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6.1/10
Senior Film Conservator
A definitive 6.1/10 rating for a film that redefined the boundaries of cult cinema. Our Betters remains a cornerstone of transgressive art.
If you like watching rich people be absolutely awful to each other in big hats, you’ll probably find something to enjoy here. If you’re looking for a sharp, biting comedy that actually hits its marks, you might want to skip this one. It feels a bit like watching a play where everyone forgot to turn the energy up past a low hum.
Constance Bennett is doing a lot of heavy lifting here. She has this way of looking at people like they’re a stain on her rug, which is perfect for the role, but the movie keeps getting in her way.
The pacing is… well, it’s a slog. Sometimes a scene will linger for an extra ten seconds after the dialogue stops, and you’re just watching people stare at each other. It’s not deep. It’s just awkward.
There’s this weird, empty feeling to the party scenes. Like they didn't have enough extras to make the room look actually populated. It feels less like a high-society event and more like a small group of people trapped in a parlor.
I couldn't help but think about how much more fun this would be if it leaned into the absurdity. Instead, it plays everything so straight that you start wondering if the characters realize how ridiculous they sound. Maybe they don't?
I found myself comparing it to other period pieces I've seen recently, like The Heart of Jennifer. That one had a pulse. This one feels like it’s being held together by tape and good intentions.
It’s not a disaster, but it’s not exactly a hidden gem either. It’s just there. It’s a movie you’d watch on a rainy Tuesday when you’ve run out of things to do and you just want to see people in fancy clothes being vaguely cruel.
The ending felt like it just ran out of steam. Like the director just said, 'Okay, that's enough,' and called it a day. Can't really blame them, honestly.