesn’t.  And it sends the film out with a whimper rather than a bang.  Disappointing?  For sure, but it doesn’t detract from a wickedly smart and subtly terrifying movie on the whole.  Move this one up to the top of the viewing pile.

 

Arrow Video’s Blu-ray doesn’t mention any sort of restoration work, but the presentation is top-notch nonetheless.  No fuzzy ‘70s photography here; it all looks sharp as a tack.  Extras include an audio commentary (featuring regular participant Kim Newman), featurettes with the cast members, a video appreciation from Matthew Sweet (not the ‘90s rocker), plus a fold-out poster and collector’s booklet.

 

 

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