Acorn Media has released Rising Damp: The Movie, a fair-to-middling 1980 theatrical adaptation of the beloved Yorkshire Television/ITV series that ran in the U.K. from 1974 to 1978. Starring the same cast (save Richard Beckinsale) from the series, and headlined by the magnificently grotty Leonard Rossiter, Rising Damp: The Movie may not reach the heights of hilarity that the TV show regularly achieved, but it does serve as a nice post-script to the series, and may spur the uninitiated to seek out the superior original.

Rossiter plays Rupert Rigsby, a suspicious, meddling, prejudiced landlord who lets out rooms in his crumbling, moldering townhouse in an unnamed English city. Regular tenants include Philip (Don Warrington), a black medical student who claims to be an African prince with ten wives, and Miss Ruth Jones (Frances de la Tour), an oversexed, hopelessly romantic spinster who covets Philip, and who avoids the lecherous Rigsby at all costs. Into this hellhole comes John (Christopher Strauli), a hopelessly naïve art student whom Rigsby cons into sharing a room with Philip. A final lodger comes to Rigsby's townhouse, Seymour (Denholm Elliott), a smooth, hustling sharpie who has eyes for Miss Jones...and her money.

Rising Damp: The Movie's plot is cobbled together from three previous episodes of the series, so those familiar with the show will no doubt be a bit disappointed at seeing this deja vu retooling. Bits and pieces of business, like the boxing match with Philip or the tenants coming to the aid of Miss Jones before she's fleeced by Seymour, should be beside the point in Rising Damp: The Movie, as the plots often were in the TV series. The main attraction of the series was the magnificent Rossiter, and his sneering, wheedling, insulting, craven landlord character he so brilliantly created. The fun (and the meaning) of the show came from his interplay with the other tenants; it didn't matter so much what was actually happening in the sometimes thin plots. Unfortunately, with the original experience of the multi-episode TV series limited to 95 minutes by the theatrical film format, the plot becomes more important than the accumulated exposure to these characters, creating a closed-off, almost claustrophobic experience.

Still, it's hard to dislike the film when you get a chance to see Rossiter, having the Rigsby character down pat, in all his seedy glory. The series was (and continues to be) such a popular show because Rigsby is so emblematic of a certain recognizable Englishman (in the same fashion that Archie Bunker hit such a responsive chord in America): that vainglorious, utterly closed-off, foolish, prejudiced failure who constantly whines about what he (and by extension, England) could have become, "had the War not come along." The title of the series and the film, "Rising Damp," is indicative of what the series' creator, Eric Chappell, was trying to illustrate through the Rigsby character. "Rising damp" is a term used in the U.K. for water and mold damage that gradual occurs in older homes and buildings. And Rigsby's townhouse is a perfect example of this condition, as well as a perfect metaphor for the rot and inattention that Chappell sees in the England of the 1970s. Rigsby and Englishmen like him fall back on fantasies of Empire and greatness prior to the Second World War, unable and unwilling to cope with the drastic economic and societal downturns that occurred after England "won the war and lost the peace of the Second World War. Rigsby's refusal to take responsibility for the damp and rot that's eating away at England's society, while spinning his own fantasies of pretensions to bourgeoisie middle-class status (when leaving the townhouse, he drives a beat-up old Triumph, while wearing riding gloves, a jaunty cap, and a sports coat with a bogus crest on the pocket), seems indicative, according to Chappell, of a large number of Englishmen who refused to give up some of their more restrictive "Englishness," creating through their prejudices and small-minded views, their own world of misery and failure.

And Rossiter, to his great credit, doesn't spare us the contempt we feel for Rigsby, even though he's canny enough (as were the creators of the series) to keep Rigsby, ultimately, a sympathetic character. Like a dyspeptic Popeye, Rossiter's Rigsby is a grotesque; a mincing, hopping toad who alternately spits bile (at his black tenant), or offers uncouth, ultimately repugnant advances to Miss Jones, or offers pusillanimous, lick-spittle obsequiousness to the outwardly posh Seymour (who easily fools blinded, class-conscious Rigsby). And much of the verve and energy (and the big laughs) of the series (and to an extent, the movie) comes from Rigsby's cringe-inducing abuse of his tenants.

But the makers of the film are smart enough to keep Rigsby essentially a pathetic character, and thus, we ultimately feel sympathy for him, or else we would despise him with no respite. Phil, the most obvious target of Rigsby's prejudices, is ironically the person most tolerant of his behavior. The smooth, educated Phil is rather bemused by the hopeless antics of Rigsby; he's learned long ago how to play him to his own advantage. And Miss Jones, while not initially attracted to Rigsby, soon learns that Rigsby, no matter how outwardly base and common, is rather sweet and loyal to those he thinks of as "family." Phil learns this too about Rigsby; when a potential bombshell is revealed about Phil's past, it's Rigsby who supports him without a second thought.

The film's loss of Richard Beckinsale as Alan George Moore (the popular Beckinsale had died tragically of a heart attack the previous year, at only 31) is not made up by the inclusion of Strauli, who, although technically fine as the naïve John, can't replace Beckinsale in the minds' of the original series' fans. Still, those new to Rising Damp won't notice, but the film's creators give the character little to do, anyway. de la Tour and Warrington are bright and amusing here (de la Tour, in particular, knows how to add whimsical little bits of business; watch her swoon delightedly as she tries to entice Warrington in the boxing ring as she offers herself up as the "prize"), and Elliott, as always, is polished and nicely arch. But it's Rossiter's movie all the way. Despite director Joe McGrath's (Casino Royale, The Magic Christian) distracting insistence on keeping the camera down low and shooting up at all the action, Rossiter manages to hold our attention regardless of who's in camera range, effortlessly coming up with bits of pinched-off, strangled comic business that are quite hilarious. Rossiter, who also died way before his time, has always been a particular favorite of mine (his other cult TV show, The Fall and Rise of Reginald Perrin, is an equally brilliant, surreal masterpiece); those unfamiliar with his work might find Rising Damp: The Movie a good starting place to appreciate this much-missed comedic actor.

The DVD:

The Video:
The anamorphically enhanced, 1.78:1 widescreen video transfer for Rising Damp: The Movie is adequate, with the soft lighting and grimy colors typical of late 70s, early 80s low-budget ITC productions.

The Audio:
The Dolby Digital English mono track accurately reflects the original theatrical presentation. Some of the dialogue, unfortunately, gets garbled (probably poor sound recording from the original materials); too bad there aren't any subtitles or close-captions to help out.

The Extras:
The original trailer for Rising Damp: The Movie is included, along with a photo gallery and a sparse selection of text filmographies for the cast.

Final Thoughts:
It's not the series by any stretch, but enough of Rising Damp: The Movie approximates that marvelously funny show that those who love the original will no doubt enjoy this final go-around for the original cast, while newcomers might be spurred to seek out the original. The late, great Leonard Rossiter is in peak form as the hilariously odious Mr. Rigsby, and the script's antics, while not at all original, still generate some solid laughs. I recommend Rising Damp: The Movie.