User reviews

What a great time in my life, I was 14 when this film was being made in my home town of Bolton. I had already appeared as a non speaking actor in numerous TV plays and was then offered the part of a "milk boy" in this first class film. I'm still there today in the background carrying some crates of empty milk bottles to the milk truck about 40 minutes into the film. I remember the scene was filmed in Ancoats Manchester early on a Sunday morning late in the year,it was rainy and cold, but I loved every minute of it. Met and played football with the late Alan Bates between takes, those were the days, happy or what?. After all these years its still a film which I never miss on TV and I recently bought the DVD. If you get the chance to watch this 60@s classic ,do so, you won't be disappointed.

This is an excellent film for the moviegoer who likes to explore the different genres of movie-making. I would hesitate to recommend it as mainstream entertainment. It is too slow and moody for most viewers.

The social milieu of the new wave of British realism in the 50's and 60's is often marked by stark photography, aimless human lives and strict social mores. This one is part of that genre. Class clearly was at the core of this brand of cinema and the entrapment that many working class people found themselves in.

Possibly motivated by the need to expose these class distinctions, director, John Schlesinger, (and others like Tony Richardson) did not hesitate to show the fate of those on the other side of the tracks, often set in towns and cities of Northern England.

It is noteworthy to see the portrayal of a young man who gives up his dreams (travel and career) to marry his pregnant girlfriend. In an age when males are often portrayed as cads, this film is a fitting counterpoint. Being badgered by both wife and mother-in-law is what he gets for fulfilling his social obligation.

The role of Vic Brown is played by Alan Bates in one of his earliest roles. This actor, who died only a few years ago, left a strong film legacy along with many of his contemporaries...Richard Harris, Albert Finney, Tom Courtenay, Rachel Roberts, and some others. Bates gives a fine character portrayal that is well worth watching 45 years on.

This is a wonderful exploration of a young man's misgivings about being attached. It explores issues of manhood and love with great sincerity and sensitivity. Alan Bates is at his best here and the whole cast hits the mark under a careful eye. I think it is optimistic in its depiction, but most of all honest. The language is impeccable. How can you go wrong with lines such as "I am your husband if you did but know it"? Whistle Down the Wind is another with Bates in top form. Worth a look.

Hormonal trainee draughtsman Alan Bates fancies nice-but-dim typist June Ritchie.Er,that's about it really.Formula kitchen sink plot,sub-sub John Osborne/John Braine characters.Sit and watch it in the 3/9d seats whilst stuffing your face with Smith's crisp(watch out for the little blue bag containing salt) and smoking your "Strand".Turn off your brain and put your hand on your girl friend's knee.Well,that's what I did in 1963,but after about 3 minutes screen time I realised I was watching something exceptional.Somehow John Schlesinger had turned this sow's ear into a beautifully observed,moving life-affirming work of art. As an entity this film is so much better than the sum of its parts. The plaintive brass band music adds immeasurably to the atmosphere. June Ritchie is heartbreaking as the naive Ingrid and Alan Bates gives what is arguably his best film performance. The exteriors are well-chosen,the photography elegaic. All the elements for a clichefest are present,but,dammit,it turns into a tour de force.

This film reflects on how social and economic pressures impact on sexuality and relationships. Class, politics, working life, changing attitudes about gender and marriage, and even scarcity of cheap housing are all referred to or explored. Against the wider social backdrop the character of Ingrid's mother represents repression and rigidity to a large degree, although even she is shown with some saving graces. All the characters here are cast in shades of grey, all internally conflicted, all in a cauldron of social pressures. The film ends with the maturing of the main characters, and also with a note of hope. An excellent script, excellently directed and acted, and a brilliant evocation of another era.

Like another commenter here, I watched A Kind of Loving on the True Movie channel here in the UK, and was drawn to it because of its reputation. I was not disappointed: it's a fine film, and a fine example of the kitchen sink and angry young men films of the period, when British cinema was drawing attention for its unflinching realism.

I couldn't help but think of my parents while I was watching A Kind of Loving. They grew up in a different place than the North of England: Boston in the US, and in the early 1950s rather than in the early 1960s. They also came from a very different background, as children of immigrants from Eastern Europe. However, I could see the film captured their generation. Both my parents lived at home, my mother with her parents and younger brother and my father with his widowed mother. My mother worked in white collar jobs as a bookkeeper and file clerk and longed to marry like her friends did. Both wanted to do what was expected of them: setting down and raising a family.

I can imagine that they saw many of their friends having to marry at City Hall (and not have a religious wedding) because the boy got the girl "in trouble", and many of them having to move in with their in-laws to save enough to get their own place eventually. I can feel the awkwardness and shame when the young couple's relationship breaks down and the husband leaves: shame not only on the part of the woman but the man too. Alan Bates' father points out that Ingrid will have to take Victor back: what is she going to do as a divorcée in the early 1960s? Many women at the time were not seen or treated well by general society if they were divorced, especially if they were divorced and had children. There were very little marriage counseling back then as well. The film ends with a note of hope for Victor and Ingrid- perhaps a touch of resignation as well. Ironic that only a year later "sexual Intercourse began", in Larkin's phrase, and social mores began to change drastically. By the time I came of age, in the 1980s, I didn't understand my parents' attitudes towards sex and marriage, as they appeared hypocritical to me and vastly old fashioned (they were tolerant of young men who were playing the field as long as their eventual goal was marriage and having children, but harshly critical of young women who didn't hope for marriage and children and were working towards having a career and being independent). A kind of Loving helped me understand how it was for many of their generation, coming from families struggling to get by or struggling to improve their lives, and putting pressure on the coming generation to do right as well as make good. I think young people now can also relate to striving not to disappoint parents and trying to cope with meddling in-laws who feel their daughter's partner is not measuring up to expectations. Though it captures the North of Britain on the eve of massive social change A Kind of Loving has much to say about relationships and family that remains timeless.

Excellent work from all concerned has gone to create what is probably, in spite of its generally melancholy atmosphere, the warmest of the realistic school of British movies from the early 1960s. Vic Brown is not as angry as Arthur Seaton in Saturday Night and Sunday Morning nor as alienated from his family as Billy Fisher in Billy Liar. And he is more likable than either Joe Lampton in Room at the Top or Frank Machin in This Sporting Life. Both Vic and Ingrid are sympathetic, recognisable people, who find themselves trapped in a situation with which their society's stern morality of self-control and self-denial, vividly expressed by Vic's sister towards the end of the film, has no sympathy at all. We finish with them trying to muddle through, and it is this compassionate but still unresolved finale that gives the film its hesitant title.

On the production side, the script, taken from Barstow's novel by those two stalwarts, Waterhouse and Hall, is bang on target; the photography, never less than excellent, is often breathtaking, as in the wonderful long shot of a romantic couple on Southport beach, gradually withdrawing into the confines of a hotel bedroom. But the usually reliable Ron Grainer doesn't quite seem to know where he's going with the music.

The performances are wonderful. The Brown family is lovingly portrayed with the lightest of touches, with particular praise earned by those two veterans, Gwen Nelson and Bert Palmer, as the parents. In the workplace, a fine group of actors, a number of whom were to become household names in the UK in later years, show their true mettle. And leading them all, that magnificent trio of Thora Hird, June Ritchie and Alan Bates.

Of Bates, a fine actor, who left a legacy of performances on film, there's no need to say much: he's perfect for the role, gets under its skin, reveals the longings, the confusions, the contradictions, the lovability, the vulnerability and the folly. No one could ask for more or better.

Thora Hird went on to enjoy a considerable Indian summer of success under the wing of the playwright Alan Bennett, but in spite of some remarkable work during those years, it's at least arguable that she never did anything on screen as intensely realised as Mrs Rothwell. Hird ensures that she is never a figure of fun or a caricature - indeed, she is often very touching in her protectiveness towards her daughter - but at the same time she gives the comic side of the character full value.

June Ritchie is absolutely wonderful as Ingrid. She may never have become the star that, say, Julie Christie (somewhat unwillingly) became, but she was and still is a remarkable actress, worthy of the greatest of respect for her achievement here. In a remarkable way, she fulfils all that was required of a Hitchcock blond: cool on the outside, with fire inside. In fact there's a moment early in the film where she is photographed from Vic's point of view, from behind and slightly above, with a hairdo reminiscent of Kim Novak's in Vertigo. One wonders whether the movie-going that was so evidently part of life in the town spills over into Vic's imagination at this point.

This is the work of a director who seems to have fallen out of favour in recent years, and there is a case to be made that he somehow lost his way. But A Kind of Loving is one of a trio of films, along with Billy Liar and Sunday Bloody Sunday, of which any director could be proud. Of the rest of his output, perhaps only his final collaboration with Alan Bates, An Englishman Abroad, has the same balance of clear observation and compassion.

After his "Terminus" short documentary about 24 hours in the life of Waterloo Station, John Schlesinger chose to adapt a 1960 novel by Stan Barstow, called "A Kind of Loving"; pioneering a new kind of film-making, a new wave of realistic dramas named 'kitchen sink', a new breed of directors such as Lindsay Anderson and Karel Reisz.

The film opens with one of these weddings that mean business: the bride harbors a smile as dashing as her glowing dress and the plainness of the groom is the indication that this is not a marriage of passion, at least one that's meant to last. Obviously, this is not the marriage the film's interested in for the focal point is Vic Brown, the bride's charming brother, played by Alan Bates, who keeps taking photographs during the whole opening credits sequence. And one can't deny the masterstroke of expositional minimalism John Schlesinger gratifies us with: we get everything, the main protagonist, his parents (Bert Palmer and Gwen Nelson) and the idea of what a promising wedding looks like.

And time goes by and until a blonde girl cute as a button named Ingrid (June Ritchie) catches Vic's eyes: she works as a typist in the same factory he's a draughtsman in. There's not a single step of their growing romance that isn't covered by Schlesinger so that a good chunk of the film is devoted to the building of their relationship. And if their awkwardness strikes a chord of realism, it also tends to slow down things a bit and the setting of the 1960s Lancashire doesn't offer much to keep your eye occupied. It didn't strike me as a 'weakness' immediately but once the 'troubles' began, I started to wonder why it took so long to get to the narrative 'epiphany'.

Then it hit me, neither Vic nor June are too poor or too rich but both possess one undeniable quality: they're attractive. Indeed, Bates and Richie are so photogenic that no lenses in Schlesinger's camera is spared to capture the intensity in Bates' blue eyes, I suspect that film might have made him an instant heartthrob and that Schlesinger couldn't help but overstate the whole 'dark, tall and brooding' trope, like he would do (and overdo) with Julie Christie as the lively bubbly young blonde. That's the trouble when your protagonists are too beautiful for the film's own good. Ritchie isn't given as many generous close-ups and is often shown in frames also occupied by her horrendously domineering mother, magnificently played by Thora Hird.

And so the first part shows them flirting around, going to the movies, having these moments of awkwardness that precedes the little kiss. I didn't mind these interactions because they were well done, well acted, well shot, although it was hard to believe such a beautiful guy would lose his self-control with a gal that didn't exactly played 'hard to get'. But Schlesinger was still inexperienced and I guess he wasn't yet willing to swim out of his depth and went step by step with more and more risqué and explicit stuff until leaving more room for surrealism. But for a start, Schlesinger chooses a straight-to-the-point approach.

The thing about "A Kind of Loving" is that it establishes a real truth about the gap of communication between guys and girls, and the pivotal part sex plays for the better or the worse. Vic is subject of post-coital depression and Ingrid is just the kind of idealistic overly pampered provincial flower so blinded by love she can't detect within the man's spleen simply a lack of excitement. Naturally, any chance to leave on good terms is terminated with a pregnancy and the subsequent shotgun wedding that looks as cheerful as a funeral (strangely one of the film's highlights). And there's something tragically karmic (not to say comic) to see this poor hunk being trapped and see the love of his life turning into a sidekick to a bossy know-it-all old hag... and as someone who went through divorce, I had a certain pervert delight to see these things happening to someone else.

Inevitably, I will say it's a solid kitchen sink drama, after other titles I watched this year such as "Room at the Top", "Saturday Night and Sunday Morning", "Billy Liar", The Loneliness of the Distant-Runner", "This Sporting Life" and so many raw portrayals of youth entrapped in world of convenances sterilizing their appetite for thrills and personal fulfillment... among which "A Kind of Loving" was the only one not listed in the British Film Institute Top 100. Alan Bates starred in many films from the list but not as one of the 'angry young men' immortalized by Albert Finney, Tom Courtenay or Richard Harris whose rawer features allowed their intensity to shine in other territories than aesthetics.

But Vic is the least obvious a member of the club for he strikes more as a frustrated, indecisive fellow who's life has taken a wrong path because he couldn't make up his mind, and there's something more that might have made the film miss the list (although Schlesinger has four films in it)... a sort of obsession with realism that aseptises the film and prevents it from developing the kind of fierce passion you keep longing for. Maybe Bates' Vic is too civilized for the film's own good or Ritchie's Ingrid too banal to be worth our empathy. We do sympathize with the two characters but I wished the film could say a little louder what it's merely whispering and maybe took more risks.

Ultimately, "A Kind of Loving" is en emotional ride over the ups and downs of two young persons who are more obliged by a sense of necessary commitment than any form of love. That they decided to give themselves a chance is certainly a less angry conclusion but that didn't make it any happier to me...

The statement this movie is making us if it weren't for idiots too dumb to use birth control, "humanity" would die out.

Its a real downer looking back since the problem isn't any better today. If anything, it us much worse.

I own very few movies - this is one of them. I've seen it many times and am always moved.

It is of course part of the special "Angry Young Man" genre that includes Billy Liar, The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner, The Entertainer, Darling, A Taste of Honey, This Sporting Life, Look Back in Anger, Room at the Top, Saturday Night and Sunday Morning - and in later years, In Celebration and The Homecoming.

Such novelists/playwrights as John Braine, Alan Sillitoe, David Storey, John Osborne, Arnold Wesker, John Wain, Shelagh Delaney, directors like Karel Reisz, John Schlesinger, Lindsay Anderson and Tony Richardson, and such screenwriters as Waterhouse and Hall (who wrote this as Billy Liar).

The movies are primarily about men trapped by place and morality -- and either lashing out/escaping or trying to accommodate themselves to their situation. Most are set in the north of England - all are about people from working class backgrounds.

Stars like Richard Harris, Julie Christie, Alan Bates, Ian Holm, Albert Finney, and Tom Courtenay broke in their film teeth with these movies - and others such as Richard Burton, Lawrence Olivier, Laurence Harvey and Dirk Bogarde revealed their expansive range.

The protagonists are often not likable - certainly the pitiful Archie Rice in The Entertainer, Burton's character in Look Back in Anger, Finney's in Saturday Night and Sunday Morning, Courtenay's character in "Long Distance Runner" or Richard Harris' character -- are all people you'd rather not accompany on a long train journey.

However, Vic Brown, the protagonist in this one - is largely sympathetic (and wonderfully written and portrayed). His plight is just so realistic - and the consequences so easy to believe.

There are many things that our lad gets wrong - unable to break things off with a woman, he simply ignores her (and speaks badly of her to others) - yet is helpless when she suggests they get together again. In part, this is because his lust masters him - and in part because he just can't bear to tell someone he no longer wants to see her.

As awful as most audiences will find Ingrid's mother (wonderfully played), one can also have sympathy for her - a widow overly protective of her only child, and the circumstances in which her child finds herself.

The modesty of the characters is wonderful yet not overly done - it is the characteristic that yields immense sympathy in the viewer - this is especially true of the Brown family - from "our Christine" and her gentle husband to Vic's wonderful father and brother to his forceful mother.

Most of the reviews speak of this very much as a look back in time - I think it's not so past.

The themes are universal and timeless: lust and its consequences, indecision about a romantic partner, the division between a young person's caution about taking the right steps in life and closeness to family vs. inchoate yearnings to do great things far away - these are the stuff of such plays as The Fantasticks and such movies as It's a Wonderful Life. (Donna Reed's character wanted Jimmy Stewart's no less than Ingrid wanted Vic - and both men had dreamt to be far away doing great things).

This is wonderful - it will strike anyone as sharply observed, wonderfully written - and very moving.

Up until the 1960s, films made it appear as if folks who got married only married because they were deeply in love. Marriages forced due to pregnancy were hardly ever talked about in films...though in real life, apparently such marriages were pretty common. This film chronicles one of these marriages.

Vic and Ingrid (Alan Bates and June Ritchie) work at the same office. Vic is a draftsman...a pretty good job for the time. One day, he notices her on a bus and soon he asks her out...and they seem to hit it off well. However, over time, his ardor seems to cool and in an effort to stir up the relationship or get him to commit, she agrees to put out...and soon becomes pregnant. He married her, because that's expected, but there sure isn't any sort of love or romance at this point in their relationship. In addition, Vic moves in with his wife and mother-in-law and the in-law isn't exactly easy to like nor warms up to him. Does the young couple stand a chance? And, what's next for them...as a couple or as individuals?

This is a definite no-frills sort of movie...free from the usual cliches and with very realistic acting. In some ways, it reminds me of a French New Wave film, as it deliberately avoids the usual conventions. So, if you are looking for a traditional romance, you might want to try a different film. Still, it is well made and different.

I can watch this touching film over and over.

The black and white enhances the dramatic landscapes and atmosphere.

My favourite scene is the railway station where Vic hits rock bottom.

I also like the shelter scene as Vic pushes his luck and the picture pans back to the carved inscriptions.

It makes me wish I had been born in those times, with community spirit, dance halls and pubs with conversation for entertainment, football terraces and steam trains.

It is also interesting to spot so many young actors who found later fame such as "Nora Batty", James Bolam, Leonardo rossiter etc.

I found this film rather depressing. The whole affair between Vic and Ingrid was doomed from the outset. I don't know if Alan Bates was purposely cast as much older than 19 year old Ingrid, but it looked wrong. They were both naïve, but Vic should have been younger to carry that off.

I can't say I was ever a great fan of Alan Bates, but he's really quite good in this - for the time - almost raunchy romantic drama. He is factory worker "Vic" who takes a bit of a shine to the shy "Ingrid" (June Ritchie) - well, she takes more of a shine to him, actually. What now ensues is a sort top-of-the-bus courtship, a movie, a snog on the beach and then... She becomes pregnant, a shotgun wedding follows and thought the pair do genuinely like one another, it's clear that there's some rather unpleasant writing on the wall. He's an ambitious character. His traditional working class roots are ones he wants to leave behind. His new family status makes him feel trapped and hemmed in. His future somehow snatched away from him. Needless to say, his character changes and that sets him at odds with his new wife - and with her mother (Thora Hird) who lives with them and rarely misses an opportunity to make her presence felt. How long can he tolerate this self-made scenario before something has to give? Bates convinces as his increasingly frustrated persona as does Ritchie whose character finds herself increasingly ostracised from an husband she loves but doesn't understand. Hird features sparingly but actually offers quite a cleverly constructed characterisation of either the interfering mother-in-law or the caring and responsible parent. That all depends on your perspective and though the story is definitely told from that of "Vic", I think John Schlesinger leaves enough ambiguity of loyalty for the audience to deal with. Though there's little graphic here that might have offended in 1962, the subject matter does challenge the ingrained societal approaches to marriage, to choice and to aspiration in quite a potent fashion and presents us here with a story that does take it's time to get going - but then, so do most romances!

June Ritchie makes this story work. She gives an unaffected portrayal of a young woman needing to overcome her vulnerability with a combination of guile and passive aggression. It's the truest and most honest performance in the film. Bates is a star, Ritchie works a miracle. James bolam is quietly brilliant and. The supporting cast is of the salt of the earth type of genius available to directors at that time. I did not read the book but I feel the this movie version makes the task unnecessary.? What a great period of story telling this was. Bates was wonderful on film but on stage he was even more special. I was lucky to experience both. His hamlet. Though forgotten, was so pure, so honest, so sexy.

Bates plays a young draughtsman at a factory oop north who falls for June Ritchie. She becomes pregnant and the 2 have to marry, which presents difficult challenges.

A key player in the oop north / kitchen sink dramas of the sixties, this is another impressive glimpse into the lives of ordinary folk and the difficult challenges they face. Quite risqué for its day, it is honest about class structure and snobbery, sex and sexism and the battle to cope, bolstered by great direction and first class performances from everyone, particularly Bates. It is serious and quite depressing, but never boring and whilst none of the characters are particularly appealing your interest in them and what will become of the couple holds your attention.

There's a frustrated young man, name of Vic, from a pool of young ladies he's picked, Ingrid Rothwell's her name, with a blonde flowing mane, she's the lass with whom he wants to tick. Ingrid's just as fond of this lad, now he's making advances she's glad, but he runs hot and cold, wants to do more than hold, so she lets him explore and un-clads. No surprise as nature takes its course, with a marriage hastily brought forth, which Vic starts to abhor, lives with Mother-in-Law, and his compass no longer points north.

Great dialogue, great performances, in a perpetually told tale of the ages, where the outcomes invariably reflect the times when the drama takes place, and leave you grateful for the times you live in today - I think it's called progress.