Like many people, I was always aware of Quentin Crisp – he was, in his own words “one of the great stately homos of England”, and whether be his position as one of British culture’s most beloved writers and raconteurs, or his brief forays into acting from time to time (I’ll always remember his performance as Queen Elizabeth in Orlando, which was also the formative moment for the career of a young Tilda Swinton), he was always a very enigmatic creature, yet not by his own admission: no one seems to have been more vocal about his experiences as Crisp, and he would take every opportunity to relay his innumerable stories about life in pre-war Britain, and his position as one of the first openly homosexual public figures, who never attempted to hide who he was, opting to rather take on the position of a moral and personal exhibitionist, or a “naked civil servant”, where he tirelessly laboured to express himself in his own undeniably strange way. His memoir was turned into this film, which allows audiences to peer into his life in a way that doesn’t feel exploitative or inappropriate (not that it would ever have been thought to be – the man himself introduces the film, thus unequivocally giving his blessing to the film). The Naked Civil Servant is an earnest, often hilarious depiction of the life of one of the most fascinating men in British culture, a queer counterculture icon whose joie de vivre and utter conviction to being himself are not only irreverent but also deeply inspiring and unquestionably joyful.

Set from his teenage years until around 1975, The Naked Civil Servant sheds light on the formative years of Crisp, as he moves out of his conservative family’s home, leaving behind a life of comfort and luxury, and venturing off into the wilderness of London in the 1930s. Absolutely not afraid to conceal his identity, and armed with a mane of wild red hair and a flamboyant sense of fashion, Quentin submerges himself into what he considers to be the apex of British culture, making friends with like-minded individuals (who are understandably more conservative with the expression of their sexual identity), all of which, much like Quentin, are trying extremely hard to express themselves in a society that just does not see them as being anything close to human. Homosexuality was only decriminalised in Great Britain in 1967, nearly four decades after the majority of the events of this film, and thus Quentin not only had the burden of trying to prove himself as an independent individual without having any discernible skills in the eyes of the public, but also to proudly flaunt his sexual identity, not feeling as if it is anything to feel ashamed about, despite the fact that even his closest allies try and distract from their innermost desires in the same way as someone who actually committed a heinous crime would cover their actions. Yet, Quentin manages to get by, sometimes only narrowly, but he ultimately is a resourceful young man who has the self-confidence to pursue absolutely anything that will help him get through life in a hostile society, and he discovers that pride is not expensive and that the dignity that comes with self-respect is more powerful than the validation of a misguided society.

John Hurt was one of the greatest actors of his generation, and to speak of him in the past tense is heartwrenching. An omnipotent actor if there ever was one, he was someone who was welcome in any form, whether commanding the screen in a leading role or stealing every scene in committed supporting parts. An actor who was capable of so much more than he ever let on, its sometimes in his earliest performances that we can momentarily find bursts of unprecedented genius. The Naked Civil Servant could quite possibly be considered the role that made him the esteemed actor that has been canonized as one of the great performers of his time. Taking on the role of Quentin Crisp would be a daunting task for any actor, and to have the subject himself presiding over the film and advising towards it would be even more challenging – yet, Hurt is astonishing, transforming himself from the humble, soft-spoken young man that broke our hearts in 10 Rillington Place into the very epitome of pre-war exuberance. Hurt was an actor whose style and talents could never be truly pinned down to one particular archetype – he was a chameleonic actor, someone who adapted to whatever material was given to him. It made him too broad of an actor to be a massive star, but also too brilliant for him to fade into the obscurity of just being a dedicated character actor. Caught in between, he managed to construct a career of astoundingly brilliant performances that extended across genres. In the end, however, The Naked Civil Servant may not be his most famous performance, nor the film that reached the widest audience, but rather his performance that defined him the best as an actor – not only could he give a brilliant and multilayered portrayal of a very unique public figure, he could also elevate a relatively cheaply-made television film into a comical masterpiece that still resonates with audiences today.

The resonance of The Naked Civil Servant comes in the fact that it is a relatively simple piece, but one that doesn’t linger on one particular idea. It is caught between genres and conventions – it is initially a very playful comedy about a young man venturing into the unknown through moving out of his home without any semblance of a solid plan for his future and just hoping to make a success of himself along the way. It is an absurdly upbeat film because even when it starts to explore darker subject matter, such as the overarching criminality of homosexuality in Britain during this period, it does so with a certain tongue-in-cheek humour that doesn’t make light of the situation, but does not portray it as melodramatic or heavy-handed. Crisp was not someone whose disposition necessarily condoned sympathy – he was openly proud of who he was, and he found great solace in portraying himself as an exuberant man who always had a lust for life, regardless of how much he struggled. The film does admirably in translating the author’s perspective into a dramatized format, where Crisp’s lust for life blends effortlessly with his continuous plight that followed him around, occasionally threatening to send him into poverty, to prison, or even (at some points) to the graveyard – yet the film is not overly sentimental, choosing to rather be as quirky and flamboyant as the subject of the film, and just as adorable and endearing, and singularly unforgettable.

Yet, beneath the vivacity of the film, The Naked Civil Servant does have some bleak subject matter – while he certainly did not fixate on it in a way that becomes too harrowing to enjoy, he did not conceal the truth of it. This film does very well to portray how much Crisp stood out. He was a colourful man in a society of muted, dull colours, and as we have seen before, embracing your identity and loving yourself is a beautiful experience – but its not one that comes very easily, and when you live in a society that punishes certain identities, it becomes increasingly difficult to find the much-needed acceptance that helps motivate us. The Naked Civil Servant is a great film about queer issues because it explores them in a way very different from what we normally see. Coming to terms with one’s identity is different for everyone, and for Crisp, he was never unsure of who he was, but rather his struggle was with finding a way to exist in a community that didn’t particularly care for his way of life. He refuses to run away – when given the advice to move to the more accepting Paris, he firmly turns down the notion: Britain is his home. When told that he should tone down his behaviour and appearance in order to appear “normal”, he once again rejects the absurdity of such an assertion – the message is that it wasn’t Crisp that needed to change, but rather the society around him. This is what makes The Naked Civil Servant so wonderful – it breaks out hearts to see our protagonist suffer to just be who he knows to be, but when the final moment of this film occurs, the pride and joy that he carries himself with, having finally seen the hearts and minds of society changed towards a more accepting attitude, is utterly triumphant.

The Naked Civil Servant is a terrific little film – it may not be the most polished of films, and it is often very rough around the edges, carrying itself with a rugged charm that would have been otherwise missing had this been a bit more cohesive. However, its merits outweigh all of the minor problems, especially when the film is anchored by John Hurt, who delivers one of the most ferocious performances of his career (and a role he would go on to reprise nearly a quarter of a century later in An Englishman in New York), and proves his mettle as one of the finest actors of his generation, someone whose relentless dedication to every character and part, whether large or small, was revelatory, and revealed an actor who was always in steadfast control of his seemingly endless skills. Moreover, The Naked Civil Servant is a beautifully-composed film, a poetic ode to self-love and finding the confidence to challenge the idea of normality, and even when you exist on the margins of the perceived boundaries of decency, there is still fun to be had. Its a powerful manifesto on embracing your identity, challenging conventions and being unapologetic in your pursuit of happiness, and having a good time doing it, because as we’ve seen through Crisp’s joyful perspective on life, what use is existence, whatever the circumstances, if you can’t have fun along the way? You might just find yourself in the process.