THE MAN IN THE WHITE SUIT (1951) *** What would the geniuses at Ealing think it might take to unify the revolutionary socialist workers and the exploitative capitalist robber barons? Well, what about a gaudy white suit?! A very white one, that couldn't get dirty or wear out! And there you have it, in its utmost glory-the framework of a suitably incredible screenplay. With everyday sets (oh, maybe the odd chemists' table thrown in), no special effects, and only the most understated spates of violence, Roger MacDougall encounters virtually the entirety of Western culture, finds that we have more common ground than we'd thought, and comprehensibly prophesies the response of oil to the advent of solar power. The social commentaries occur naturally but relentlessly, and are sharp and incisive as opposed to merely brief. Alec Guinness carries the narrative with the shoulders of a man who couldn't really be angry with another, but is disinclined to be on the receiving end too much boggled explanation. And, MacDougall's play suggests, when it comes to us there can be no other. It is not, as some have suggested, satire. Instead it is poetic truth sown in a flat manner on rough fields-all well grown, it will necessarily appear uneven to the eyes of the amateur. It's also quite, quite silly, but only in the most dignified manner, of course.
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