Prime of Miss Jean Brodie, The (1968)

Every five years or so Hollywood dusts off the old “teacher picture” formula, packages it with new wrapping and sends it out to inspire a new generation of audiences to appreciate the plight of educators. It generally involves a maverick instructor bringing life lessons and light to an oppressed or jaded class of misfits while challenging the rigid and humorless authority of the school administration. Add a pinch of job insecurity, some irate parents, a shy yet blossoming youngster, cook for ninety minutes, make $35 million, and wait for family conscious TV programmers to knock on the door.

It is unfortunate that the majority of films dealing with education are so easily synopsized. The underpaid, overworked, and often unfulfilling jobs of our educators deserve a slightly more realistic gaze. The once noble profession of teaching in many school districts has been systematically reduced to inglorious daycare.

One film of this dramatic subgenre does not so easily bend to inspirational triteness. 1968’s The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie has all the earmarks of such films as Goodbye Mr. Chips, To Sir, With Love, Mr. Holland’s Opus and Dead Poet’s Society but there are no dewy eyed youngsters standing in ovation on their desktops shouting “Captain, My Captain” at the end of Miss Brodie’s semester. The film is too deep and smart for that. Suffice to say, if there were a school shooting at the academy where Miss Brodie taught, for a myriad of reasons, she would probably be the first one targeted.

Muriel Spark’s 1961 source novel (originally published in New Yorker magazine) is a semi-autobiographical recollection of her educational years at an all-girl’s school in Edinburgh, Scotland in the 1930s. It was adapted for the stage in 1966 by playwright/screenwriter Jay Presson Allen (Marnie, Cabaret, Deathtrap) and later modified for this 1968 screen version. Allen changed the novel’s subjective approach (seen from the viewpoint of the “Brodie girls”, the teacher’s selected clique) to an objective character study of the eccentric, narcissistic instructor.

Vanessa Redgrave originally realized the role of Miss Brodie in the West End stage production. The character is an actor’s wet dream. Quirky, flamboyant, endlessly egocentric and confident, Brodie is tailor made for any actress (particularly British) who never got to cut their chops playing Auntie Mame. It is a scene chewing, monster of a character that combines intelligence with naiveté and beauty with repulsiveness. The role simultaneously elicits schadenfreude and pathos.

Maggie Smith’s Oscar winning performance is her grandest ever. Best known today for her role as Minerva McGonagall in the Harry Potter films, she began as a serious dramatic actress on the stage in the ‘50s. Her successful early film roles in The V.I.P.s and an Oscar nominated turn as Desdemona in Laurence Olivier’s Othello (1965) never challenged her predilection for comedy. She would again win an Oscar in 1979 for her supporting role in California Suite, but she has been cautious and predictable ever since. She has always preferred the theater to film and it has shown not only in her choice of movie roles but also in the mannered, prudish approach she constantly brings to them. This reticence toward film acting has kept her in the shadow of similar performers like Katherine Hepburn, Vanessa Redgrave, Judi Dench and to a lesser degree, Julie Christie. Her natural flamboyancy is often too broad for the big screen and when toned down, it loses its vibrancy. This is why Jean Brodie remains her crowning achievement in the cinema. Her priggish, theatrical style is perfect for the character. She has never been more at home on the big screen.

The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie is essentially a character study of egocentrism masked as altruism and the dangers posed by a person (teacher) whose self-aggrandizement often negatively affects the young minds she is hired to nurture.

At first, you fall in love with Brodie. She is the teacher you always desired, immersed in poetry, beauty, art and the more refined aspects of living and learning. Her splashy, colorful outfits, her appreciation of aesthetics, and her commitment to her work transform the dull gray, muted atmosphere of the all girl’s school. She is a radiant jewel in the coal bin of rote education. She tells her pupils that, “Safety does not come first. Goodness, truth, and beauty” do.

Her personal indiscretions and pomposity become more apparent, however. She has been carrying on an unconsummated love affair with the school’s art professor (played by Robert Stephens, her off-screen husband) who is married with six children. On select weekends, she brings her “Brodie Girls” to the summer home of the school’s choir instructor (Gordon Jackson) with whom she is having an affair. She touts the achievements of Benito Mussolini and Francisco Franco to her class and has a curious love for fascism (although many from America and the Commonwealth shared this affection at the time). She pushes for one of her girls to have an affair with the art teacher for vicarious purposes and she continually talks of her current “prime” of life in order to stanch her increasing sense of aging and obsolescence.

Sympathy for her is maintained by the constant threat of dismissal, brought about by the school’s martinet head mistress played by Celia Johnson (Brief Encounter). Brodie’s impassioned speeches about her professional dedication, mixed with a lovable coy humor, keep her character in the realm of ambiguity and likeability. It is only in her more selfish machinations and unrepentant egoism that the viewer’s loyalty begins to wane.

Director Ronald Neame began his film career as a cameraman, most notably as an assistant on Alfred Hitchcock’s Blackmail, the first sound film from England. He worked as a cinematographer throughout the ‘30s until teaming up with David Lean for 1942’s In Which We Serve. Their friendship led to Neame producing three of Lean’s pictures; Great Expectations (1946), Oliver Twist (1948) and The Passionate Friends (1949). He also was an uncredited producer of Lean’s Brief Encounter in 1945, one of the finest British films of all time. A break with Lean in the ‘50s, and a desire to direct, led Neame to an unfortunately haphazard career as a film helmsman. Highlights include The Man Who Never Was (1956), The Horse’s Mouth (1958), The Odessa File (1974) and for pure popularity sake The Poseidon Adventure in 1972. None of these films approached the level of artistry that he found in the collaborations with Lean and his status as a director is marginal at best.

However, Neame’s workmanlike approach on The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie is sensible and unobtrusive. He allows Smith to shine brightly and rightfully focuses the attention on Brodie whether on camera or off. His best work in the film is with the child actors. Pamela Franklin (The Innocents, The Nanny) gives a wonderful performance as Brodie’s headstrong teen confidante Sandy, a role which takes her from precocious schoolgirl to calculating nemesis. The four “Brodie Girls” mature from ages twelve to seventeen during the film with barely a hitch. Giggling and gossipy early in the film, their physical and emotional maturity by the end is full circle.

Ultimately, The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie transcends the typical “teacher” picture and has at its core a brave and somewhat disturbing message. It veers away from celebrating the championed, misunderstood instructors of similar fare and poses the difficult question of how much influence our teachers should have on our children. As instruction, not indoctrination, is our goal.