Spoiler Alert. This is a critical essay, not a review, so plot points are revealed for discussion
Vivien: “Something is going on, and I want to know what it is.”
Not only a line from the film, but a phrase I caught myself repeating several times
while watching this mesmerizingly offbeat, very ‘60s, psychosexual drama.
Negatives, a movie about three unconventional individuals in an unconventional relationship, filmed in an unconventional style, is very much a Sixties zeitgeist film. A psychedelic, counterculture product of its time, it nevertheless failed to garner much attention during its initial release. Fated to be a movie that time just seemed to pass right by.
But time is a tricky thing, and Negatives, a refreshingly kink-positive film about erotic obsession that touches on such contemporary culture-war topics as cosplay, gender identity, aromanticism, bisexuality, cross-dressing, polyamory, and sexual fluidity—may have taken nearly 60 years to get here (never granted an official VHS or DVD release, it’s now available in restored, pristine Blu-ray), but it’s a movie whose time may have finally come. Again.
I was 11 years old in 1968, but I have no direct recollection of its original theatrical release (it opened in San Francisco in November of 1968). However, I did get the opportunity to see it sometime in the early to mid-‘70s, when Negatives was shown on a late-night TV program called “The Adults Only Movie,” broadcast by the independent Bay Area UHF station KEMO-TV (that name!...Channel 20). The program's irresistible-to-an-adolescent title was mostly a come-on, for the films screened were merely an eclectic mix of tangentially sexual foreign films and stateside exploitation flicks presented with minimal editing.
By then a high schooler in the early throes of taking myself very seriously as a film buff, I thank “The Adults Only Movie” for introducing me to movies like Robert Altman's That Cold Day in the Park (1969), Elio Petri’s The Tenth Victim (1965), and those Italian anthology films that seemed to be all the rage in the '60s (Yesterday Today and Tomorrow, Bocaccio '70). And, most memorably for me, the occasional screening of homoerotic cult curios like the Helmut Berger version of Dorian Gray (1970), and Michael Cacoyannis’ The Day the Fish Came Out (1967).
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| Apropos of a movie in which costumes and masquerade play a significant part, Negatives opened in Los Angeles at the Granada Theater on Wednesday, October 30, 1968 - the day before Halloween. |
Unfortunately, my memories of that first viewing of Negatives are as murky as the UHF reception on the tiny black-and-white TV set I watched it on in my bedroom. Mostly, what I remember is that it aired at the peak of my Glenda Jackson mania, so seeing her in something new (something that didn't require her to appear in period costuming ...sort of) was a big thrill. I also recall that, while I was quite taken with the film's abstract structure and atmosphere of arty decadence, the strongest impression Negatives left me with was that it was an enigma. I found it mystifying. Indeed, so much showy, deliberate equivocation made me think I was watching an extended, uncharacteristically horny, episode of Night Gallery.
I didn’t see Negatives again until some 30 years later, via a blurry bootleg DVD+R copy burned from a TV broadcast ...but at least this time it was in color! And better still, by then, life experience and having read the source material—author Peter Everett (with Roger Lowry) very faithfully adapted his 1965 novel for the screenplay—made me appreciate the wisdom of art critic John Berger's contention that art changes depending on who we are when we experience it. Upon revisiting this film, what once seemed so impenetrably ambiguous about Negatives now spoke to me with an unexpected psychological perceptiveness and emotional poignance.
" I don't know who I am sometimes."
Clearly, part of the problem with my first viewing of Negatives was that I approached it like a typical, realist narrative. It's not. In straining to ascribe naturalist coherence to a narrative that is essentially impressionistic—depicting the fragmented psychological and emotional inner lives of the characters—I failed to consider that the film's then distractingly stylized visuals (which I took for no more than trendy, youth-movie window dressing) might actually be the director's chosen cinematic vocabulary to best dramatize the film's central conflict.
Which brings me to my second insight attained from a second viewing: I hadn't previously grasped that Negatives' central dramatic conflict takes the form of a three-pronged identity crisis. And as anyone familiar with me and my film preferences must know by now, I'm a sucker for a good identity-crisis movie. Among the films that explore the fluidity of identity, the human need for connection, and the struggle to find one's authentic self, a few of my favorites are: Performance (1970), Secret Ceremony (1968), Images (1972), 3 Women (1977), and Black Swan (2010).
In telling its story about the sensual intersection of three lives, Negatives poses many intriguing questions (and precious few answers) about the boundaries of human self-understanding and identity. Through symbolism and metaphor, it examines how the roles we assume and disguises we wear—both literal and figurative—shape our elemental sense of self.
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| "Who's afraid to live without false illusions?" |
Critic quotes comparing Negatives to Edward Albee's Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf ? are apt but superficial. Both indeed concern themselves with couples whose dysfunctional, psychologically abusive relationships are sustained by the upholding of illusions. But that's pretty much where the similarities end. For me, Negatives has more in common with the allegorical plays of Jean Genet (specifically The Balcony and The Maids [the latter film adaptation starring Glenda Jackson]) in which characters resort to pretense and blurred-line illusions to achieve the sensation of wielding power or to vent their frustration with the insignificance of their real lives.
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| Glenda Jackson as Vivien |
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| Peter McEnery as Theo |
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| Diane Cilento as Reingard |
Negatives is an erratic, erotic drama about a young London couple—Theo and Vivien—who live a life of rudderless dissatisfaction in a flat above a cluttered-by-the-debris-of-other-people’s-lives antiquities shop owned by Theo’s dying father.
When not desultorily overseeing the shop, the pair, whose open-ended relationship appears not to be based on anything resembling love… or even like, turn disappointment and self-loathing into a kind of performance art by funneling their sexual and emotional codependency into ritualized roleplay.
Fueled by an amorphous desire as compulsive as it is elusive, Theo and Vivien’s sex life is sustained by elaborate games of dress-up, play-acting, and the adoption of different personas. Their baffling masquerade of choice: Theo pretends to be real-life Edwardian-era wife-murderer Dr. Hawley Harvey Crippen while Vivien alternates between impersonating Crippen’s domineering wife, Belle Elmore, and his adoring mistress, Ethel Le Neve.
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| Donald Pleasence and Samantha Eggar in the British biographical crime film "Dr. Crippen" (1963) |
An American doctor convicted and hanged in London in 1910 for the murder and dismemberment of his wife, I'd never even heard of Dr. Crippen before seeing Negatives. But recently, I did get the chance to see the 1963 British film based on the case and enjoyed it a great deal (Coral Browne is terrific as the wife). An intriguing and amusing aspect emerges in Crippen and Le Neve's efforts to elude the police, with his mistress disguising herself as his teenage son. They hope to escape England by ship, but they inadvertently draw attention to themselves as the father-and-son shipboard passengers who can't keep their hands off one another!
(In Negatives, Vivien baits Theo about their Crippen cosplay: "Or do you prefer it when I'm disguised as a boy?")
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| "Some people refuse to be themselves. they only want to be somebody else." |
Apart from a vague, half-truth statement by Theo suggesting the whole Dr. Crippen fantasy was all Vivien’s idea (to which Vivien responds with her usual sarcasm: “And Theo doesn’t like it? No, he gets nothing out of it. Nothing at all”)—just why this morbid masquerade was selected or what they get out of it is, like a great many things in this film, ambiguous.
What is known—as Negatives introduces us to this pair at the point in their relationship when these ceremonial charades have become a rote, mutually unsatisfying routine—is that Theo and Vivien use sex to avoid emotional intimacy, not achieve it. Moreover, when not engaged in acts of play-acted passion, every word they speak to one another is fraught with acrimony and hostility.
Vivien: "Why do people force you to lie to them, I wonder?"
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| Billy Russell as Massinger |
All is playacting for Theo. Feeling ineffectual in his life and powerless in the face of his father’s cancer, he pretends on his hospital visits that all is well health-wise and that things at the shop are better than they actually are. With Vivien unwilling to relate to him without some form of game-playing (even when they go out to the movies, she insists they pretend to be strangers flirting), the only person Theo can talk to and be himself with is the shop's avuncular upholsterer, Massinger.
“We just sort of go along, and nothing happens. We’re in a terrible rut. I guess we’ll just have to wait for a miracle or something.” - Shadow of a Doubt (1943)
In the Hitchcock film referenced above, a young woman (Teresa Wright), bored with the routine of her small-town life, idly wishes for the intervention of “A wonderful person to shake us all up. The one who’ll save us.” Her wish is fulfilled when her favorite uncle (Joseph Cotton) arrives, but as she gradually uncovers that he is a serial killer, her illusions are shattered. Her eyes are opened to how her family’s “boring” life of structured routine has been a mask protecting them from reality’s intrusion, creating a false sense of safety and control in a world that’s inherently chaotic, unpredictable, and dangerous.
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| She Likes to Watch In her delightful memoir, Oscar-nominee Diane Cilento (Tom Jones) recounts an amusing story in which Laurence Olivier, anticipating casting her in one of his National Theater productions, went to see Negatives and, during their meeting, talked for an uncomfortably long time about how bad her wig was in the film. |
A similar thing happens in Negatives, when the delicate balance of coping mechanisms Theo and Vivien have erected around their existential ennui is disrupted by the arrival of an enigmatic photographer (and chaos agent) named Reingard. Well, saying that’s her name may be inaccurate—for when she introduces herself, she doesn’t say “My name is Reingard”; she says “You can call me Reingard.” Which, of course, is just the kind of ambiguous identity gambit that makes her the ideal “one” to shake things up by turning this duo into a trio.
Moving into the spare room above the antique shop, Reingard soon reveals herself to be every bit as kink-inclined as her landlords and wastes no time establishing herself as a kind of communal erotic catalyst—reigniting Theo’s libido while simultaneously rousing Vivien’s bisexuality.
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| Theo confronts Reingard about her best friend in Rome who just happens to look exactly like Vivien |
Where Reingard reveals herself to be most impactful, however, is in the role of psychological provocateur. Acting as a literal game-changer, she encourages Theo to abandon the dead-end, ill-fitting guise of the ineffectual Dr. Crippen in favor of one she asserts is a much better fit: German WWI flying ace Baron von Richthofen. Fascinatingly, perhaps tellingly, the options of facing reality, being oneself, or abandoning coital cosplay altogether are never really on the table.
But dismantling illusions is risky business and comes at a high price. A price our tripartite trysters discover is more than any of them bargained for.
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| When Reality Won't Do |
WHAT I LOVE ABOUT THIS FILM
Negatives is the first feature film by Hungarian director Peter Medak (The Ruling Class -1972, The Krays -1990). Knowing this goes a long way toward explaining its impassioned audacity, solemn self-seriousness, and kid-in-a-candy-store lack of restraint in its use of arty cinematic effects. Every assured, beautifully photographed frame of Negatives (cinematographer: Ken Hoges) shows Medak to be a filmmaker with a distinct creative vision who knows exactly what he’s doing and what he's trying to say. And clearly doesn’t mind keeping that information to himself.
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| Mortality and Existential Dread Theao visits his gravely ill father (Maurice Denham) in the hospital. In Tennessee Williams' play, Sweet Bird of Youth, a character refers to sex as "The only dependable distraction." Theo distracts himself with sex as a means of keeping his fear of death at bay. |
Whether they’re called fringe, experimental, or avant-garde, I’ve always been drawn to idiosyncratic films of a distinctly personal bent that explore cinema’s ability to convey subjective psychological and emotional experience visually. Since the main characters in Negatives are so sketchily drawn, less real people than a trio of anthropomorphized neuroses linked in an absurdist pas de trois of existential alienation, the intensely stylized look of Negatives—all metaphor (masquerade!), symbolism (flying!), and macro close-ups of eyes, lips, and lashing tongues—provides the internal conflicts with the dramatic dimension the characters occasionally lack.
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| I Can't Get No Satisfaction Reingard and Vivien lose themselves in fantasy masquerade while Theo looks to be questioning his life choices |
PERFORMANCES
That Negatives earns the distinction of being cited as future multi-Oscar winner Glenda Jackson’s first film is largely a matter of finding a marketing reason to dismiss and/or recategorize her first two screen appearances, both of which are adaptations of Royal Shakespeare Company productions directed by Peter Brook: Marat/Sade (1967) and Tell Me Lies (1968). A movie touting "Glenda Jackson in her 3rd film role!" doesn't have quite the same ring to it.
Given my longstanding, exhaustively cataloged fanboy adoration for all things Glenda Jackson, it's hardly revelatory that I find her fiery performance the film's standout. Most would be wise to be skeptical, for I'm as objective about Glenda Jackson as I am about Julie Christie.
Jackson's forceful presence enlivens every scene, complementing via counterpoint McEnery's passive melancholy and Cilento's playful, vaguely sinister mystery. All give superb performances and gamely embrace the film's outré spirit, but it's Peter McEnery's Theo--the film's most developed character and the only one given an arc--who proves to be Negatives' emotional fulcrum. The subtly expressive actor makes Theo's inner journey something anyone who's ever had to resort to wearing masks and assuming false identities to navigate through life can relate to.
THE STUFF OF FANTASY
Negatives' strong suit is that it is very much a style piece with a strong visual aesthetic. I particularly liked the opening credits sequence, which consists of still images of Theo and Vivien dressing for their "game." The photos are by the popular British photographer David Steen. You can check out his iconic celebrity photos here: David Steen Archive.
THE STUFF OF DREAMS
Negatives may be a product of its time in its appearance, but the issues on the table in its narrative--people masking their identities as a coping mechanism for feelings of alienation and dissociation--seem up-to-the-minute relevant in today's world. A world where the depressed and disconnected can live their emotional lives through the filtered, fabricated, curated-selfie personas they adopt (and hide behind) online.
A 1960s film critic (a film cynic, more likely) once observed that if you can figure it out, you can't call it an art film. I'm not fond of movies that use obfuscation as a shortcut to profundity, either, and certainly Negatives feels at times a symbolism-laden puzzle that is vexingly vague when all you’re really wanting is a straight answer to the question “What the hell is going on here?”
But as movies today become ever more blatantly “corporate content,” committed to spelling out every little detail and placating the only half-attentive streamers with closure here and closure there, I think there's much to be said for a movie that doesn’t do all the work for you. That asks you to interpret, fill in the blanks, and arrive at your own conclusions. Ultimately, it challenges the viewer to be okay with not having all the answers, to be fine with the possibility that there are MANY answers, or to be intrigued by a film that ends and leaves you thinking and asking questions.
It calls to mind a quote from On a Clear Day You Can See Forever (another movie whose protagonist seeks to align their identity to the past), psychiatrist Marc Chabot tells time-tripping Daisy Gamble, “I used to be in love with answers, but since I’ve known you, I’m just as astounded by questions. Answers make you wise, questions make you human.”
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"Well, perhaps one day you’ll find a game.
Some tremendous game. Your own game."
The Blu-ray release of Negatives includes commentary tracks by the film's director, Peter Medak, still with us at age 88, and its star, Peter McEnery, the last living member of the cast. I've held off on listening to them until I finish this essay. I can't wait!
BONUS MATERIAL
Though cartoonist Charles M. Schulz's Peanuts comic strip characters have been around since 1950, Snoopy first began his imaginary battles with the Red Baron in October of 1965 (Peter Everett's novel was published that same year, eight months earlier). For some reason, this fantasist beagle and his adventures captured the imagination of the country (I was a big fan of the Peanuts comic strip, but Snoopy always worked my last nerve), and in the '60s, you couldn't turn around without encountering Snoopy on posters, greeting cards, T-shirts, and in song.
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| The novelty single Snoopy vs. The Red Baron by The Royal Guardsmen was released in 1966 |
Given all this, I can only imagine a film featuring a character who assumes the identity of the real-life Red Baron, German Air Force fighter pilot Manfred Albrecht Freiherr von Richthofen, and fantasizes about WWI battles while sitting in his engineless Tiger Moth airplane on his roof, must have hit a little differently in 1968.
Negatives' surreal ending feels deeply serious now, but was anyone able to take it seriously then? Did they see Theo as a human Snoopy, reenacting WWI battles in his head? Did audiences giggle and shout "Curse You, Red Baron!" at the screen?
Clip from "Negatives" (1968)
Copyright © Ken Anderson 2009 - 2026
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