King Ralph

Ralph (John Goodman) plays a third-rate Las Vegas lounge singer who finds himself crowned king of England after the entire royal family is electrocuted during a photo session and he happens to be the only obscure remnant of the royal house of Wyndham. Tutored in the ways of royalty by Willingham (Peter O'Toole), King Ralph has problems adapting. Finding himself a prisoner in Buckingham Palace, Ralph sneaks out to meet the lower-class salesgirl, Miranda (Camille Coduri), whom he's taken a fancy to after seeing her at a strip club. Meanwhile, Lord Percival Graves (John Hurt), who stands in line to be the next king if Ralph is discredited, seeks out Miranda and offers her money if she can maneuver Ralph into a compromising position.

At a royal ball for King Gustav (Julian Glover) of Finland, Ralph attempts to act like royalty to impress Princess Anna (Joely Richardson), whom Willingham and Prime Minister Hale (James Villiers) have chosen as Ralph's bride--over Ralph's objections. But Ralph, tired of the staid atmosphere, lapses into a spirited version of "Good Golly Miss Molly," which leaves the guests shocked. Graves, having obtained pictures of Ralph and Miranda kissing, has Ralph's butler, Gordon (Leslie Phillips), show the photos to King Gustav. Disgusted by the pictures and Ralph's gauche display, the royal family departs.

The next day Ralph is vilified in the media. Despondent, he goes to see Miranda, who reveals Graves's plot, but confesses she now loves him and has returned the money to Graves. Back at the palace, Willingham uncovers the plot against Ralph. Willingham informs Ralph, who also discovers that Willingham was actually the next in line for the throne, but he refused the opportunity, feeling that he was undeserving of the honor. The next day, Ralph addresses Parliament and exposes Graves and his mechinations. Ralph then announces his abdication and appoints Willingham the next king. Moving out of the palace, he finds Miranda and they embrace.

David S. Ward (CANNERY ROW, MAJOR LEAGUE) has fashioned an ultra-conservative fairy tale in which everyone has their place in life as long as they stick to their own class. O'Toole's Willingham is the consciousness of the piece and it is through his benevolent, yet patronizing, eyes that we view Ralph, a stereotypical American lowlife, and the jokes come from upper-class situations which Ralph finds himself hopelessly incompetent to master. To be king of England only compounds the sad state of affairs for this uncouth American. There is no attempt to satirize upper-class manners and customs and Ralph becomes a warning lesson for uppity lower-class pretenses.

By the end of the film, Ralph complies with this snobbery by relinquishing his throne to Willingham, who, through his largesse, knights Ralph, allowing him to cavort within the confines of his estate singing "Duke of Earl" with a jubilant backup group, leaving the thinking and decision-making to those folks who are "to the manor born." But even if Ward is serious in his premise, KING RALPH requires a fairy tale stylization to, if not make the film believable, make it easier to swallow. But the writing and direction is so pedestrian and perfunctory that the film seems merely ridiculous.

The saving grace of the film is John Goodman, who, in the context of the film, has a thoroughly crude, lunk-headed character to play. Ralph's innocence verges on idiocy--he has no conception of what a king is and has to have it explained to him, Willingham must provide him with English histories, and Ralph admits to Willingham that "I hardly knew where England was." This nightmare American could have easily come across as a reprehensible jerk, but instead Goodman provides a big-brotherly demeanor and amiable charm that fuels KING RALPH through most of its running time. Peter O'Toole, on the other hand, looks frail and drawn, with an expression of pained forbearance that gives Willingham the doomed air of a Charles I rather than a worthy successor to King Ralph. But John Hurt's smooth and slimy Lord Graves has the slippery tone of a true plotter to the throne and Hurt steals every scene he's in.

Ward is not savvy enough as a director to allow the performances of Goodman and Hurt to be anything more than acting exercises against the odds and the film plods on. The only moments of exuberance occur during John Goodman's rock 'n' roll numbers, hinting at what the film might have been if fashioned into an out-and-out muscial comedy. What we have instead is a curiously reactionary, albeit affable, time-killer, fueled by a few good performances, in which punkers, along with Thatcher Conservatives, cheer on the King of England, whoever he may be. leave a comment