Archie Rice (Laurence Olivier) is the last person who will ever admit to being outdated, even though nearly everyone else around him holds this to be an unimpeachable truth. A relic of the days when the stage was dominated by eccentric, middle-aged men who performed in sold-out theatres to adoring crowds who enjoyed the upbeat, excessive comedic stylings of these multitalented performers, Archie fails to realize that he may have gone out of fashion, just like his profession. He ignores all the warnings, and presses on anyway, even when the theatres get smaller, and the audiences become more scattered – in his mind, he is just in a slump, and that once Great Britain emerges from this postwar slump, he’ll be able to reach the very top once again. However, behind the curtain stands a very different set of challenges that very few actually know about – Archie’s marriage to his second wife, Phoebe (Brenda de Banzie) is falling apart as a result of his tendency towards infidelity, particularly with much younger starlets who are hoping to break into the industry, as well as his inability to make a decent living. He has lived on the margins for two decades now, avoiding paying tax (an anecdote which he has woven into both his everyday discourse and his regular stage routine), which has allowed him to only make the bare minimum, depending on the generosity (and in some instances, the gullibility) of strangers who purport to be fans of his, and would gladly help him out, not realizing the actual nature of his situation. His domestic life is also plagued with problems – his youngest son (Albert Finney) is a soldier who has been shipped off to give assistance during the Suez Crisis, which has also brought Archie’s daughter, Jean (Joan Plowright) home, as she herself has been facing trouble at home, caught between moving to Africa with her fiance, or staying in England with her family. Over the course of a few weeks, Jean and her father work through some of their unresolved issues, trying to come to an agreement on how to put their differences aside, which becomes increasingly more difficult as they realize how distant they’ve grown from each other.

Tony Richardson had a tendency for telling very compelling stories that were defined almost entirely by one element – their incredible humanity. As one of the pioneers of the kitchen-sink realism movement, as well as the “angry young man” sub-genre, the director was able to take lengthy strolls through the lives of ordinary people facing different challenges in their everyday life. One of his more prominent works, by virtue of being the one that carries the most unexpected depth, is The Entertainer. This is a film in which two entirely different worlds collide – on one end, we have Richardson and his school of thought, which was defined almost entirely by gritty naturalism that sought to dismantle the inauthentic sheen of more populist cinema, and instead present audiences with something that reflects their own lives, as uncomfortable as that may be. On the other, there is the world in which Laurence Olivier was an occupant – one known for its broad theatricality, extravagance and eccentricity.

Somehow, through the mere virtue of their collaboration, the actor and director managed to merge their styles together and create a work of sheer brilliance, a hauntingly beautiful, but often bitingly funny, glimpse into the trials and tribulations of a man on the verge of a breakdown, and the people around him that have to bear the brunt of his own selfish desires. This isn’t purely aligned with the realism movement, nor is it a work that sees Olivier luxuriating a pool of theatrical excess – it’s a film that exists at the perfect intersection between the two, a riveting fable of success and failure that has moments of delightful levity, but also an abundance of sadness, with an encroaching melancholy, derived from the more cynical depths of John Osborne’s play that inspired this film, gradually taking over, forming a heartbreakingly earnest, and deeply disconcerting, portrait of a family struggling to find a place in a world that has grown truly hostile to them over the years.

The aspect of The Entertainer that has been most remembered – and quite rightfully so – is the performance being given by Laurence Olivier. An actor who had explored nearly every corner of the industry, Olivier was in an interesting position – widely considered one of the finest actors working at the time, he was also not one to rest on his laurels, and he continued to explore many different genres until the end of his career. The Entertainer has been cited as the film that restarted his love affair with acting, with the actor himself claiming this was amongst his favourite roles, and the one that made him realize how much he enjoyed the art of performance. Archie Rice is a tricky character – it needs someone with a keen sense of humour, but not someone known for being a comedian, since so much of this performance depends on portraying Archie as a pathetic, untalented man who was decades removed from his peak, and was now running on fumes, hoping that nostalgia would bring him success, which it never did.

Naturally, Olivier was perfectly suited for this role – he could handle both the comedic and dramatic aspects of the character, and instead of looking at them as a binary set of skills, he merges them together, creating situations where the most depressing situations are countered with his upbeat optimism, while every joke had a hint of underlying sadness. To imagine Olivier playing a performer who is a complete failure is difficult to imagine, since he himself was an actor who rarely hit a false note (with the exception of a few films that are best left forgotten), so he was certainly abandoning many of the preconceived notions of what he was known for. Despite the large cast, which includes early performances from Joan Plowright, Alan Bates and Albert Finney, The Entertainer belongs almost entirely to Olivier, who is giving one of his strongest performances, and one of the most heartbreaking of his entire career.

Looking beyond Olivier’s dynamic, tour-de-force performance, The Entertainer is a rivetting film about various individuals and their struggles against an oppressive system that might not be articulated as such, but keeps them perpetually under a careful watch, dictating their lives in such a way that they’re never afforded all the freedom they are promised. Some have attempted to sell this as a showbusiness satire, which is certainly true to an extent, but only when we’re considering the lengths to which the story is focusing on the fall from grace experienced by someone who doesn’t realize that they’re beyond their prime, and can’t fathom being seen as mediocre, holding desperately onto some deranged fantasy that is at least twenty years removed from reality.

Richardson may not be looking at the plight of the working class in a very direct way, since so much of The Entertainer is looking at the trials and tribulations of a man who used to be a notable public figure – but through this approach, the director gradually manages to comment on social issues at large, looking into the lives of people behind the titular entertainer, such as his retired father (who was once a much bigger star, and remains a far more popular figure, years after his retreat from the public eye), his alcoholic wife who has to deal with a womanising husband, and his children, who have grown despondent and cynical as a result of seeing their father continuously manipulate anyone who he comes across. This is a film about a man standing idly by while his family falls apart, too distracted by his own aspirations of fame to ever realize how much he’s actually harming those around him. It’s a harrowing tale that carries some semblance of truth, and ultimately grows into a hauntingly beautiful story of an inability to accept failure, and the ramifications of one’s own self-centred nature, and how it can tear apart the very fabric of what is seemingly a strong family.

While he may be better remembered for his astounding work with films like Tom Jones and The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner, Richardson made an audacious film that occurred relatively early in his career (being only his second solo directorial effort for the cinema, the previous being another adaptation of a play by John Osborne, Look Back in Anger), but shows all the signs of a burgeoning master. His control of his actors is astonishing, and even when working with someone of as immense stature as Laurence Olivier, Richardson demonstrates a keen understanding of how to derive meaningful performances from his collaborators, with this being a peak in the careers of many involved, especially those relatively new to the profession.

This is a dark and brooding story of the ebb and flow of success that someone in the public eye goes through, especially after they’re no longer at the height of their fame, and when contrasted against the fascinating socio-cultural context that serves as the background for the film, it’s clear why The Entertainer made such an immense impression, and established Richardson as a major talent. It may not be particularly original in its premise – many artists have endeavoured to look at the more bleak side of fame – but it still carries a profound sense of soulful melancholy that gradually erodes the senseless hope that drives most of the film. It’s a wonderful exercise in carefully-calibrated cynicism that actually feels as if it is saying something meaningful, rather than being a downbeat exploration of a famous man’s gradual descent into poverty, both financially and psychologically. The Entertainer is an astonishing work of realism that makes a profound impact on the viewer, who will undoubtedly be both repulsed and fascinated by the journey of a man struggling to realize that he has become outdated, and the process of coming to terms with the fact that progress, while inevitable, isn’t always the easiest concept to accept.