I managed to avoid this at age sixteen when it played the art houses here in Chicago. I've since delayed seeing it due to my intense dislike of actor Richard E. Grant, to call him "hammy" would be an understatement. Since its release, it has become sort of a British Big Lebowski, with a rabid cult following (another reason not to see it). Imagine my shock and pleasure when I finally sat down to watch it and really enjoyed the damn thing.
It stars Grant (Withnail) and Paul McGann (I) as English out of work actors, years after graduating drama school, living in extreme poverty and battling bitterness. They are more likely to spend their last pounds on whiskey and a pack of smokes than food. When hunger, disillusionment, and booze start to take a serious toll on their sanity, they opt to get out of London for a weekend in the countryside, courtesy of Withnail's swishy, well-to-do Uncle Monty (Richard Griffiths, who with this movie and The History Boys, is British film's definitive elderly pervert).
The comedy is broad, but spot-on (either Grant was perfect casting as a puffed-up, prancing actor, or he became Withnail and has been ever since). This is also about the dreaded realization that you may not have talent, and the film is permeated with dashed dreams and lost ambition. Writer/director Bruce Robinson manages what the Coen brothers often attempt but rarely achieve: A film that is at once wildly funny and terribly serious, with an absurd tone that isn't at the expense of humanity or character. Unlike Lebowski, this deserves its cult.
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