Tom Jones is a strange film. I can’t decide whether it’s an idiotic folly or brilliant, dark satire—perhaps a bit of both, which is a step up from the first time I saw it. I thought it was dreadful then. I couldn’t fathom how this movie managed to snag a good review, let alone an Oscar for Best Picture. It’s grown on me since, although I still wouldn’t rank it as great. Perhaps audiences have to be drunk to enjoy it, like several of the characters and one or two actors involved. Otherwise, its cleverness is chiefly lost on me. I find it downright sloppy at times, with badly looped dialogue, jerky edits, continuity errors, and cheesy dissolves. It’s almost as if Monty Python and Benny Hill half-heartedly combined to spoof Merchant-Ivory, decades before those films were even made. Still, it’s not without a few saving graces.

The art direction is outstanding, for one, with period-perfect, atmospheric details. The Oscar-winning score runs the gamut from “Baroque slapstick” to lilting French Impressionism. Its primary leitmotif, which repeats throughout, is truly beautiful. There are a handful of genuine laughs, as well. But often, the humor takes on a grotesque, nightmarish quality that relishes in condemning man’s earthly pleasures with hideous glee. That’s when the dark brilliance surfaces. A traditional stag hunt, complete with yapping hounds and galloping horses devolves into a blood-thirsty horror movie. A seductive dinner between Tom (Albert Finney) and Mrs. Waters (Joyce Redman) turns into two sleazy gluttons gorging themselves—one of the best and funniest scenes in the film. Then there’s the cast, and what a cast! Five actors received Oscar nominations for their work here.

Albert Finney and Susannah York.

The movie opens with a prologue of Tom’s illegitimate birth, shot as a silent film with title cards and accompanied by nickelodeon music on a harpsichord. Subsequent scenes are narrated in voiceover, and actors often break the fourth wall to mug right into the camera. The story itself is a bawdy, episodic adventure, showing Tom’s rise, then fall, then rise again. Albert Finney is dashing and dopey as the title character. It’s the first of Finney’s five Oscar-nominated performances. For reasons somewhat unclear, he had been let go from his most recent leading role after just two weeks of filming—that of T.E. Lawrence in Lawrence of Arabia. He followed this unfortunate circumstance by starring in the next Best Picture instead.

A trio of actresses were recognized by the Academy in supporting roles. First, there’s Diane Cilento, overly made up with white circles of concealer around her eyes and thick, cat-eye mascara. She’s straight out of a Fellini hallucination as Molly Seagrim, the town whore. Then there’s Edith Evans as Miss Western, a cranky but fearless dowager. She is the calculating aunt of Tom’s love Sophie (the beautiful Susannah York). And finally, Joyce Redman as lusty Jenny Jones, the supposed unwed mother of Tom, who, disguised as “Mrs. Waters,” beds him at the Upton Inn after their voraciously over-the-top supper together.

Joyce Redman as Mrs. Waters.

The men provide delightful character work as well. Jack MacGowran (The Exorcist) as Tom’s alleged father Mr. Partridge, David Tomlinson (Mary Poppins) as the lecherous Lord Fellamar, who pounces on an unsuspecting Sophie. Oscar-nominated Hugh Griffith (Ben-Hur) as Sophie’s father, the often intoxicated yet always deranged Squire Western. A youthful David Warner (Titanic), making his film debut as Blifil, the sniveling half-brother of Tom. And Peter Bull (Doctor Dolittle), a stalwart character actor in countless films, as Thwackum, one of Blifil’s manipulative tutors.

This movie has grown on me after my initial allergic reaction. I do see its charm. It’s a product of its time, released in 1963, which I’m sure was refreshing to audiences coming out of the repressed 1950s. The film thumbs its nose at convention on every level, as did many films of the British New Wave. It exposes the uglier side of human nature but does so with lowbrow humor, making it easier to laugh off while allowing the point to sink in, over time. I don’t know that I’ll ever fully embrace the juvenile vulgarity or clumsy storytelling, but I don’t see it as the worst choice made by the Academy. It’s another rare win for a comedy, at least. It also helps during this particular screening that I chose the newly restored Criterion Blu-ray Disc. In the past, this movie has been in terrible shape, with faded, overly dark, low-resolution prints, often aired on television in the pan-and-scan/cropped format. I now appreciate its detailed costumes, art direction, and locations. Presentation counts for a lot even if it doesn’t cure this film of its many flaws. Regardless, I’m sure I’ll revisit it, if for no other reason than its marvelous cast.

Tom Jones