Cinema Catala Hollywood Movie Review

Posts Tagged ‘bait’

Despite arriving on North American screens mid-way through the month of November with a cast that features three previous Academy Award nominees (Philip Seymour Hoffman, Kenneth Branagh, Emma Thompson) and a similarly honored writer/director (Richard Curtis), Pirate Radio is not being touted as Oscar bait. In fact, it comes to the U.S. with a less-than-stellar pedigree, having received lukewarm reviews during its U.K. theatrical run earlier this year and having subsequently been re-cut at Focus Features’ request. The result, although uneven, is generally enjoyable, especially for those who attend with the right mindset. Character and narrative are secondary concerns for a movie primarily driven to provide a Valentine to ’60s rock-and-roll.

It’s 1966 and the young people of Great Britain are less-than-happy with the domestic radio situation, which is almost all talk and news (with a little jazz thrown in for good measure). Into this breach come the offshore pirate radio stations, the most infamous of which is “Radio Rock,” a 24/7 rock-and-roll operation that saturates the airwaves from a ship anchored in international waters and boasts a listening audience north of 20 million. Radio Rock is the brainchild of Quentin (Bill Nighy) and features some of the best known disc jockeys, including an American known only as The Count (Philip Seymour Hoffman); the world-renowned Gavin (Rhys Ifans); Bob (Ralph Brown), the 3-6 a.m. guy whom almost no one has seen; and Simon (Chris O’Dowd), who’s convinced no one likes him. Into this setting comes Carl (Tom Sturridge). After being kicked out of school, Carl’s mom (Emma Thompson) sends him to spend some time on the Radio Rock ship under the watchful eye of his godfather, Quentin. Life aboard the ship is all sex, drugs, and rock-and-roll (although the sex only arrives once every two weeks when a boatload of women arrive for overnight stays). Carl, a virgin, is at something of a disadvantage when it comes to the opposite sex, but various members of the crew set out to help him remedy the situation. Meanwhile, on land, cabinet member Sir Alistair Dormandy (Kenneth Branagh), announces his determination to shut down Radio Rock. Since what they’re doing is breaking no current laws, he hires the unfortunately named Twatt (Jack Davenport) to find a loophole that he can turn into a noose.

For the most part, Pirate Radio, called The Boat that Rocked during its U.K. run, is a series of poorly connected vignettes about life aboard the ship during a time when the social views of the government were at odds with those of its younger citizens. As Dormandy and Twatt seek to stifle Radio Rock, we are shown a cross-section of British people enjoying the music in different settings. Some of the episodes work (such as the visit to the ship by Carl’s mother); others exhibit forced comedy that really isn’t funny (Carl’s attempts to lose his virginity, the “duel” between The Count and Gavin). The characters are mostly likable but none exhibits much depth. The best comedic elements derive from Kenneth Branagh’s satirization of ’60s stuffed shirt politicians. At times, it’s as if he’s channeling John Cleese in the way he sends them up. He also has some great lines about the role of government.

Ultimately, however, Pirate Radio is more about the music than it is about anything else. Hardly a scene goes by without at least one classic rock song being played. There are reportedly about 60 clips (ranging from a few bars to full singles) in the movie, which makes it a pretty comprehensive survey of the music of the era, with artists ranging as far and wide as Dusty Springfield, Herb Alpert, Cream, The Who, Cat Stevens, The Beach Boys, and The Moody Blues. Without such a rich and diverse soundtrack, there’s little doubt that Pirate Radio would have been considerably less endearing and enjoyable. Of the features on Richard Curtis’ resume (he wrote Four Weddings and a Funeral and Bridget Jones’ Diary and wrote and directed Love, Actually), this is arguably the least substantive.

Some of the marketing material is hyping the “based on a true story” aspect of the movie although, in fact, this was always intended to tell the tale of a fictional pirate radio boat. Some aspects are loosely based on historical events and some of the characters are composites of real people, but Pirate Radio should not be mistaken for anything other than a creation of a writer’s imagination. The distributors apparently would like us to believe these people actually existed and Radio Rock occupies an almost mythical position in recent British pop history.

Films with large ensemble casts rarely afford opportunities for individual standout performances, and this is no exception. Bill Nighy is amusing but hardly reaches the heights he scaled for his small role in Love, Actually. Philip Seymour Hoffman is very good in what may be his most limited non-cameo since Twister. Tom Sturridge, who is the closest Pirate Radio has to a lead, is a little on the limp side. Those who appreciate trivia will note that this is the first movie in which both Kenneth Branagh and Emma Thompson have both appeared since the dissolution of their marriage (although they do not share any scenes).

Two obvious cinematic references came to mind while I was watching Pirate Radio. The first, Pump up the Volume, also deals with issues of censorship and free speech over the public airwaves and, as is the case here, it sets up a radio pirate as the champion of a group of individuals whose voices and opinions are often ignored by those in power. The second and more unfortunate reference is Titanic. The scenes with a boat sinking in the North Sea are simply too familiar for the association not to be made.

One of the biggest complaints about the U.K. release of the film was that it’s too long and, even though the American version is shorter by 15 minutes, it still seems like there’s too little content for such a robust running time. Nevertheless, the music is great, the comedy provides occasional laughs, and there’s nothing fundamentally wrong with the movie. Distilled to its essence, it represents a respectable diversion.

With the election of Barack Obama, we have apparently entered a kinder, gentler world in which films about racial harmony and goodwill to all men are becoming commonplace (at least during awards season). How else to explain the presence of both The Blind Side and Invictus within the first year of Obama’s term? Both are transparent Oscar bait – they are inspirational and earnest, but each preaches a little too loudly. That’s one of two problems with Invictus: it makes its point early about the power of sports as a force of unification then beats us over the head by repeating that idea ad nauseam. The second issue is that the movie is poorly edited; the inclusion of too much extraneous material adds about 20 minutes to the length and results in parts of the story feeling unfocused. Still, the overall experience is uplifting and enjoyable. History has pre-determined the outcome but, flaws aside, Eastwood has crafted something that works both as a sports drama and as an examination of the birth pains of the racially unified South Africa.

Invictus (the title is Latin for “unconquered”) opens with the 1994 ascension of Nelson Mandela (Morgan Freeman) to the presidency of South Africa. With apartheid officially ended, Mandela must work to achieve harmony through unification. Some of his methods are unconventional, such as pushing for the South African rugby team, the Springboks, to win the 1995 World Cup, which is being hosted in South Africa. Led by tough-as-nails player Francois Pienaar (Matt Damon), the team competes far better than expected and the players learn not only tolerance but how to become heroes and role models for both white and black South Africans.

The film comes complete with heavy doses of the behind-the-scenes machinations of politics. For example, there is a strong push within South Africa to disband the Springboks and ban their gold-and-green colors. Beloved primarily by Afrikaners (they have only one black player), the team symbolizes to some a residue of apartheid. Mandela, however, argues that eliminating the Springboks would antagonize and further alienate the white population – something he does not want to do. Instead, he campaigns for the team to be embraced not only by its core fans but by blacks as well. As a result, their participation in the World Cup becomes a source of national pride, irrespective of skin color.

Invictus incorporates tangential subplots that accomplish little beyond inflating the running time. One involves the integration of the President’s security forces. Aside from mirroring the country’s turmoil, this offers little that’s new or interesting, especially since there’s no payoff. The way these scenes are presented, we are misdirected into believing there will be an attempt on Mandela’s life. When that doesn’t happen, we’re left wondering why so much time is spent on these secondary characters. An associated problem is that there’s some unease in the marriage between the account of Mandela’s first year in office and the traditional sports story. There are connections but they are clumsily introduced. At times, Invictus seems like two movies compressed into one. The only reasonably developed character is Mandela. The only reason we know who Francois Pienaar is, is because he’s played by Matt Damon. His character traits are: plays rugby, is respected by his fellows, comes to believe in Mandela, and has an attractive wife. And he’s among the most fully fleshed out of the players. So, instead of spending time to enhance individuals like Pienaar, the screenplay funnels time and energy to examples of how the black and white members of the President’s bodyguard team come to trust each other.

There’s no debating that the message of Invictus is worthy, but there are times when its repetition elevates it to a level that’s almost sanctimonious. Eastwood goes overboard in depicting the unifying power of sports. The most cloying example is a little black boy who hangs around a taxi to hear the broadcast of the game on the car radio. At first, the white driver tries to shoo him away. By the end of the game, they are celebrating together. The point has been adequately made without this additional, pointless display of theatrics.

If these criticisms seem a bit harsh, it’s because the movie had the potential to be one of the truly great inspirational sports movies. Although its flaws keep it from achieving that level, it’s still a strong piece of mass market filmmaking. The message is undeniably positive, there are enough details about the difficulties faced by Mandela to recall how divisive a time it was in South Africa, and everything builds to the kind of rousing climax that a sports movie demands. Invictus is engaging enough that it’s easy to forgive, if not overlook, its problems. Like The Blind Side, it offers a more hopeful view of humanity than something like 2012. Frank Capra would be pleased.