I rewatched Withnail and I today. I probably haven't watched it in 20 years. It's better than I remembered though many would probably beg to differ. The BBC article points out "Another issue was the almost total absence of a plot." But when does life have an identifiable plot?
I was taken with the final speech given by Richard E. Grant's Withnail. It's from Hamlet. I have a collection of all of Shakespeare's plays published in 1926 and I took it down from the shelf, probably for the first time since I moved into this house a decade ago, and found the passage. The pages are yellow. The book smells musty. And I read Hamlet. Not all of it, but some small part of it.
Apparently the original ending was:
Withnail gets having said his goodbyes to Marwood and drinks a shotgun full of Margeaux before blowing his brains out. Not surprisingly, this original ending was shelved for being too 'dark'.
That's all. Nothing more.
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