In 1966, John Lennon ill-advisedly said in an interview that The Beatles were more popular than Jesus. He also said, “Christianity will go. It will vanish and shrink.” This did not go down well with the public, especially in the Bible belt of America. For a while, mass burnings of the band’s records were a thing.
I can’t help but think this episode had to be on the mind of those behind 1967 movie Privilege. Paul Jones, formerly of the band Manfred Mann, plays a pop star whose management decides he will be the new face for the church, an organization so in decline that projections have determined only clergy will be in attendance by 1990.
The resulting spectacles are a weird combination of church service and concert. There are also some elements of sporting events, for whatever reason, with cheerleaders. I found this especially odd in this British film, as I always thought cheerleaders were something uniquely American. There are also some overtly disturbing elements, such as a flaming cross and marchers holding aloft staffs in a manner which can only recall Nazi imagery. There is also something I believe was meant to be intentionally funny, and that is the row of wheelchair-bound people seated immediately in front of the stage, in hopes they would be affected by the performance in the manner of faith healing.
This stadium event does not seem as bizarre to me as that which Jones originally achieved worldwide fame. As we see in the first act of the film, Jones does more performance art than anything. Supposedly inspired by his time behind bars, he is roughed up by actors playing police officers. He’s handcuffed as they slam him in a metal cage. He does a plaintive song while banging his wrists so hard they end up bloodied.
When his captors let him out, he appears to really tear into them. Women in the audience even storm the stage and also appear to attack the officers. I wondered if that happens every time one of these performances happen, also whether the actors were really wailing on each other. It sure looks like nobody is holding back. Also, if this is the entirety of each performance, I think the audience should be rioting to get their money back instead of assaulting actors playing police officers.
One aspect of this I didn’t notice expect is it is a mockumentary, preceding This Is Spinal Tap by nearly two decades. Through narration, we learn about fans so dedicated they have his name tattooed all over their bodies. We also learn that, in this near-future, “there is now a coalition government in Britain which has asked all entertainment agencies to usefully divert the violence of youth, keep them happy, off the streets and out of politics.” To keep consumers spending, there is also a chain of stores, Steve Dream Palaces, with over 300 locations in the UK alone.
There will be interviews with the many handlers and assorted hangers-on in Jones’s orbit. Music publisher Max Bacon is making a fortune off the boy, which surprises me, given he does all of one song in his routine. Press officer Mark London seems have an increasing concern for how his important client is being treated. William Job, as the head of the corporation, is also considered, though he also regards Jones as a commodity which needs to keep producing: “His well-being, physical and mental, is of concern to us. The last time I saw him, he seemed nervous and withdrawn.”
He is right to be concerned, and Jones looks to be in nearly physical pain throughout the runtime. His feeling he is nothing more than a packaged good is confirmed by manager Jeremy Child: “He does not belong to himself, he belongs to the world; therefore, he no longer has any right to himself.”
Jones tests the extent of control he has over his environment through little rebellions, like a gourmet lunch at Job’s country estate where he insists on having hot chocolate instead of wine and lobsters. He insists the others do the same. The only one who offers any resistance is London, but even he caves in the end.
This infuriates Jones and he vents to Jean Shrimpton, an artist with whom he has seemingly his only genuine relationship. She had been hired to make a portrait of him, and is intrigued by the emptiness she sees in his eyes. Take note, guys, a vacant stare apparently draws comely young women like Shrimpton, a legendary model in real life. I am calling such a look The Keanu.
There are interesting ideas here, and the mockumentary approach is way ahead of its time, yet this was largely an unsatisfying experience. My disbelief that Jones’s act could be so popular makes it difficult to accept anything which happens after it. The bit I found completely believable is a laughable commercial Jones is roped into making to encourage each Briton to eat six apples a day, as there is a huge surplus of the fruit. I was reminded of a similar real-life parallel with the 1969 album by UK band The Apple, a release which was sponsored by English Apples & Pears. There was even a booklet included in the record sleeve touting the benefits of each variety of the fruit. Also, some actors in the commercial are in huge apple costumes, and all I could think of was the cover of Bjork’s Volta, where she wears a costume that appears to be some sort of psychedelic apple with giant, blue feet. The guys in the commercial in this picture look nowhere near as goofy.
I would have thought the religious-ceremony-slash-concert scene near the end of Privilege was preposterous, except we have recently seen a strong uptick in Christian Nationalism and Neo-Nazism, so I can imagine such a spectacle today. Just add some bloodsports and some Tradwives bullshit, and it would go over like gangbusters. In that infamous interview from 1966, Lennon went on to say he didn’t know which would go first, rock and roll or Christianity. How shocked I am that the latter will definitely outlive the former.
Dir: Peter Watkins
Starring Paul Jones, Jean Shrimpton
Watched on Scorpion Releasing blu-ray