Cinema Catala Hollywood Movie Review

Posts Tagged ‘determination’

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.

The marketing campaign for The Blind Side plays up the inspirational aspects of the story – that it’s based on the real-life rags-to-riches tale of football player Michael Oher and the woman whose fierce love and determination to help him allowed him to see the Promised Land. There’s no doubt this is a crowd-pleaser, as occasional bursts of applause attested during the screening I attended. The film skillfully plays on an audience’s emotions, but that’s what this sort of movie does, and director John Lee Hancock shows a sure hand when it comes to careful manipulation. He rarely goes too far and he knows enough to leaven the heavy emotional aspects with bursts of comedy and the occasional telling point about what causes us to value individuals in this society.

Michael Oher (Quinton Aaron) was selected in the first round of the 2009 NFL draft by the Baltimore Ravens. This is a sanitized (some might argue “Hollywood-ized”) version of events that brought him to that point. When the film begins, he’s a lost teenager who has been accepted to a private religious school because of his untapped potential as a football player. The coach (Ray McKinnon) salivates when he considers Michael’s size and strength on his offensive line – he’s a bear of a man – but Michael’s academic performance is so poor that he is ineligible to play. He has no home – the State took him away from his crack-addicted mother when he was a child and he mostly looks for warm places to spend the night. He is wandering the streets in the cold and the rain when Leigh Anne Touhy (Sandra Bullock) spots him. She and her husband, Sean (Tim McGraw), recognize him since their son, S.J. (Jae Head), and daughter, Collins (Lily Collins), go to his school. Impulsively, Leigh Anne invites Michael to spend the night on her couch, and that one night becomes the first of many. Michael becomes a part of the Touhy family, his performance at school improves, and he is finally able to show what he can do on a football field.

To be sure, there are some stock elements in the story, such as a scene in which Michael returns to the projects and confronts some of the gangsters who knew him as a child. But what’s impressive about The Blind Side is how many of the familiar clichés are not to be found in the movie. No villain is invented to generate unnecessary conflict. There is no weepy reunion between Michael and his birth mother. There are no tortured scenes of drawn-out family bonding. The Blind Side isn’t exactly subtle but neither is it cloying. Hancock, who also directed another inspirational sports drama, The Rookie, gets the tone just about right. And, while things are softened considerably for the PG-13 rating, there are hints of darker elements that don’t quite make it to the screen.

In a way, this is Precious for a family-friendly audience. Lee Daniels’ movie is more gritty and gripping, but the core message is the same about an individual with profound disadvantages overcoming his or her disabilities and finding success in life. Both are fairy tales of a sort, and it hardly matters that one has its roots in fact and the other is based on a work of fiction. Some will doubtlessly dismiss The Blind Side as another example of a heroic white person saving a black victim but, although there is an element of truth in that perfunctory description, it misses the point. This is more about simple human decency and economic disadvantage than it is about racial inequality (although it would be disingenuous to ignore a link). Leigh Anne helps Michael not because of the color of his skin or his potential as an athlete – she does it because she sees another human being suffering and reaches out to him. Others, like Coach Cotton, have ulterior motives for extending themselves.

Although the central character in the real life drama is Michael, that’s not necessarily the case with the movie, in which the script strikes a balance between Michael and Leigh Anne. But where relative newcomer Quinton Aaron operates a little under the radar, Sandra Bullock is anything but low-key. She is very good in this juicy role – the right mix of tough love and occasional vulnerability. There’s some of the Julia Roberts vibe from Erin Brockovich here and it would be foolish to assume the actress was unaware of the Oscar potential inherent in the part when she accepted it. Still, Bullock pulls it off and it seems possible a nomination could be in her future. She is ably supported: Tim McGraw is likeable as the supportive husband who’s along for the ride; Lily Collins shows spunk as the little sister who defies peer pressure to embrace her new brother; and Jae Head provides most of the comedic relief. Aaron, meanwhile, has the physique to play Michael and his acting is solid enough for him to be able to pull off the role of the gentle giant, but he spends a fair amount of time in Bullock’s shadow. A number of college coaches have cameos; Nick Saban is probably given too much screen time. He’s a truly awful actor, as becomes evident as soon as he begins reciting dialogue.

The trailer makes The Blind Side out to be more mawkish than it is. Although there is some softening of the edges and amplification of the positives, the film doesn’t take it to extremes or play the audience for fools. The script is generally pretty smart – it begins with a fabulous voiceover detailing how Joe Theismann’s 1985 injury resulted in Michael having a shot at eventual stardom – and the characters are nicely developed. It’s easy for an inspirational movie to try too hard to get viewers to cheer. This one achieves the goal by allowing the good feelings to emerge organically rather than by artificial means. In a head-to-head comparison, one would be hard-pressed not to declare that Precious is the better film – it makes fewer compromises and doesn’t shy from showing the true ugliness only hinted at in this movie, but The Blind Side is more accessible. It’s easier to digest. In the end, both films tell stories of triumph over adversity – a category of drama that uplifts while offering a dollop of social commentary.