Cinema Catala Hollywood Movie Review

Posts Tagged ‘Emma Thompson’

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.

An Education
What happens when you combine a star-making turn by a young actress with a supporting cast of an unimpeachable pedigree and a screenplay by Nick Hornby (High Fidelity, About a Boy)? The result, shepherded to the screen by Danish-born filmmaker Lone Scherfig, is An Education, one of 2009’s finest motion pictures – an open and honest look at sexual politics and a woman’s place in the world during the early1960s. Impeccably staged and acted, An Education culls the most from a solid script (based on the memoir of Lynn Barber), providing viewers with a rich, satisfying experience.

As Jenny, Carey Mulligan gives the kind of performance that will have viewers searching IMDb.com in search of other things they can see her in. In fact, her resume is more substantial than that of many 22-year olds, but most of her roles were on British television (her most internationally visible parts being as Ada Clare in the BBC-TV adaptation of Bleak House and as Sally Sparrow in the Doctor Who episode “Blink”). Mulligan’s acting in An Education is eye opening; it’s no stretch to say that she’s one of the reasons this film is so good. She plays a character six years younger than her actual age with complete credibility. She never falls into the common traps of precociousness and overt sentimentality, and during the scenes in Paris, there’s more than a little Audrey Hepburn in her approach. Jenny is smart, determined, and aware enough of the ways of the world to make her occasional naiveté an endearing characteristic rather than a detriment. Mulligan embodies these traits to perfection and deserves to be placed on a short list of actors deserving a Best Actress nomination.

An Education opens in the early 1960s in London, where 16-year old Jenny’s entire life focus is on getting into Oxford. Her father, Jack (Alfred Molina), reminds her constantly to avoid distractions and work on doing better in Latin, although he is concerned about how he’s going to pay for her education if she is accepted. Jenny’s mum, Majorie (Cara Seymour), is a little more solicitous of her daughter’s feelings. For her part, Jenny is content to study and play the cello until the afternoon when a stranger in a flashy car offers her (and her cello) a ride home in the pouring rain. He’s 30-something year-old David (Peter Sarsgaard), and he’s as taken by his precocious teenage passenger as she is by her Sir Galahad. Seductive and charismatic, David finds subtle ways to insinuate himself into Jenny’s life and Jack and Majorie are as impressed by him as their daughter is. But David is obviously too good to be true and, as Jenny spends more time with him, she begins to learn some of his less savory secrets.

The title refers to the life lessons that Jenny learns as a result of her romance with David, her interaction with his friends, Danny (Dominic Cooper) and Helen (Rosamund Pike), and her recognition of how limited an educated woman’s choices are during this pre-liberation era. Through the course of this movie, Jenny learns about life, love, and herself. She enters her liaison with David believing she’s worldly and self-assured, but she soon learns that a sheltered upbringing such as hers can never fully prepare someone for aspects of the “real world.”

Lone Scherfig, who is a graduate of the Dogma school of filmmaking (she made the low key romantic comedy Italian for Beginners in 2000, which was the 12th film to receive the official Dogma seal of approval), eschews overt manipulation in her approach to Jenny’s story, and it is unquestionably the right choice. By keeping the melodrama to a simmer, Scherfig makes Jenny a strong, forceful character who is ultimately in charge of her destiny, not a guileless girl who becomes the victim of an older man with confused motivations. Nick Hornby’s screenplay, as usual, is sharp and intelligent, with plenty of pithy dialogue. The only scene that rings false is one in which Alfred Molina delivers a lengthy soliloquy to a closed door.

Although Mulligan’s performance is front-and-center, she is ably supported by a talented cast. Peter Sarsagaard, adopting a credible British accent, slips easily into the role of a cad whose feelings may be more genuine than he first suspects. Dominic Cooper and Rosamund Pike are the serpents in the Garden of Eden – vapid and sensual creatures whose lifestyles are impossible not to covet. Olivia Williams, in an underwritten role, is the teacher who warns Jenny against David only to earn her student’s reproach. A tart and amusing Emma Thompson is the headmistress, whose words of wisdom are couched in amusingly Puritanical terms. Alfred Molina and Cara Seymour add a dose of low-key comedy as the middle class parents who are easy prey for someone of David’s charm. Sally Hawkins, who was so memorable last year in Mike Leigh’s Happy-Go-Lucky, has a small but important part.

On the surface, it might look as if this is a cautionary tale about the dangers of a teenage girl entering into a relationship with a man twice her age, but Jenny embarks upon her romantic adventure with a clear head. She is ultimately a casualty not of her own innocence but of something that could victimize someone of any age. In the end, this is more a character study of Jenny than a tale of tortured love, and a reminder that any education worth having comes with its share of trauma.