When it comes to film studios, few were as distinctive in their ability to make a very particular kind of film as Ealing Studios, the esteemed British production company behind some of the greatest comedies of all time, whose prolific output was rapid but rarely anything less than impeccable. Of all their films, the one that is often cited as being the most iconic (and for good reason) is Kind Hearts and Coronets, the hilariously irreverent dark comedy that not only helped launch the studio, with the assistance of a couple other films produced that year, but essentially defined the future of the genre, being one of the most influential works of cinematic humour ever put on screen. Working as a loose adaptation of the novel Israel Rank: The Autobiography of a Criminal by Roy Horniman, which has been appropriately updated and changed to reflect both a growing need for sensitivity, as the original novel has been considered slightly anti-Semitic by many readers, and considering the short time that had elapsed since the Second World War, a more delicate approach was chosen, which is an admirable choice, and one that proved that those involved in this film’s creation weren’t keen on aiming for the low-hanging fruit. This is just one of the many reasons behind the resounding success of Kind Hearts and Coronets, a film that respects the audience more than it respects many of its characters (which seems to have been an intentional choice, as it lends the story more comedic gravitas), and manages to be as insightfully funny as it is exceptionally harrowing, making it one of the most multilayered comedies of its era, and a film that remains as wonderfully funny today as it did all those years ago.

The most compelling aspect of Kind Hearts and Coronets is how simple it is – screenwriter John Dighton and director Robert Hamer did not need to rely on too much trickery or manipulation of the source material to make an effective comedy. The structure is exceptionally straightforward – a young man kills members of his mother’s aristocratic family, both as a way of avenging her death after her relatives refused to acknowledge her, and for his own selfish ambitions in rising from the status of a working-class pedestrian to that of a nobleman, which he has long considered to be not only his birthright, but his ultimate destiny, to the point where murder seems to be the only way to achieve it. Structured as a hilariously deranged comedy-of-manners in the vein of those often seen on the British stage over the decades, but with an undercurrent of harrowing dark comedy to give the film a sardonic edge, Kind Hearts and Coronets is a blisteringly funny film with a mean streak that would have made it despicable had we not become fully invested in the world that Hamer and his collaborators were so dedicated to constructing. It’s never clear whether we should be enamoured or terrified by the story, since it implies that social order is a myth, and as we’ve seen throughout the years, there is very little that can stop someone with the fatal combination of ambition and relentless desire to achieve their goals – and while Kind Hearts and Coronets may be intentionally heightened in terms of absurdism, it says as much about human nature as it does evoke sincere laughter, which is a common occurrence in a film that really did not need to be this genuinely funny (since the story itself was already amusing enough to justify its existence), but achieves a special kind of comedic gravitas that propels it forward and has allowed it to remain remarkably funny all these years later.

The film is led by Dennis Price, who is a dashing and handsome lead, bordering on being a romantic hero (just possessing the pesky quality of being a cold-blooded psychopath), and he is undeniably excellent, being both the straight man of the piece, and the perfect anti-hero to a story that needed someone who could be both charismatic and outright despicable when the occasion called for it. However, as remarkable as Price may be, it remains an unimpeachable fact that Kind Hearts and Coronets belongs almost entirely to Alec Guinness (one of Ealing’s most reliable regular players), who carries the film solely on his shoulders. It is well-documented that he was the one that insisted on playing the entire D’Ascoyne family (including the female roles), so this is immediately the sign of someone willing to experiment with his craft, going further than most actors would have been comfortable with, all for the sake of realizing the hilarious version of the story that he had imagined when approached for a few of the roles. Remarking on his talents seems inappropriate, since we are all aware of how Guinness was undeniably one of the finest actors of his generation, and this film in particular consolidated it, being arguably his first significant breakthrough after a few years of solid work, particularly in those directed by his friend David Lean. As someone who nurtured his career on stage, Guinness brought a sense of theatricality to the role, and managed to transform himself (physically and in terms of personality), into each one of these characters, to the point where he is nearly unrecognizable, crafting nine distinct personalities, each one being so well-defined, they could’ve feasibly have been played by different actors. It’s exceptional work from an actor who regularly peddled in pushing the boundaries of his characters, making this one of the many excellent entries into his long career.

Having considered everything we’ve said, the only real question that needs to be asked is how, nearly three-quarters of a century later, Kind Hearts and Coronets remains such as a riveting and hilarious film. By most accounts, hoping that a film made in the 1940s to remain funny from a contemporary perspective is layering far too many expectations on something that was never intended to be embraced outside of the direct audiences that it was marketed towards. However, having said this, the film has aged remarkably well – few films from this era elicit such hearty laughs as this one without needing to pander to the more lowbrow levels of comedy, which is rare for any film made outside of the slapstick comedy genre. Humour is not only subjective, but extremely volatile – time may help make certain ideas funny, but it also works in the other direction, where jokes that are hilarious at one point tend to age quite poorly, whether it be because of the nature of the jokes being made, or the fact that audiences that would recognize what was being satirized have moved on, leaving a new group of consumers. Kind Hearts and Coronets is somehow the rare instance of a film that not only evades this unfortunate fate, but seems to have only grown better with time – it isn’t necessarily forward-thinking in terms of plot (if anything, it becomes more a period piece, having been set during the Edwardian era), but rather the dynamic approach to the comedy, which is primarily where the most effective humour comes in, since there is very little need for the film to relitigate the draconian structure of British society, instead choosing to give viewers a brief explanation on the nature of hereditary titles, enough to arm us with enough knowledge to make the eventual subversion of these traditions so hilarious. It feels like Kind Hearts and Coronets was made with an explicitly modern sensibility, where the satire is not afraid to be scathing and almost derogatory – and as an exercise in filtering social decorum through the lens of nothing but bad taste, the film is an absolute masterwork from beginning to end – and that’s only scratching the surface, since part of the fun is seeing the ways in which Kind Hearts and Coronets manages to perpetually subvert and redefine entire passages of social commentary.

It seems almost insulting to speak critically on the subject of Kind Hearts and Coronets, even if it is just to remark on how tremendous a comedy it actually is. This could quite possibly be one of the funniest films of the 1940s, and perhaps ever made – and it is all done through the most precise and meaningful approach to the humour that makes it so profoundly modern, while still keeping an element of traditionalist humour that makes for a truly captivating and enthralling 100 minutes of filmmaking. There’s a precision that Hamer brings here that more than warrants this film amassing a status as one of the titans of 1940s British comedy. Only the work of Sacha Guitry could perhaps come close to achieving this level of post-war satire in a way that is not bound by its time, but rather having a more progressive mentality, almost as if it was anticipating the future audiences and how we were going to respond to their particular brand of peculiar humour. It goes without saying that Kind Hearts and Coronets achieves everything that it set out to do, and manages to not only be a tremendous comedy all on its own, but serves as an inspiration for subsequent works of humour, which undoubtedly took a cue from this film and its methods of experimenting with form and content in evoking laughter and inciting thought in the viewers. Entertaining, scathing and bitterly hilarious, Kind Hearts and Coronets is as close to a perfect comedy as one can get, and truly deserves every bit of praise and acclaim it has received over the past 73 years, which have been defined almost entirely by the unique approach to comedy that makes this such a terrific film.