“All the world’s a stage,

And all the men and women are merely players;

They have their exits and their entrances;

And one man in his time plays many parts”

Starting a discussion on a film with a quote by William Shakespeare (as well as possibly his most famous piece of writing, or at least one of them) is terribly hackneyed and clichéd. Still, it makes perfect sense when we look at these lines in comparison to the magnificent writing provided by Ronald Harwood in The Dresser, his magnum opus and one of the most profoundly complex plays in the history of English theatre. Having been produced across the globe, it has struck a chord with audiences, so much that we have two very intriguing film adaptations, separated by about thirty years but united in their shared passion for this incredible material. The discussion today is focused around the 2015 adaptation, in which journeyman Richard Eyre, one of the most reliable directors presently working today, takes on the material and produces a brilliant and compelling television version that proves the strength of the material and highlights just how evocative and rich the late Harwood’s writing was when delivered by exceptional actors. It’s not a particularly complex film in premise or structure, but its inventive use of language and the way it approaches emotions that make it so impressive, and allows it to be a far more elevated version of a common premise that is not all that daring, but becomes truly captivating when put in context. A fascinating and meaningful character study that touches on several complex themes that eventually spiral into a tense psychological game of cat-and-mouse, The Dresser is truly impressive, and its relatively simple appearance should not ever be viewed as indicative of its underlying complexity, which becomes abundantly clear the further we immerse ourselves in the story.

The Dresser, like its original stage adaptation, is heavily reliant on the two actors playing the leading roles. They exist in tandem, and they not only have the responsibility of being individually excellent, but have to work together to create a very distinct relationship between these two characters. The pairing of Sir Ian McKellen and Sir Anthony Hopkins in these two central roles was an immediate indication that this was going to be something special, and for the entire duration of the film, we witness two of the finest actors of any generation playing across from each other in what is shockingly their first and (to date) only collaboration. This is the opportunity to see two titans of stage and screen take on a pair of the most challenging characters in the history of English-language theatre, absolutely devouring every word and bringing these parts to life with such vigour and complexity, we don’t even notice some of the underlying details present in this film. As one of the great two-handers in theatre history, The Dresser was always going to be a fantastic showcase for its two leads (both Tom Courtenay and Albert Finney did some of their best work in Peter Yates’ 1983 adaptation), but having two incredible icons of the industry in the roles only adds an element of prestige to this film. Neither one outwits nor overshadows the other, and despite playing characters that are propelled by an underlying sense of tension and hostility between them, they complement each other in extraordinary ways. The rest of the cast is rounded out by actors such as Emily Watson, Sarah Lanchashire, Edward Fox and Vanessa Kirby, all of which have tremendous moments, but are extremely aware that they are only secondary to the two leads, who anchor the film and give it a defining sense of gravitas from which so many of its ideas are formed.

The primary theme that underlies The Dresser is that of friendship and companionship. Having these two magnificent actors paired with one another is a great opportunity to develop a meaningful story about two industry veterans who have a long working relationship – the difference being that one is the star of the show, the world-renowned actor beloved by audiences and peers alike, whereas the other is almost entirely invisible, a man whose dominion is strictly in the squalid dressing room that becomes his stage, and where he is in control. The banter between the two oscillates between congenial and amusing, to dark and quite challenging, which highlights the fact that this professional relationship, while seemingly symbiotic on the surface, is formed from a place of deep-seated resentment that comes from the differing dynamic between the two, where their manipulation of one another has been happening for so long, they have circled back to feeling nothing but the most pleasant feelings for one another, being adequately comfortable that they each hold considerable power over the over, when in reality they have both been orbiting around the same shared delusion for years. It’s a fascinating deconstruction of the differences between these two men as they go about their nightly routine on what proves to be the final stretch of their decades-long collaboration, and this particular evening reveals itself to be the one in which all their secrets will be unearthed as a result of their egotistical ramblings that reveal far too much about what they think about one another, particularly the fact that their parasitic relationship is far more complex than simply a master-and-servant dynamic – or rather, we begin to question which of the two is truly in service of the other, a challenging question for which not even the playwright himself seems able (or willing) to provide a clear answer.

The Dresser does ultimately take the form of an upstairs-downstairs drama, insofar as it looks at the backstage routine of a theatrical company. These stories are certainly common, and something is fascinating about peering behind the curtain of something as tense and challenging as a stage show. However, the film isn’t too concerned with the mechanics of putting on a show, and instead uses its time to develop a series of fascinating conversations on several topics. Like the original play, this adaptation takes place during the Second World War, the opening scenes being just after an air raid that essentially ignites the narrative and keeps it moving consistently to the very last moments. Setting a story like this during a war is a fascinating choice – there’s nothing explicitly important about this era that would necessarily make it more appropriate for this kind of story, but it adds context, particularly in situating us in a very distinct moment in Britain’s history. These two men are far too old to fight in the war, and instead they serve the country by being entertainers, putting on a show to distract audiences. The very fact that this film takes place in the direct aftermath of an air raid, where people decided to venture out of their homes and go to the theatre, adds a level of dark irony to the plot, which is all about class and the unbearable weight of the past when it comes to the dynamic between a working-class dresser and his high-society employer, their backgrounds being extremely different, but yet they share a common goal that propels this film. There are even brief interludes in which the film discusses sexuality – it’s never explicitly stated, but it is implied that the character of Norman harbours deep affection for Sir, or at least they embody some kind of one-sided psychosexual relationship that often occurs when two people have been working together for long enough. Harwood infused his writing with so much complexity, it’s impossible to watch this film and not feel overwhelmed by the sheer volume of thematic material from which the story builds itself.

One of the most powerful testaments about the nature of performance and how some people dedicate their entire lives to the craft is reflected in Dalida’s iconic cry of “Moi je veux mourir sur scène” (“I want to die on stage”), which bears a remarkable similarity to a sentiment expressed in The Dresser, a work of literature about many different subjects, but mostly revolving around the art of acting and how it can consume one’s entire soul and lead them down a dangerous path in which reality and fantasy are indistinguishable and impossible to fully comprehend after some time. This adaptation is very simple – the stage origins of the story are very clear, and Eyre does not feel compelled to expand on the world in which this story takes place, instead relying on Harwood’s astonishing text in its purest form, only minimal changes being made for the transition from stage to screen. Despite being quite theatrical, both literally and metaphorically, The Dresser is still a complex piece of storytelling that is far bolder than simply being about two old men bickering and attempting to take advantage of each other. Instead, it’s a disquieting, shattering character study that touches on themes such as age, sexuality, identity and the human condition in profoundly off-kilter and challenging ways. Beautifully complex and driven by a genuine sense of admiration for its leads and reverence for the material, this version of The Dresser, while extremely simple, is undeniably effective, and proves to be one of the definitive adaptations of a truly vital piece of theatre, brought to life voraciously by a cast and crew dedicated to honouring the many fascinating themes embedded at the heart of this film.