Welcome back to VOLUME 20: Ken Russell’s History of the World. Today, Shelby Cooke views Tommy in the context of the celebrity cultures that both birthed and followed it.
During the Christmas celebrations of 1951, Nora (Ann-Margret), the mother of the “deaf, dumb and blind” Tommy, laments that he will never understand the reason behind the holiday. Because of his psychosomatic state, he doesn’t know what day it is, who Jesus was, or what praying is. “How can he be saved from the eternal grave?” she asks, before placing Tommy’s hand on a Nativity scene with the hope that he will channel the spirit of God. Instead, he pushes the pieces away, throwing baby Jesus and his family to the floor. Sixteen years later, the same mother — still trying to find salvation for her only child — takes her son to the Altar of Marilyn Monroe. Where God failed to heal him, maybe Marilyn has the power to bring sound to the deaf, words to the nonverbal, and eyesight to the blind. As they approach the altar to pray, Tommy knocks Marilyn from atop her shrine, breaking her into pieces. A few years later, it will be Tommy whom the people will come to worship and, eventually, who they will topple over.
Like much of his filmography, Ken Russell’s 1975 rock opera, Tommy, is steeped in religious symbolism. A cinematic retelling of The Who’s 1969 album of the same name, the film follows Tommy (played by Roger Daltrey as an adult) as he is thrust into stardom because of his supernatural skill for pinball. By shifting the setting of The Who’s original story forward from 1920s to 1970s Britain, Russell recontextualises Tommy’s narrative for the mid-20th century. The film comments on the cultural and religious landscape in which it was made, exploring how the development of society after the Second World War allowed for secular figureheads to obtain holy status amongst the masses.
After witnessing the accidental murder of his father at the hands of, Nora, and step-father, Frank (Oliver Reed), 5-year-old Tommy enters a prolonged dissociative state. Despite religion and science’s inability to cure him, in his early twenties, Tommy discovers that he has a proclivity for pinball, a game that relies on the senses he supposedly lacks. Not ones to miss a trick, Frank and Nora monetise their son’s supernatural gift, earning him wealth, notoriety, and a legion of devoted fans. When Tommy eventually recovers his faculties, having been pushed through a set of mirrors by his mother, this experience completes his journey to ostensible enlightenment, inspiring him to share his newfound wisdom with the world and, simultaneously, forming a quasi-religious cult.
Tommy’s ascent to sainthood begins on VE Day, a historic moment marked by the emancipation of Europe from fascism and the dawn of a new future under democracy. Following the war, British society shedded its stiff traditionalism and entered a new way of living, embracing a culture of liberation, free thought and countercultural revolutions. Following his election as Prime Minister in 1964, Harold Wilson and his Labour government supported a slew of progressive laws concerning censorship, women’s rights, homosexuality, and education. This liberal mindset was also reflected in the general public, as the swinging sixties brought forth a new wave of art, music, culture, and sexual and political freedom. At the same time, the strengthening of Anglo-American relations bled not just into British politics but also into this new post-war lifestyle. American culture began colonising British identity — Hollywood movies populated cinemas, New York-based art movements influenced underground scenes, and Chicago-based manufacturers entertained the youth with flashy new pinball machines. The American dream — a belief that wealth under capitalism is attainable for all regardless of where you come from — became part of the British psyche as the nation aligned with the economic mentality from across the pond, cultivating a faith in the power of finance. In Tommy, Russell toys with the idea of capitalism replacing the Church’s position in society, investigating how the desire for fame and fortune became a religious practice people sought out, making celebrities the new messiahs.
We are introduced to this concept during the aforementioned visit to Marilyn Monroe’s Altar, where disciples praise the defining image of Hollywood glamour. A starlet of 1950s Americana, Monroe makes the American Dream sexy, overcoming the odds of her humble birth to become one of the most famous faces in popular culture. In this fictitious church dedicated to Monroe’s image, Russell reflects on the average person’s obsession with celebrities, observing how her disciples believe that, by praying to this affluent icon, they will be able to share in her good fortune. The people of Monroe’s church build statues in her honour, wear her mask in an attempt to embody her and worship at her feet in the hope she will cure them of their alignments, poverty and troubles. At her altar, Marilyn Monroe is seen as a God; a deity of the new age capitalist mindset here to save them—but fame is only as glamorous as it is fleeting. As Tommy’s celebrity rises, we see how the masses treat him as they once did Marilyn, envisioning him as a pseudo-Christ figure who will lead his people to salvation through pinball.
Aside from his physical styling — long blonde curly hair, bare feet, and all-white attire — that is akin to Jesus’ popular Westernised image, Tommy is seen at various points replicating notable moments in Christ’s story. He walks on water and performs baptisms; his dinner with disciples parallels “The Last Supper”; he’s nailed to a cross with blood dripping down his body during a drug trip with The Acid Queen (Tina Turner). He employs Frank and Nora to gather converts by spreading the word of his talent, recovery, and enlightenment. His message reaches the most vulnerable in society — the working class, gang members, social outcasts, and the disabled — and captures their devotion just like Jesus and his apostles did. Although all these people come to Tommy’s house to show their belief in him, there’s an ambiguity to what exactly Tommy is preaching. It’s clear his religion revolves around the game he specialises in — the symbol of the community is a cross with a pinball on top, after all — but it seems questionable that a game, which was slowly declining in relevance by the 1970s, would elicit such a passionate following. Perhaps, the people who revere Tommy aren’t attracted to his message, but to the symbol he has become.
The trials Tommy faces as a young man — alongside the celebrity status he gains from his unbeatable game — give him the same allure as Marilyn: he rises above the challenges of his birth to become a wealthy champion beloved by his subjects. His followers project onto him their hopes and dreams, their desires for something different, something better, something more. Sally Simpson (Victoria Russell), in a bedroom wallpapered with Tommy’s face, lusts after this stand-in Jesus. The Mods and Teddy Boys dance in the streets to his music, engrossed by his zeitgeist-tapping songs. The factory workers and labourers are inspired by how he beat the class system. And the disabled who once attended Marilyn’s altar now look to him for healing. They accept the scripture of this self-made man because they crave what he has—but when he can’t deliver on this yearning, they turn on him.
Fed up with Tommy’s price gouging and the little they receive from him in return, the followers revolt, turning on their leader and demanding more. In an attempt to soothe the protesters, Tommy enthusiastically proclaims that if they just artificially blind, mute and deafen themselves, then they will become pinball masters just like him. But the mob doesn’t want that. They want to reach what he has — freedom, awareness, enlightenment, wealth — and they want it now. They proceed to kill Frank and Nora, burn the church down, smash their crosses, and march on to find their next saviour, leaving Tommy in the ruins of his own creation.
In the end, Tommy’s disciples abandon him because he isn’t the holy man they need in an era of moral decay. The people apostatise from Marilyn Monroe when she doesn’t fix them, and they do the same to Tommy when they realise he can’t save them either. He’s not a man of the people; instead, he’s ruled by individualism. His religion isn’t based on morals and values, it’s, instead, a consumerist business. He doesn’t die to absolve us of our sins; he lets others die for his. While Russell aligns him with Jesus, Tommy is ultimately shaped by the country that invented the game that forms his doctrine. His identity is a product of the American imperialism that filtered through his nation since the day of his birth. Russell’s film functions as a cautionary tale, reminding the viewer that the rich and powerful we look up to aren’t Saints; they’re human. They may look and act like Christ, use His words to draw you into their ideology, or even make you feel as if you’re having a Godly experience, but they’ll fundamentally never be truly holy. A sentiment to remember as we pilgrimage around the world for the Eras Tour, defend a billionaire on social media, or join a divisive politician’s homegrown militia.