Cinema Catala Hollywood Movie Review

Posts Tagged ‘Bob’

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.

A Christmas Carol
If I ever wanted to know what A Christmas Carol might look like as a high-end video game, I need search no farther than this motion picture, which takes the Dickens classic and converts it into something that looks and feels like it belongs on a PS3. I suspect devotees of the original story are going to be split over this movie. On the one hand, some of the visuals are amazing and it remains largely faithful to the source text. On the other hand, there’s just enough inappropriate humor, out-of-place action, and animation showiness to give one pause. There’s little doubt that the visual razzle-dazzle usurps the emotional element – you can feel immersed in the world, but remain distanced from the characters. Still, the motion capture animation is top-notch and it’s hard not to be impressed with what Robert Zemeckis has wrought, even if there’s the occasional sense he’s pandering to an audience that can’t get through a 90 minute story without a few yuks and a chase sequence.

When it comes to Christmas stories, none is more ubiquitous than A Christmas Carol, which has been adapted in just about every imaginable permutation. The two most beloved are arguably the 1951 version starring Alistair Sim and the 1984 made-for-TV one with George C. Scott. According to IMDb, the first time A Christmas Carol reached the screen was in 1901. Since then, there have been countless “straight” editions, a musical with Albert Finney (1970’s Scrooge), a parody with Bill Murray (1988’s Scrooged), and even a loose romantic comedy adaptation earlier this year (Ghosts of Girlfriends Past). Patrick Stewart has done a fabulous one-man stage show. The Muppets have gotten into the act, as have Mickey Mouse, Mister Magoo, and The Flintstones. And dozens of TV shows have used A Christmas Carol as the skeleton for a seasonal episode. So, although Robert Zemeckis’ use of motion capture may be the first to apply this technique to Scrooge and company, he has entered a very, very crowded field.

For anyone who improbably doesn’t know the story, here it is in a nutshell: Money lender Ebenezer Scrooge (Jim Carrey) is the most miserly of skinflints – he complains about giving his clerk, Bob Cratchit (Gary Oldman), a paid day off for Christmas. When it comes to celebrating the holiday, his one-word refrain, spoken to his nephew, Fred (Colin Firth), say it all: Humbug! One Christmas Eve, however, he receives four supernatural visitors whose goal is to affect a fundamental change in Scrooge. The first ghost is that of his old business partner, Jacob Marley (Oldman), now seven years dead. He arrives weighed down by the chains forged through long years of coldness and avarice. Next to arrive is the Ghost of Christmas Past (Carrey), who takes Scrooge on a tour of the Christmases of his youth. The Ghost of Christmas Present (Carrey) allows Scrooge to glimpse how Fred and Bob Cratchit are spending their day tomorrow. And The Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come, a voiceless specter, points a finger at a lonely tombstone in a bleak cemetery.

This is Zemeckis’ third motion capture animated film, and it tops what he has previously achieved with Polar Express and Beowulf. It’s available in 3-D, but even in 2-D, it’s easy to see that a lot of stuff is rushing by and being tossed at the audience. The figures in A Christmas Carol look almost real – pretty much on par with those I saw last weekend in a new PS3 game, Uncharted 2, which once again reminds me of the narrowing gap between high-end video games and animated movies. The voice work is uniformly excellent, with Jim Carrey and Gary Oldman essaying a variety of roles, and Bob Hoskins, Robin Wright Penn, Colin Firth, and Cary Elwes lending not only their vocal stylings to their parts but their physical likenesses as well. The design of Victorian London is masterful. During the opening credits, I felt like I was undergoing an aerial tour of the long-ago city. Of all the great A Christmas Carols, this one may be the most visually stunning.

The production lacks a certain heart, however. It hits all the notes but, despite playing them with technical proficiency, there’s a lack of emotion. I didn’t care about Scrooge’s transformation in this version the way I have in some of the others. Perhaps it’s because things are a little rushed. Or perhaps because there are some weird interludes, like the sequence when a miniature Scrooge, sounding like Alvin the Chipmunk, is involved in an action chase. I found myself groping for my PS3 controller until I remembered that this was a movie, not a video game. Maybe this sort of thing is necessary to keep younger children from becoming restless during what is essentially a character-based story. Then again, there are enough disturbing images that it’s questionable whether any child under 10 should be taken to see A Christmas Carol in the first place. This is as “hard” as a PG rating can get.

Alan Silvestri’s music merits a mention; it’s possibly the most “Christmasy” score I can remember, incorporating cues from about a dozen popular Christmas carols (in particular, “Hark the Herald Angels Sing”, “Joy to the World”, and “God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen”) with his own seasonally appropriate compositions. None of the tunes are anachronistic, so they fit with the setting and represent an effective complement to the film’s impeccable visuals.

In the ever-expanding pantheon of adaptations of Dickens’ beloved story, Zemeckis’ A Christmas Carol is the most technically adept and probably the most sumptuous, but it’s not the most engrossing or endearing. It replaces charm and depth with spectacle and bling. It’s far from essential but it’s also not unwelcome, especially at this time of the year when an accomplished version of A Christmas Carol is preferable a half-baked new holiday story. There’s something to be said for the power of a classic, even if it has been given an imperfect makeover.