An unlikely art heist carried out in the name of social justice in 1960s Britain is the subject of this intriguing real-life tale…
Director: Roger Michell
Screenwriters: Richard Bean and Clive Coleman
Synopsis
Newcastle, England, 1961. Aspiring playwright and social activist Kempton Bunton, 60, pursues his cause of securing free TV licences for the elderly and WWII veterans, much to the consternation of his long-suffering wife, Dorothy, who just wants him to get a steady job and stop making a fuss. Kempton is particularly aggrieved that the UK government has spent £140,000 (around £3m today) on buying Francisco Goya’s portrait of the Duke of Wellington for the National Gallery in London. Supported by youngest son Jackie, Kempton’s crusade culminates in him ‘borrowing’ the painting, with a plan to hold it hostage and get the government to pay up, so he can redistribute the wealth. However, things become complicated, leading to the return of the painting and Kempton’s arrest.
Comments
Sometimes, life is odder than anything dreamed up by writers, and the story behind The Duke (released in UK cinemas in 2022) would fall into this category. Kempton Bunton (Jim Broadbent) is an unlikely working class hero living in a rundown Newcastle suburb still reeling from the effects of war. The poverty is all around, as is the blatant inequality and injustice. Indeed, Kempton gets himself fired from his job after standing up for a Pakistani employee who is expected to take shorter breaks than his white colleagues, while enduring the boss’ racist abuse.
Kempton is a passionate advocate for social justice, dashing off plays about injustices that he (ironically) sends off to the BBC, quoting Gandhi, and getting worked up about his pet cause, paying for a TV licence. Meanwhile, his grounded, mostly disapproving wife Dorothy (Helen Mirren) toils away as a housekeeper and does her best to keep the household together, which includes restless younger son Jackie, who wants to travel the world as a boat builder, and elder son Kenny, who has criminal ties and a married girlfriend.
While the theft of the painting and its fallout are the hooks, the emotional framework within which the story is set concerns the death of the Buntons’ teenage daughter. While Dorothy refuses to share her grief, or even visit the grave, Kempton blames himself (he bought the bike she was riding when she had a fatal crash). The shenanigans with the Goya indirectly serve to trigger the healing process for them both. (Note the clever use of one of Kempton’s plays.) The ending ties up all the loose ends in a satisfactory, warm-hearted (and unexpected) way.
The main strength of The Duke is Broadbent as the forthright, pipe-puffing, irrepressible Chekov fan who believes wholeheartedly in his cause. The role of Kempton could’ve easily tipped over into the insufferable but Broadbent keeps him sympathetic (if a bit annoying). The scenes towards the end in the courtroom are especially strong, combining humour (such as Kempton’s unsolicited explanation of the origins of his name) with simple but effective pathos that asserts the overall goodness of people and the strength of the collective. The verdict (which mirrors the real-life verdict) feels just and offers the opportunity for a few moments of the kind of unity that Kempton champions. Mirren mostly rolls her eyes and tuts disapprovingly. However, the relationship between Dorothy and Kempton feels natural and comfortable, increasingly so as his caper leads to her acceptance of their daughter’s death.
Direction by (the late) Roger Michell is suitably quirky, employing techniques such as split screen and newsreel footage to give the film an authentic sixties feel (although some have pointed out the geographical inaccuracies that are likely lost on anyone unfamiliar with Newcastle). The filmmakers also quite deftly overcome the large hurdle regarding the actual theft of the painting, which is revealed at the very end.
If there are negatives, it would be the rather rapid escalation of events, from Kempton trying to get people to sign his free TV licence petition to heading off to London for a couple of days, to staring at the stolen Goya in his backroom. This extends to the eventual return of the painting, which, while humorous, negates Kempton’s previous efforts to keep his involvement under wraps.
Given Kempton’s domineering personality and his central role in proceedings, it’s also maybe not surprising that the secondary characters are a little thinly drawn, such as the hapless cops, pompous government officials, and the Bunton kids.
However, overall, this is a feel-good old-fashioned fictionalisation of rich, compelling source material that highlights how far Britain has come in the intervening years, as well as what we’ve lost along the way, and how far we still need to go to achieve fairness and equity.
The take-aways
1. However intriguing or quirky the source material, it’s important to anchor the story in something relatable and to give it an emotional heart.
2. The Duke is a good example of the physical journey and the emotional journey at play: The physical action revolves around the Goya caper, but the emotional journey concerns facing up to bereavement and embracing the grieving process.
3. Even when history provides all the ingredients for a compelling script, it still takes considerable work and creativity to shape the events to fit a screen narrative. The ‘Kempton returns the painting’ sequence is a good example.
In reality, Kempton hung on to the painting for four years and returned it voluntarily through a railway station’s lost luggage service before surrendering to the police six weeks later. Not very cinematic.
In the script, the writers condense the timeframe to six months and force Kempton’s hand by having his son Kenny’s devious girlfriend discover the painting and blackmail him to get her hands on half the reward offered for information on its whereabouts. This prompts Kempton into brazenly strolling into the National Gallery with it under his arm and handing it to a bemused guard, setting up the final act in which he finds himself in the dock. While a little contrived and unbelievable, it does add urgency, cause & effect, and momentum. It also aligns with the humorous and slightly irreverent tone.
Note on the historical context
While protesting the requirement to pay for a licence to watch TV may seem like a lightweight issue, it’s actually the perfect vessel for Kempton’s fight. A quintessentially British convention, the TV license was introduced in 1946 when the only available channel was the non-commercial BBC. By the time of Kempton’s exploits, ITV was available, which was (and continues to be) funded by advertising. Even now, when there are hundreds of non-BBC channels available to watch via cable, satellite, and streaming, etc., the BBC still receives the proceeds of the TV licence, which is currently £159 a year for a colour TV. (The antiquated nature of the licence is underlined by the fact that there is a lower priced option for a black & white telly.) As Kempton notes late in the story, losing access to television cuts people (often the elderly and infirm) off from the outside world, and from society. The issue also ensures the movie remains topical, with the current rising cost of living putting even everyday necessities beyond many people’s reach. While the film ends by telling us TV licences were made free for the over-75s in 2000, this was largely revoked in 2020, the year the film was made.
Go further:
Take a look at the official trailer:
There’s also an interesting behind the scenes featurette:
While it’s not currently available, there is a radio play about Kempton, ‘Kempton and the Duke’ by David Spicer, which was first broadcast on BBC Radio 4 on 6 October 2015.
References:
- https://www.scotsman.com/arts-and-culture/film-and-tv/the-duke-what-happened-to-kempton-bunton-and-is-the-duke-a-true-story-3581162
- https://www.tvlicensing.co.uk/about/media-centre/news/black-and-white-tv-still-going-strong-NEWS22
- https://www.tvlicensing.co.uk/check-if-you-need-one/topics/tv-licence-types-and-costs-top2