“Geoffrey’s bad enough, but I’m glad I wasn’t married to Jesus”

These words resound as the first statement made in Alan Bennett’s Bed Among the Lentils, his lengthy dramatic monologue that serves as a showcase for the incredible Dame Maggie Smith, who does what is undeniably amongst her finest work here. I genuinely believed I had seen Smith at her peak in The Lonely Passion of Judith Hearne, a beautiful story of a middle-aged woman finding her way through a challenging world. Bed Among the Lentils goes beyond this, becoming perhaps the finest piece of acting Smith has ever produced, which is remarkable considering the scope of this film is relatively small, executed without a single moment of inauthenticity, as the simple and straightforward approach to the material, some would even say minimalistic, serviced this incredibly compelling work from simply being an endearing one-woman show, and transformed it into fascinating character study that sees one of the greatest actresses of her generation, and indeed of all time, abandoning all preconceived notions brought on by her long, memorable career, and delivering one of the finest performances of the 1980s, and one that truly left me in nothing short of awe-inspired silence. If there was any reason to fall in love with the indomitable Maggie Smith all over again, Bed Among the Lentils was certainly the film to remind us of why exactly she is such a revered, iconic member of her intimidatingly brilliant generation of actors.

Bed Among the Lentils is truly an unforgettable experience, and taking into account how this is nothing more than a series of vignettes in which Smith relays a story in a few monologues, we can come to appreciate the fact that performance doesn’t always need to entail anything other than a good script and a capable actor to bring it to life. The narrative is relatively simple, even if it does intentionally take a short while before we realize where the story is heading. Smith plays a woman named Susan, a vicar’s wife repressed by the standards put upon her by the other people in her community, who fail to see her as anything other than the darling companion of a man they dearly respect. Beneath her pleasant exterior that takes part in charity functions and church events, there’s a ferocity that slowly comes to the fore, particularly when she begins an extramarital affair with Ramesh, a young Indian immigrant who runs the corner-shop she frequents, mostly to hide the fact that she has run up an exceptionally high bill at the local liquor store, due to her burgeoning alcoholism, something everyone else seems to notice, but she fails to accept. Over time, Susan begins to fight out against the world that continues to psychologically oppress her – whether it be something as inconsequential as a bitingly sarcastic comment to one of the pompous church ladies who gladly deride her as a way of wooing her husband, or the enormous statement of surrendering herself to her desires, and ultimately making the even bolder move to atone for her wrongdoing and accept her flaws. Slowly but surely, “Mrs Vicar” finally regains the sense of self-worth she had lost over the years.

It’s a challenge to describe exactly what it is about Bed Among the Lentils that is so compelling – we certainly know it has to do with Smith, because the entire film is focused solely on her, with the only element that comes between her and the audience being the changing locations where she finds herself. It’s more than a dramatic monologue – it’s a beautifully calibrated piece of acting, a chance for the actress to leave behind the most comfortable aspects of performance – lavish sets, continuous movement and the solace of a co-star or two to share the screen with, in favour of something far more direct and unflinchingly honest, which is beyond admirable. Not many performers would be willing to appear in a film like Bed Among the Lentils, as there is very little here that could possibly be appealing to those interested in making an imprint. It’s an unorthodox method of filmmaking that is far more acceptable on stage or the radio, but which Bennett successful employed in his Talking Heads series. Yet, despite the clear challenges that would come alongside this film, it affords Smith the opportunity to prove her mettle as an actress, where she dismantles the boundary between performer and audience, often speaking to us directly, creating a sense of unimpeachable intimacy. We’re drawn into Susan’s life, with Smith drawing out every emotion with such sincerity, using her words to construct evocative images in our mind, more powerful than even the most exuberant films would be able to convey.

This is the power of Bed Among the Lentils – when Smith looks into the camera and allows Bennett’s beautiful words to flow into the ether, we become instantly captivated. Smith has played nearly every role possible and has certainly found her niche in playing more independently-minded women who defy expectations, much to the chagrin of more level-headed individuals. Yet, Bennett (who could possibly be considered someone who gave Smith some of her best work, with A Private Function and The Lady in the Van also being high-points in her career) gives her far more to work with in terms of this character, especially in how she is essentially playing a role that may certainly be well within her capabilities, but still extends further than nearly anything we’ve seen her do before. Each moment of Bed Among the Lentils demonstrates why Smith is such an enduring presence – her ability to not only create these scenes through the sheer power of a brilliant script and her remarkable ability to find the meaning within every word, but she manages to be both hilarious (what would a film with Smith in the lead be without the obligatory sarcastic comments and potent one-liners?) and utterly heartbreaking. Susan is a tragic figure, and we only know this because of the underlying pain that is brought to the surface by Smith’s towering performance. Smith and Bennett work in tandem to construct a character whose vulnerabilities are not concealed, but rather boldly expressed, with an elegance underpinned by heartbreak that only Smith could have possibly executed without it being overwrought or insincere.

Bed Among the Lentils is more than just an hourlong monologue in which Smith interprets Bennett’s gorgeous script – it’s an evocative drama with moments of genuine humour and tangible heartbreak, and a film that appears to occur at the perfect intersection between masterful acting and beautifully-composed drama. It touches on issues of faith quite heavily, with Bennett’s writing being filled with both heartfelt humour and profound cultural commentary, which is conveyed with such authenticity by Smith, whose ability to command the screen and keep us thoroughly engaged is a significant reason why she has endured as one of the most beloved performers of all time. Yet, even below the technical and theoretical aspects, Bed Among the Lentils is an astonishing achievement, precisely because of how it is ultimately a deeply human work. It’s a stark, intimate exploration of the trials and tribulations of one woman and her quest to find some meaning, breaking free from her social position and earning her place in a world that seems oddly hostile to her. It’s a shattering experience, one that will captivate the audience just as fast as it will break our hearts. Executed with the familiarity of being in conversation with a close friend, rather than being divided by the preordained membrane that normally pervades in the arts, Bed Among the Lentils is an incredible work of uncompromising truthfulness and fragility, and a chance for us to witness Maggie Smith doing her finest work, which makes the relative obscurity of this astounding piece of acting so bewildering. I implore everyone to seek out this masterful exploration of the human condition – there’s something so compassionate and earnest about this deeply moving, unforgettable masterpiece.