Moonlighting (1982)

"Excuse me, Sir. May I see your receipt?"

‘A London lost, a London vanished…’

It's a Jeremy Irons Double Bill on Luke Honey's WEEKEND FLICKS. Cinema for Grown-Ups. First up is Jerzy Skolimowski's Moonlighting from 1982. Nowak (Jeremy Irons) leads a gang of illegal Polish workmen 'doing up' a desirable Kensington townhouse over Christmas. At the time of the Solidarity protests (and martial law) in Poland. That, essentially, is the plot—and it's strangely compelling. And despite Jezza's dodgy accent, it also happens to be a brilliant film. I like it a lot.

‘Cardigan-clad Majors (Pay Corps, Rtd.)’

Moonlighting is a slice of a London lost, a London vanished: Kensington in the very early 80s, a world of Express Dairy milk floats and bottles on doorsteps, tatty mini-supermarkets, chic London townhouses juxtaposed with shabby gentility: strapped-for-cash Old Dears; Bridge and a blue rinse; cardigan-clad Majors (Pay Corps, Rtd.) living off their meagre pensions; sitting on potential property fortunes. A world of open Routemasters and the rumble of a black cab. By today's standards, the London of Moonlighting looks grimy, run-down, and decidedly weary. Yet, even then, compared to the Soviet bloc, it’s a land of milk and honey. We forget how lucky we are.

Moonlighting…

And as with The Servant (1963) and Sleuth (1972)— two of my all-time favourite films, the house is the star. A house, I gather, which belonged to the director. It's in Canning Place, Kensington, W8, one of those oh-so-English Cluedobeathan jobs— hard to date accurately, but probably early '20s, with latticed bays and olde oak doors with Arts & Crafts ironwork. Actually, the more I think about it, the more I like the idea of an early 80s Kensington house along these lines. Dead bijou. A place to recline, listen to Bach's Well-Tempered Clavier on the Hi-Fidelity equipment, and play backgammon.