The first thing we learn about Flora Poste, the lively heroine of Schlesinger's Cold Comfort Farm, is her refusal to mourn. The death of her parents causes her little grief, she says when she returns from the funeral in London, because she barely knew them. Flora's no-nonsense approach to life sets the stage for the dispatch with which she will later transform the archaic family unit at the farm of her relatives. Thus, before she even arrives at Cold Comfort Farm, the audience has been given notice that no tears will be shed, at least on Flora's part, over any sacrifices that may be made to bring about the transformation of her ancestral home.

Cold Comfort Farm is a beautiful instance of classic comedy. It proves the endurance of a plot structure that originated in Greek comedy and has survived up through Shakespeare, Jane Austen and Oscar Wilde, to Stella Gibbons's novel and Schlesinger's adaptation of it. The list of adherents to this tradition in English literature and film is long, and Schlesinger's film stands out as a nearly perfect expression of it. What makes Cold Comfort Farm so original is the succinctness with which it celebrates what it demolishes— namely, the archaic past— and the sly wit with which it acknowledges how vestiges of the past nonetheless live on in the modern world.

The action of this sort of comedy involves the transition from a society ruled over by a tyrant, who is usually a parent, or held in check by a cruel and irrational law, to a congenial society centered in a younger generation. Stock characters abound— imposters, buffoons, pedants, braggarts and so on— who may be part of either the old or the new society and who are commonly included in the new social order, even if they had tried to block it all along. Everyone is liberated at the end of classic comedy. A festive ritual or celebration announces the establishment of the new “green world,” as Northrop Frye famously phrased it. “[S] omething gets born at the end of comedy,” Frye wrote, pointing to comedy's roots in nature and the spring ritual of Dionysus that is commonly identified as the origin of comic and tragic theater in the ancient world (Frye 1957, 170).

Americans have become so accustomed to hearing politicians and television commentators end statements with the phrase “God bless America” that we tend to forget that its use in popular discourse is a fairly recent development. Ronald Reagan was the first to utter it in a presidential nomination speech and, in 1984, he became the first president to close a State of the Union address with these words. Democrats adopted the phrase in 1992, when nominee Bill Clinton used it in his address before the Democratic Convention, and thereafter, for most of his State of the Union addresses (Scher 2015). Thus in the eighties, the political rhetoric of this country sounded a new note of calculated piety that is still with us. The religious right helped to elect Reagan, who won by carrying 44 states with 489 electoral votes, and who went on to ally himself with religious fundamentalists like Jerry Falwell throughout his presidency. It was Falwell who, some years later, launched the humorless attack on Teletubbies, the popular TV show aimed at preschool children, on the grounds that the purple character Tinky Winky was intended as a gay role model.

Schlesinger's raucous farce, Honky Tonk Freeway, released seven months after President Reagan took office in January of 1981, was inimical to the spirit of these times. When the final print of the film was screened for executives at Universal Studios, the film's editor Jim Clark describes a scene in which the executives watched in stony silence, then stood up and “ ‘began screaming at [Schlesinger]. […] saying things like ‘This is anti-American, anti-religious. How could you have made such a thing?” (Mann 2005, 479). The film went on to garner indignant reviews like that of Janet Maslin, who, despite the fact that the film had amused her, announced in the New York Times that “John Schlesinger […] thinks America is a crass, foolish, disagreeable place” (Maslin 1981). It's true that the America of Honky Tonk Freeway is, among other things, crass, foolish and disagreeable but no more so than the America featured in other comedies of the period, like Animal House (1978), Airplane! (1980), Caddyshack (1980) and Porky's (1981), all of which received more favorable reviews, and none of which offer the arch critique of America of Honky Tonk Freeway.

Between 1979 and 1991, in what are sometimes referred to as the Reagan-Thatcher years, Schlesinger directed four films that delve deeply into questions of national identity: Yanks (1979), The Falcon and the Snowman (1985), both of which were Hollywood productions, and two highly acclaimed short films made for British television, An Englishman Abroad (1983) and A Question of Attribution (1991). Each of these films is based on historical fact, reminding us that Schlesinger learned his craft in the late fifties making documentary films for the BBC. Yanks is set during the Second World War in a town in Northern England where American soldiers are stationed; it depicts the relationships that develop between the soldiers and the local population. The Falcon and the Snowman concerns two American men, Christopher Boyce and Daulton Lee, who sell US security secrets to the Soviet Union in the mid-seventies; and the two BBC films, both of which are based on plays by Alan Bennett, are about members of the notorious spy ring known as the Cambridge Five. An Englishman Abroad concerns Guy Burgess, who defected to the Soviet Union in the early fifties, and A Question of Attribution is about the art historian Anthony Blunt, whose espionage during the Cold War became known to the public in 1979.

In Conversations with John Schlesinger, Buruma makes it clear that the director was deeply interested in the subject of all four of these films. The characters and plots may have come from material written by others, but his selection of them was driven by personal interest, and his transformations of them into films were undertaken within a particular set of moral questions that were uniquely his own. Schlesinger's ambivalence toward ideas of national identity and allegiance is strongly felt in the last three of the films, but Yanks, in which sentiment plays a more obvious role than in the others, is essential to understanding their political perspective.

The strong eschatological vein portrayed in Jesus’ teaching raises questions concerning the nature and degree of instability being experienced by the inhabitants of Galilee and Judea. This chapter evaluates the documentary evidence for discontent at the time of Jesus, against a backdrop of foreign invasions and conquests over five hundred years. There is substantial evidence that there was discontent among the people: the cumulative evidence from Josephus, the Dead Sea Scrolls, certain apocalypses, and the Evangelists, especially the literarily distinct Gospels of Mark and John, supports this. After the Feeding of the Five Thousand clearly a large crowd wanted Jesus as their leader, even their king, and tried to coerce him into this, but he was not interested. His focus was on God and the implementation of his kingdom through discipleship. As an apocalyptical and eschatological prophet Jesus believed that God’s rule was in the process of happening, and he is remembered as warning about judgement to come for the unrepentant. His ministry centred on the welfare of the poor, and their inclusion in the coming kingdom.

This chapter explores socio-economic versus halachic explanations for the distribution of ethnic indicators between Judea and Galilee. Fewer miqwa’ot and scant ossuaries have been found in Galilee. Regarding ossuaries, the trickle-down effect from the Judean elite, who had adopted this Roman mode of burial, to the Galilean elite, would have taken time and resulted in smaller and more modest adjustments; this could partially account for any ossuary disparity between Galilee and Judea pre-70 CE. But, more importantly, the difficulties in distinguishing between first-century and second-century Galilean tombs have hampered firm conclusions being made. The miqwa’ot data demonstrate a difference in the interpretation of the Halacha (religious rules), that reflects a diverse Judaism firmly underpinned by a common Judaism identified through a number of archaeological artefacts, such as the Herodian or knife-pared oil lamp common in both Galilee and Judea. The widespread presence of pig bones on Jewish sites, albeit in low numbers, also demonstrates a diverse Judaism. Stone vessels were discovered on all types of site across Judea and Galilee and, with the exception of large jars clearly produced for the wealthy, were used by all classes. This stone vessel revolution has been interpreted as establishing Jewish identity and self-sufficiency.

The purpose of this chapter is to utilise a more wide-ranging assessment of textual material, incorporating an approach from oral testimony, in order to understand the Evangelists’ understanding of Jesus’ attitude towards the Temple and its administration. The Gospels of Mark and John attest to the authenticity of the Temple incident, and also confirm that Jesus did speak openly about the destruction of the Temple. They also tally with reference to their Old Testament citations in that Jesus appears to be accusing the Temple authorities of corrupt behaviour. These New Testament texts have originated from oral versions that would have been in circulation much earlier than the written material, and therefore are strongly reminiscent of the words of Jesus. Jesus saw the Temple as a money-spinning enterprise operating at the expense of the poor, the intense commercialization obliterating any sense of a ‘house of prayer’. He viewed the rich landowners of the priesthood as a major cause of misery for the poor. Indeed his brother James carried on his ministry to the impoverished, and was remembered as vehemently denouncing the avarice and venality of the rich.

Jesus came to the fore in Galilee at a time when there was considerable need for a leader that would act on behalf of the oppressed. This and his proclamation of the imminent arrival of a new era, a kingdom ruled by God, marked a critical juncture in late Second Temple Judaism.

This chapter examines to what extent the personality and teaching of Jesus influenced his disciples to continue his cause post Easter. Jesus was a man of compassion and authority. In contrast to the prophet John, he was a healer, and a highly successful one. His championing of the ‘love command’, the second commandment, was a legacy inherited by the early church as evidenced by both Paul and James’ teaching. He is remembered for ministering to the marginalized, the less favoured in Judean society, which included the physically and mentally infirm, and the poor, and sat down at table with them. Jesus’ prayer life underpinned his mission. He encouraged his disciples to pray to God as their Father, just as he did, and with absolute trust. The Gospel portrayal of Jesus’ inner life is reinforced by the fact that both Acts and the canonical Epistle of James bear witness to his emphasis on prayer. Moreover, James demonstrates the reality, importance, and individuality of Jesus’ wisdom teaching, something to be treasured and emulated. Vitally, this teaching on wisdom and especially prayer primed the disciples for the resurrection appearances, and sustained them in the establishment of the early church.

Although the archaeological evidence indicates a prosperous and thriving Galilee in the early first century ce, the Gospel texts suggest a society under stress and one where the rich were flourishing at the expense of the poor. This motivated me to examine the texts in more detail against the wider background of late Second Temple Judaic literature, and also to undertake an in-depth appraisal of the archaeology, including Jerusalem and environs, in order to determine the nature and severity of any stressors.

In order to pinpoint the centralization of wealth and power in Palestine, this chapter compares and contrasts levels of wealth across Galilee and Judea. There is no longer a clear demarcation between urban and rural settlements in first-century Galilee. Some villages demonstrate urban characteristics reflected by a variety of building styles and house decoration, and this is indicative of a distinct socio-economic hierarchy, with the emergence of an elite espousing Graeco-Roman tastes. In addition to arable and pastoral farming, various industries flourished, some on an industrial scale. The infrastructures of both Sepphoris and Tiberias had scarcely been developed by the early first century, with the houses of the rich at Sepphoris dating to the second century. Taking Magdala aside, which Jesus appeared to avoid as with other Galilean cities, the level of wealth identified in Galilee is far surpassed by that uncovered in Jerusalem, in particular the lavish mansions of the priestly aristocracy in the Upper City. The Upper City priestly quarter and its relationship to the nearby Temple embodies the centralization of wealth and power that Jesus opposed in first-century Palestine.

The strong eschatological vein portrayed in Jesus’ teaching raises questions concerning the nature and degree of instability being experienced by the inhabitants of Galilee and Judea. This chapter evaluates the documentary evidence for discontent at the time of Jesus, against a backdrop of foreign invasions and conquests over five hundred years. There is substantial evidence that there was discontent among the people: the cumulative evidence from Josephus, the Dead Sea Scrolls, certain apocalypses, and the Evangelists, especially the literarily distinct Gospels of Mark and John, supports this. After the Feeding of the Five Thousand clearly a large crowd wanted Jesus as their leader, even their king, and tried to coerce him into this, but he was not interested. His focus was on God and the implementation of his kingdom through discipleship. As an apocalyptical and eschatological prophet Jesus believed that God’s rule was in the process of happening, and he is remembered as warning about judgement to come for the unrepentant. His ministry centred on the welfare of the poor, and their inclusion in the coming kingdom.

Using archaeological and textual evidence, this chapter discusses the nature and prevalence of infectious disease in early Palestine. An analysis of the human bones from Palestinian tombs, in particular the ones relating to the urban sites of Jerusalem and Jericho, demonstrates a high level of subadult deaths especially of infants. Those socially and economically advantaged were equally at risk with those less well off when faced with an aggressive and persistent pathogen, as evidenced by the Akeldama tombs containing the remains of the wealthy. In one tomb, poor maternal health is suggested by the long-bone measurements of new-born infants, which are well below the norm for the period. And in another tomb (Tomb of the Shroud) both leprosy and tuberculosis were identified in a high-class man, possible a priest. Yet another Akeldama tomb revealed the remains of a man severely infected by the hydated tapeworm Echinococcus granulosus. Malaria is described by Josephus with reference to a Hasmonean king in the first century BCE, but there is no evidence that it was a serious problem in the first century, and certainly there is no evidence for the deadly falciparum form.