The Draughtsman’s Contract – BFI

Director: Peter Greenaway
Screenplay: Peter Greenaway
Starring: Anthony Higgins, Janet Suzman, Anne-Louise Lambert, Hugh Fraser, Neil Cunningham, Dave Hill, David Gant
Country: UK
Running Time: 108 min
Year: 1982
BBFC Certificate: 15

Peter Greenaway had the desire to be an artist at an early age and, in his college days, he studied as a muralist. He also had a love of film though and soon branched out into making documentaries and experimental shorts throughout the mid-sixties and seventies. Though he continues to make short films now, in the early 80s he was talked into branching out into making a feature. The Draughtsman’s Contract was his second fictional feature film but I guess you could call it his first commercially viable one after the unusual 3-and-a-quarter-hour ‘mockumentary’ The Falls.

The film got him noticed on the arthouse and festival circuits and helped lead to an astonishing decade of well-received films, including A Zed & Two Noughts, The Belly of an Architect, Drowning by Numbers and The Cook, the Thief, His Wife & Her Lover.

With The Draughtsman’s Contract reaching the fine age of 40 years in 2022 (like myself), the BFI have decided to release the film on Blu-ray in a 2-disc set, loaded with extra features and a decent-sized booklet.

I’m ashamed to say that, prior to this, I’d only seen one of Greenaway’s films, The Belly of an Architect (which I reviewed here a long while ago). When I was younger I think I was put off by his reputation for making films very much in the Arthouse with a capital ‘A’ mould. However, I very much enjoyed Architect so I’ve been keen to delve deeper into the writer-director’s oeuvre but never got around to it. Being sent an offer to review the BFI’s new release gave me a good excuse though, so I snatched it up and my thoughts follow.

The Draughtsman’s Contract sees Anthony Higgins play Mr Neville, the draughtsman of the title. A draughtsman is a person who draws detailed drawings or plans. In this case, our protagonist draws pictures of houses and estates.

Neville, whilst attending a party, is asked by Mrs Virginia Herbert (Janet Suzman) to draw twelve pictures of her estate whilst her unloving husband is away on business.

Neville is currently working on another commission so isn’t initially interested but, through Mrs Herbert’s persistence, a contract is drawn out for a large sum of money and the added clause that the lady of the house must satisfy Neville’s sexual demands during his stay.

The arrogant Neville is amused and pleased with this arrangement and proceeds to draw the estate, demanding strict rules as to the timings and movements of those living and working there, so that he can capture the imagery of the house precisely and effectively. Away from his work, he proceeds to force Mrs Herbert into providing him with sexual favours, which he seems to enjoy more for humiliating the woman than for any other carnal gratification.

Over time, however, Neville starts to notice strange objects appearing in the scenes of his drawings. In his pig-headedness, he thinks little of it at first, but the audience soon realises that the artist might not be as in control of the situation as he’d like to believe. Indeed, he might be walking into a trap.

The Draughtsman’s Contract was inspired by Greenaway’s experiences as an art student, exploring the idea of whether an artist draws/paints what he sees or what he knows. There are also other autobiographical aspects, largely taken from a holiday where he spent a couple of weeks drawing a country house. Like Neville, he had to plan his timings of which part of the house he would draw at what time of day to avoid the changes in light from affecting his drawing of what he can see, rather than what he knew or felt.

Greenaway also wanted to explore the idea of the upper classes and their belief that their estates were the key signifier of their status. The film is specifically set in 1694, around which numerous changes in British power were happening, which is reflected in power struggles central to the film. In Britain, the Roman Catholic Stuarts were being replaced by a Protestant monarchy and the French-orientated court was making way for a Dutch and German one. Also, vital to the film’s narrative, 1694 saw a significant law, the first Married Woman’s Property Act, allowing women to inherit property legally and have some control over inheritance, their own children and property.

Thankfully though, The Draughtsman’s Contract is no dull, dry period drama, exploring the history of the era. Greenaway keeps things eminently watchable by injecting the film with a wicked sense of black humour. This is most notable in the sharp, often quite rude banter between the characters, as well as their morally bankrupt behaviour.

Some mystery is also added to the plot with the unusual items appearing in Neville’s views of the estate. This develops into a murder mystery as the film goes on, though it feels less a ‘whodunnit’ and more a case of ‘who will the blame be put on’.

Sex plays a big part in the film too, but it’s never titillating. The sexual acts are part of the contracts (another is struck later on with another lady of the house), with Neville taking some pleasure in humiliating the women but the women themselves merely allowing it to happen. Their willingness or requests to have this in their contracts also form part of the mystery that only becomes apparent in the final act. Once again a balance of power comes into play.

You can’t talk about a Peter Greenaway film without mentioning its visual style, of course. Coming from a background in art (indeed it’s his hands you see in the close-ups of the draughtsman drawing), the director has a painterly eye, having his cast and production design form careful compositions that always look beautiful. Scenes often play out in long tableaux, rather than cutting between shots, and movement is only used in key moments. On top of looking like something you’d hang on your wall, this approach mirrors the style of art of the period being portrayed.

The film sounds great too, with Greenaway’s regular collaborator Michael Nyman delivering one of his finest scores for the director. Fusing a modern, minimalist style with orchestration in tune with the period of the narrative, it fits the tone perfectly. The score is intensely rhythmic and formally constructed but with an enjoyable, almost jaunty air.

So, occasionally puzzling but always ravishing to behold and laced with biting humour, The Draughtsman’s Contract is an arthouse classic that’s as enjoyable as any mainstream counterpart.

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