Cinema Catala Hollywood Movie Review

Posts Tagged ‘funeral’

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.

Everybody’s Fine explores universal themes – concepts that many sitting in the audience will relate to from one perspective or another. It’s about the ways in which the expectations of a parent can shape the life of a child – both in terms of what he or she will do to satisfy those expectations and how a failure to live up to them can create a rift. The movie also recalls the Harry Chapin song, “Cat’s in the Cradle,” which is about a father who is too busy for his son when the child is young but has the tables turned on him later in life – by the time Dad has the time, the son is preoccupied. The same dynamics introduced in the song are at work in the lives of the characters presented in this film.

British-born director Kirk Jones (Nanny McPhee, Waking Ned Devine) is re-working a 1990 film by celebrated Italian director Giuseppe Tornatore (Cinema Paradiso). The original starred Marcello Mastroianni in the role now inhabited by Robert DeNiro. Jones tones down some of the strong emotions found in Tornatore’s movie, giving this interpretation a more low-key tone. The approach is double-edged: it mutes the movie’s impact but also lessens the sense of manipulation. Everybody’s Fine works on its own terms as a road movie in which an aging man embarks upon an unexpected journey of self-discovery where he finds that some of the “cornerstones” of his life are not as certain as he believes them to be. The veil of willful blindness is lifted.

As the film opens, recent widower Frank (DeNiro) is planning for a visit from his four grown-up children; they haven’t been together since the funeral of his wife eight months ago. One-by-one, however, they cancel, citing job pressures. Recognizing that his health is failing and he might not have long to live, Frank makes the impulsive decision to go on the road and visit his children one-by-one. He wants to get to know who they have become. They were close to their mother but not to him. He was the breadwinner who pushed them to aspire to greatness, but not the parent they could confide in.

His first stop is in New York, where his youngest son, David, an artist, lives. David is not home – we soon learn from another source that he is having drug problems and is in Mexico. Traveling by bus and train, Frank heads west to Chicago, where he surprises his advertising executive daughter, Amy (Kate Beckinsale), who does what she can to hide the obvious rift that has developed between herself and her husband. After spending only a night with Amy, Frank moves on to Denver, where his son, Robert (Sam Rockwell), has established his home. Frank had been led to believe Robert is an orchestra conductor but, in fact, he is only a percussionist. Frank’s final stop is Las Vegas, where his youngest daughter, Rosie (Drew Barrymore), lives. In an effort to impress him, she borrows a spacious apartment from a friend and passes it off as her own, and introduces Frank’s grandchild as an infant she’s baby-sitting for. Frank is savvy enough to see through the illusions conjured by his children and recognizes they are pretending because they don’t want to disappoint him by showing areas of their lives where they have fallen short of his aspirations for them.

Robert DeNiro gives an amazing portrayal- one that is remarkable because he is playing an ordinary man. DeNiro, best known for his larger-than-life roles in both dramas and comedies, provides a natural, understated performance. There’s nothing extraordinary about Frank, and therein lies the genius of the actor’s work. DeNiro successfully erases his personality and we are left with only Frank: a solid working man who is bored with retirement and struggling to find his place in a world where his everyday constants – his wife and his job – are no longer around. There were times when I looked at Frank and saw my grandfather. On other occasions, I caught a glimpse of my father. And once or twice, I even saw future echoes of myself.

Everybody’s Fine doesn’t strike as forceful an emotional chord as the original. Jones builds a wider buffer between the characters and the audience. The movie works because so much of what’s on screen will resonate with viewers. The movie has its share of gently comedic moments but it is mostly a drama. It follows the general trajectory of a road movie, although this is a case when reaching the final stop is important because it’s as much a psychological destination as a geographical one. The original Italian version is not obscure (although I don’t believe it’s available on Region 1 DVD) but this is an effective re-packaging and is worth the 90-odd minutes spent in the theater joining Frank on his journey of self-discovery.