The key to understanding the genius of Watkins as a filmmaker is understanding the nature of his films and then placing them within the context of the time in which they were made. Thought provoking and often incendiary, frequently made to look like documentaries, Watkins' films were more often than not scathing commentaries on politics and the media. Part of what makes his work so incredible is how much ahead of his time Watkins was in the message he was crafting with his film. The other part of what makes Watkins films so incredible is how relevant they are decades later--often more so than when they were initially released. This is especially true of Privilege, Watkins' recently released controversial film from 1967, which is as profound and relevant in the here and now as it was when it was released over forty years ago--perhaps even more so.

Set in the very near future, pop singer Paul Jones of Manfred Mann stars as Steven Shorter, the most popular celebrity in all of England. But Steven's popularity is more than just a case the adoration and devotion from mobs of screaming fans. His popularity is the mark of something far more sinister, as Steven has become a tool used by the powers that rule England to keep the youth in check. Through Steven's music and his actions, the restless masses have found a vicarious means to express themselves, and no longer feel the need for individuality. As the film opens, Steven is performing a live concert that is equal parts rock show and performance art, in which he is beaten and caged by police officers, all of which leads to a riot. But this is what his corporate handlers and the controlling forces of the government want--something that placates and ultimately pacifies the masses into total conformity.

Things begin to change when artist Vanessa Ritchie (Jean Shrimpton) is commissioned to paint a portrait of Steven. Vanessa sees in Steven what is left of the humanity that has been drained from him after years of being used as an agenda of propaganda, and she reaches out to what is left of the real man buried deep inside. This only makes the confused Steven even more torn, as he is used by more and more parties to drive home whatever message is being delivered to the public. When it is decided that the public needs to eat more apples, it is Steven who is called upon to make a ridiculous commercial telling all good citizens to consume six apples a day. But things take a more sinister turn when the church employs Steven as a recruiting tool, leading to a concert that bares an uncanny resemblance to a Nazi rally.

Like the majority of Watkins' best work, Privilege is a faux-documentary. This cinematic style has become a trademark of Watkins' films, but more importantly serves as one of the recurring issues in his work, which is an exploration of the media itself. In films such as Punishment Park, The War Game, The Gladiators and Privilege, the media itself becomes an integral character within the story. As a filmmaker, Watkins does not simply tell a story, he interprets it through the "impartial" eyes of the media, and in doing so creates a complicity that is used to drive home the larger statement that he is making about how information is presented. The result is a filter that creates another layer of meaning within many of Watkins films. In the case of Privilege, the film is not only a scathing portrait of Steven Shorter as a mass media tool of corporate, government and religious forces looking to control the population, it is also an interpretation of that portrait as seen through the lens of a documentary film.

Audiences and critics didn't know what to make of Privilege when it was first released. The first and only starring role for Jean Shrimpton--one of the first super models--and the debut acting role of Paul Jones, who was already popular as a rock star, it's likely people were expecting something much different from this unique pairing of iconic celebrities. Whatever it was that audiences and critics were expecting, it was almost certainly not something as unglamorous as the tortured performance of Jones, who plays Steven Shorter as if he were a man who has lost his soul, and can feel the physical aftereffects. Jones gives an incredible, largely non-verbal performance, bringing a sense of raw emotion that doesn't so much bring a sense of humanity to Privilege as it warns of its impending loss.

As a filmmaker, Watkins has never been one to pull his punches. Some of his films have moments of razor-sharp humor, but for the most part his work can be unsettling and at times even brutal--and everything is a metaphor. Many of his films, which take place in alternate realities that closely mirror our own--made all the more real by Watkins' mockumentary approach--are clever cautionary tales. And while some of the evils Watkins warned of in his works have come to pass, none of his films have been more revelatory than Privilege; which was condemned in 1967 by critics for its presentation of organized religion as a neo-fascist movement taking control of the government, and the mass media as a tool used to numb the minds of the masses. In 1967, Privilege was a warning of how bad things could get, but in 2008 it is an I-told-you-so.

Video:
Privilege is presented in 1.85:1 anamorphic widescreen. Featuring a new high definition transfer, the picture quality is wonderful. The image is incredibly clean and free of any noticeable wear, with vibrant colors that look great. So far, all of the DVD releases in the cinema of Peter Watkins collection have looked great, but this may be the best to date.

Audio:
Privilege is presented in mono, with optional English and French subtitles. The sound mix itself is good, but at times the overall levels seemed to fluctuate. On more than one occasion I found myself having to either turn the volume up or down, because the levels seemed to change noticeably.

Bonus Material:
Lonely Boy, Wolf Koenig and Roman Kroitor's 26-minute documentary about teen idol Paul Anka served as inspiration in the making of Privilege, and it is presented as the key bonus feature on the DVD. The disc also features the original trailer for Privilege, as well as a gallery of stills and posters. But the real treat is not to be found on the disc, but in the packaging, which includes a 40 page booklet with an essay by Barry Keith Grant, and a chapter from Joseph Gomez's book about Watkins. There is also a self-interview with Watkins that is incredibly informative, making the booklet an exceptional bonus item.

Final Thoughts:
Privilege is an amazing film made by an amazing director. It holds up with Watkins other work, and it retains its relevancy even after more than four decades. If you are not familiar with the work of Watkins, this is as good a film as any to start. If you are already a fan, then you will most definitely want to add this to the collection.