Think of England

One would be forgiven for assuming that Think of England is a “no sex please, we’re British” bawdy romp about stiff upper lip (pun intended) prudery. But Richard Hawkins’s tale of purported government-sanctioned pornography during WWII is a riveting exploration of jingoism, misogyny and moralism, and all the interconnectedness therein.

Legend has it that, to boost the morale of British soldiers, Winston Churchill ordered the commission of a pornographic film about the marital lust with which troops would supposedly be met upon their return. A band of outsiders, each ostracised from polite society for disparate reasons, are enlisted to make it. Captain Clune (John McCrea), facing the prospect of prison following a sexual encounter with another man, is appointed producer. Aspiring actress Holly (Natalie Quarry), branded a “whore” for her dalliances with men, is cast as the female lead. Suffering from PTSD following a mysterious wartime incident, the disgraced Corporal Evans (Jack Bandeira) plays the heroic soldier returning home for satiation. The film is directed by Max Meyer (Ben Bela Böhm), a German Expressionist director reduced to making the X-rated flick in exchange for refuge in Hollywood.

The film explores how men with violent tendencies may have an inclination towards pornography, with Evans brutal towards Holly from the outset. There are parallels with contemporary adult content; though both Evans and Holly have been essentially conscripted to perform in the propaganda film, it’s inherently a more violating experience for Holly. Evans chokes her, a violent act which, today, has become normalised for men who consume pornography. When Holly worries how she can possibly “act” when she is having unsimulated sex, kindly on-set assistant Agnes (Ronni Ancona) reminds her that faking it is customary for so many women: “It’s us who are the natural born actors,” she says.

Such analogies are skilfully conveyed. With the propaganda film shot at the time of the Hays code, it explores the glorification of warfare as some jingoistic feat in contrast to the moral outrage over sex on screen. Other themes, such as Evans’s PTSD, are illustrated less subtly, which is a shame considering the script’s commitment to a more nuanced form of storytelling.

But it’s nevertheless wonderfully acted and insightfully written. Rather than thinking of England, the filmmakers ask us to question the moral ambiguities around duty and consent. Think of England is far from what one expects from its premise, and all the better for it.

Antonia Georgiou

Think of England is released nationwide on 6^th November 2026.

Watch the trailer for Think of England here: