When one thinks of George Orwell, it is natural to relate his career to two novels – Nineteen Eighty-Four and Animal Farm. These works are obviously towering literary achievements, but also powerful works of political commentary which are beginning to look like certain world leaders are using them as manuals. One of his lesser-known, but still exceptional works is Keep the Aspidistra Flying, a novel that may lack the impact of Orwell’s more famous books, but still remains starkly resonant and relevant in its own right. It was adapted into a film, which was relatively underseen and unfortunately so, especially considering that when looking at what Robert Bierman had to do, in adapting a novel that is not particularly lucid, into a quaint and delightful romantic comedy. Keep the Aspidistra Flying (also alternatively known as A Merry War, despite the fact that there doesn’t seem to be any sort of war in this film) is a tremendous underdog of a film – featuring a mighty performance from Richard E. Grant, and a certain easygoing cynicism, this is a film that captures the freewheeling but extremely profound nature of Orwell’s novel, and becomes a true gem of a film that demands a wider viewership, if not for its wonderful sense of delighted humour, for its significance in a contemporary context.

Set in 1934, Gordon Comstock (Richard E. Grant) has a solid career as a writer for one of London’s most prestigious advertising agencies and is due for a promotion. However, Gordon feels, despite the comfort of his job and the relatively low-demanding nature of his career, he is not intellectually or spiritually inspired by his work, and thus sets off on a journey of self-discovery, resigning from his job and endeavouring to become a poet – he idolizes William Blake and T.S. Eliot and pines for their lives, where they could write beautiful poetry and have it consumed by the masses who would be willing to pay just to clutch the latest book by these prestigious poets. However, our protagonist doesn’t realize the effort it takes to become an established writer – effort that he doesn’t seem to be able to motivate himself to put into his quest to become the next great British writer. Unable to support himself on poetry alone, Gordon is forced to get part-time work for meagre pay and even more spiritual dissatisfaction – and when his vices begin to rear themselves, the bookshops become smaller, the streets dirtier and his clothes more ragged. Yet, through all of this, Gordon Comstock is determined to make a name for himself, even if that means sacrificing the only people who truly care for him, such as his girlfriend Rosemary (Helena Bonham Carter) and his sister Julia (Harriet Walter). Caught between the solid and reliable, but ultimately dreary and uneventful, life in the corporate world, or in the liberated but uncertain world of artistry, Gordon begins to see that the art life, as fulfilling as it may be, is not always the most sustainable.

Is there anything Richard E. Grant can’t do? Somehow, this remarkable actor has remained relatively underpraised until now, and despite his iconic work in the cult films Withnail & I and How to Get Ahead in Advertising, it has taken him until recently to earn the recognition proportional to his talents. Exploring his career over the past few years has brought multiple gems to the forefront, with Keep the Aspidistra Flying certainly being one of them – and with Grant planted in the plum lead role of Gordon Comstock, he is able to run the gamut of Orwellian emotions, playing a zany but conflicted character, balancing comedy and drama in this relentlessly fierce, and often slightly unhinged, portrayal of a man desperate for his soul to be nourished, even if that means his physical being is subjected to deterioration. It is a wonderfully layered performance from Grant, and a great companion to his work in Jack & Sarah, which also looked at a lovable rogue being forced to find his own way in the world by overcoming his own stubbornness. Grant is also greatly aided by Helena Bonham Carter, who had yet to become the iconoclastic figure we adore, giving a delightfully lovely performance in a role that was unfortunately somewhat underdeveloped and could’ve been given some more characterization to utilize both Carter’s extraordinary talents, and the palpable chemistry between her and Grant. Keep the Aspidistra Flying is thoroughly Grant’s film, and it proves his mettle as a leading man, and with dedicated supporting performances from Carter and the array of smaller roles, he flourishes in this complex but also marvellously funny comedy.

Keep the Aspidistra Flying is set in the early 1930s, in the period between the Great War and the Second World War. The alternative title to this film, as mentioned in the introduction, was A Merry War – and initially quite a confusing concept (considering there was nary a war in sight throughout the entirety of the film), there is a very different kind of war going on, one of the psyche. Gordon is presented with two contrasting worlds – that of the mundane, corporate and safe, and that of the liberal and free. He moves from one to the other, seeing them as being warring states, between them he could never remain. He opts for the one that resonates with him the most and accepts the consequences, even when it is extraordinarily difficult to do so. He also finds himself at war with others – his girlfriend who tries so dreadfully hard to love him, in spite of his stubbornness and inability to understand that his selfish actions are not only going to put him at a disadvantage but those around him. He wages war on the fabric of society, choosing a life of alleged artistic freedom, rejecting the structural constraints on which society is built, openly deriding it and ensuring that his vitriolic feelings towards those who perpetuate this apparent artistic degradation of society, where great writers are wasted away in agencies writing slogans and jingles (it is curious that Grant previously had one of his finest performances playing someone who truly believes in the virtues of advertising in How to Get Ahead in Advertising). Keep the Aspidistra Flying is filled with many different “wars”, presenting two sides of certain issues that can never be resolved, and certainly cannot ever be compatible.

Orwell wrote two novels often noted for their political significance, especially how eerily resonant they are, nearly a century later (the analogy between the Newspeak of Oceania with the absurdly terrifying “alternative facts” of the current Republican administration is often cited). Keep the Aspidistra Flying may be one of his less-revered novels, but it is certainly not one without merits, and it has some supremely fascinating relevance to a contemporary context. We are in an age where younger generations (essentially the embodiment of the buzzword “millennials”) are abandoning structured, long-term jobs to pursue more freelance careers that afford them independence from the typical grind our forefathers endured. For many, they admirably succeed – many others don’t, and Gordon Comstock, despite being a character residing in London in the 1930s, is the personification of this millennial angst, the ennui that comes when one realizes that their life is their own now, and unless they pursue their dreams themselves, they would remain in uninspired environments. Comstock is also similar to a lot of this generation insofar as he lives a sheltered life, completely oblivious to the fact that outside his comfortable existence, life is extremely difficult, especially if one isn’t willing to work hard. This isn’t meant to be an indictment on the millennial mindset – has this generation not, after all, brought about some of the most significant social change since the Civil Rights Movement? Orwell’s main target with Keep the Aspidistra Flying are the younger generations who are so desperate for spiritual nourishment, they are willing to sacrifice basic necessities for a chance to pursue their own enlightenment. It works for some, and for others it does not. Moreover, consider Keep the Aspidistra Flying is set in the 1930s, a prominent time for economic turmoil, which is starkly similar to the current economic situation, and the grim prospects we have to face in the future. The portrayal of poverty in this film is also quite noteworthy, and while Bierman may infuse this adaptation with more cheer than the more bleak and arid novel, it still comments on the class divide without ever being heavyhanded.

Orwell was not only a remarkable writer, he was someone who could construct elaborate but meaningful parables about society, and Bierman adapts Orwell’s unique idiosyncrasies perfectly to this film, which portrays the period of upheaval in remarkable detail, without losing the wit and charm of the author’s writings. Richard E. Grant is effortlessly brilliant in Keep the Aspidistra Flying, showing himself capable of ingenious excess and subtle restraint, allowing his Gordon Comstock to be more than just a caricature of the pre-war romantic poet, but a fully-realized, complex character that can be analysed both as a representation of the mentality of the time, and as a portrayal of how history is repeating itself, with individuals using their own sensitive desire for recognition and acclaim to justify their attempts at profundity, when all it is is just high-functioning laziness, but the consequences are mercifully demonstrated with great finesse here. Keep the Aspidistra Flying is a terrific film, an underseen gem that may be conventional (to the point where one of the film’s grandest merits is that it has a sense of warmth and familiarity). This is a film that opens itself up to keen analysis and insightful discussion, and like all of Orwell’s works, it doesn’t propose any answers to its ambigious questions. Lightweight without being frothy, endearing without being sentimental, Keep the Aspidistra Flying is a tremendous film, with an authenticity only overtaken by the film’s remarkable thematic underpinnings. A film about the futility of artistic freedom in the absence of self-awareness, and the cheerfully optimistic nihilism of the brutal realization that we may not all be that special in the end, and just accepting it. As the great (and similarly influential) writer Kurt Vonnegut so boldly and crudely asserted: “I tell you, we are here on Earth to fart around and don’t let anybody tell you different”.