My second suggestion of anti-Royal Wedding medication for the ordinary man, following the sensational spectacle of Thor, is a single strong dose of BBC drama United, shown on Sunday and now available on iplayer. If Thor was grounded in fun fantasy then United is rooted firmly in poignant and period storytelling, of the sort the Beeb does so well. In fact with budget cuts beginning to bite, our national broadcaster has made it clear that quality dramas like United and The Crimson Petal and the White are the future of BBC2 in particular. If future projects are as good as these then it’s a wise as well as an economical decision.
United is the story of the tragic Munich air crash that killed most of Manchester United football club’s first team, as well as reporters and staff, after a successful European cup match in Belgrade. The squad’s flight was stopping over in a snowy Munich to refuel and the players and coaching staff were keen to return in time for their league game that weekend, and thus avoid a points deduction. For most football fans the catastrophe that cruelly cut short the life of so many of “Busby’s Babes” is the stuff of familiar legend. I have been a Manchester United fan since the age of 6 and was raised on the fairytales of pure footballers from both before the disaster and after it. The men directly touched by such devastating events forged the foundations for Manchester United to become the world famous and successful club it is today.
Rest assured though, United is a good drama and an absorbing watch, pure and simple. For those without the background in football heritage or even those that can’t tolerate the game, this is a captivating human story of careers, celebrity and comebacks. Most importantly this is an extremely British tale and the perfect anaesthetic for ears bleeding profusely because of the hypocritical and imbecilic and meaningless whining of Americans pleasuring themselves over the blandest, most lifeless 24 hour coverage of the exterior of Bucking-HAM palace.
Despite the subject matter United is not all doom and gloom. For over half an hour from the start we are welcomed into the heart of a football club going from strength to strength. But it’s not about the football; it’s about the characters at the club. We are treated to finely honed BBC costume drama detail, from the 1950s fashions, to the dressing room, to Old Trafford, the Theatre of Dreams itself, rendered lifelike with impressively unnoticeable CGI. Most pleasing of all is the delicious double act formed between David Tennant’s Welsh coach Jimmy Murphy and Dougray Scott’s understated but charismatic portrayal of United’s most celebrated manager, Matt Busby.
Most of the time, Tennant steals the show, as he does in almost everything he’s in. It is by no means one of the more important judges of an actor, but Tennant continually succeeds at accent after accent, this time believably carrying off the musical Welsh tongue. This role also allows him to show off other more vital aspects of his talent too though. He has tremendous fun motivating the players as a coach with vision and then more than copes with the emotional side to the story when the drama hits. The majority of Doctor Who fans may now be fully warming to Matt Smith but Tennant remains a class act and it’s actually refreshing to see him embracing parts as diverse and interesting as this one.
It’s fitting that United is mostly told from the perspective of a young Bobby Charlton. He’s now a Sir and a national treasure, but then he was just a lad that wanted to play football. And he ended up living through a harrowing and traumatic experience. Yet he came out the other side of it and was lucky enough to have been part of the great team before the crash, and the even greater side built from the ashes. Jack O’Connell, who plays the young Charlton here, does a really good job whether he’s stumbling through the plane’s ripped ruins and grimacing at explosions, practicing on the pitch or gazing up in awe at the stadium.
As a production United really does ooze quality. The acting is top notch, the music is touching and the directing beautiful, particularly at the snowy crash site itself and in the dressing rooms. It also deals sensitively with an immensely emotive issue. The question of blame is delicately raised and wisely the film does not nail its opinion to any specific interpretation. Some will blame those who were desperate to play abroad and then make it back home in time for the league match, and indeed Busby blamed himself. Some will blame the league officials who refused to grant a postponement to the fixture after United’s European trip. Some will insist the officials at the airport and the mechanics and the pilots should have taken more care. But the sensible will just accept the terrible tragedy of it all. The enormous grief.
Of course the overwhelming and important cost of the crash was the human one, with so many young men dead. Their families and girlfriends and mates were robbed of their lives prematurely. As a drama United undoubtedly tells that tale. It often seems callous, stupid and emotionally ignorant to talk of the cost to the game of football. I call myself a football fan but much of the time the game leaves me unmoved. I do not live and breathe the game, I no longer care greatly as I used to as a child when one of my favoured teams does poorly. It takes a great occasion or an unusually interesting story, or an exciting match with beautiful passages of play, to truly ignite my interest these days. But there certainly was a significant cost to the game of football after the Munich crash, and it was a cost that mattered almost as much as the loss of their lives. United tells that story too.
It mattered that such a great and talented team was almost completely wiped out, because it mattered to them. It would have mattered to those that died and it mattered to those left behind. It mattered to the fans that mourned them and even the people that knew them. It’s too easy to talk with nostalgia of how football used to be, with starting elevens as opposed to giant squads and meagre salaries and basic training pitches; the modern game is too often ignorantly slated as excessive junk. Watching United though you can see the appeal of that nostalgia, of an old school approach brimming with romance, you can understand those who knew it firsthand ranting and raving at the money making machine that’s replaced it.
Nowadays you wouldn’t get Tennant’s character, a first team coach, ringing round top flight clubs begging for players in the aftermath of a disaster so that the locals could see a game and to maintain the winning philosophy of a club. It just wouldn’t be possible. Or necessary. You wouldn’t get a fairytale quite as magical as the one that swept a ramshackle team, comprised of youngsters and amateur unknowns, to the F.A. Cup Final at Wembley just months after the crash.
I’m not ashamed to admit I cried watching United. I might have been predisposed to an outpouring of emotion because United stirred up a long since cooled love in me for the beautiful game. But I defy anyone not to be moved by such excellent acting, such accurate portrayals of grief and commitment and passion. I have been reminded by United that anything, be it art, table tennis or cartoons, that takes you out of yourself and absorbs you, helping you to forget pain and grief completely just for a moment, is a worthwhile and admirable activity. Something worth fighting for.
The Royal Wedding is more likely to make me vomit than get teary but I know it would be more acceptable to sob down the pub over the achievements of football greats than the nuptials of a posh Prince. So when the women are welling up at the sight of a dress or a bouquet, tell them you’re not dead inside you’d just rather save your sympathy and admiration for real royalty.
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Tagged 11, 1950s, 1958, 2010, Abbey, absorb, act, action, activity, airport, antidotes, ball, BBC, BBC 2, beautiful, Belgrade, blame, blog, Bobby, Bolton, bouquet, boys, Britain, British, Busby, Busby Babes, Channel, characters, charismatic, Charlton, Clock, Comedy, Community, culture, Cup, Cuts, David, day, director, Doctor, double, Dougray, dress, Duncan Edwards, Ed, eleven, England, engrossed, Europe, European, exercise, FA, feminine, film, Flickering, football, forget, funny, girls, grief, Guardian, history, iplayer, Jack, january, Labour, League, Liam, local, London, love, macho, man, management, Manchester, manly, marriage, masculine, Matt, movie, Munich, myth, narrative, new, novel, nuptials, O'Connell, Old Trafford, Part 2, Partisan, passion, pitch, plot, Politics, posh, practice, prince, ranks, Red Star, Review, Royal, royal wedding, Scott, script, sex, Sir, Smith, snow, soccer, stadium, starting, story, style, Tactics, talent, teary, Tennant, The, The Crimson Petal and the White, thoughts, Timelord, To, train, training, Triffids, Trim, United, up, Verdict, wedding, welling, Wembley, Westminster, Who, women, writer, writing
If you’re not fed up with the circus yet, you soon will be. Every clowning performer, every newsreader, commentator and gushing crowd member, will be salt rubbed into your severely wounded mood. Gossiping and gawping at two rich strangers is irritating for half an hour, annoying for an evening and soul destroying after days and weeks. Wedding talk is a stressful and pointless nuisance. At the end of this week the womenfolk will be in an unstoppably riotous mood. It will be terrifying.
Your masculinity will be torturously chipped away. The usual refuge, the pub, will be hideously transformed into a paradise of bunting and delicate decoration. When the confetti and the cupcakes and the tiaras get too much, new escape routes will be needed. After the horrors of the day itself, you’ll need to rediscover your true self and chill out as a bloke again.
For the alternatives to the madness, the cures to wedding fever and feral femininity, keep it glued to Flickering Myth. We’ll remind you that there’s good honest entertainment worth living for after a monstrous marriage marathon.
Your first anti-wedding tip then is Kenneth Branagh’s (that’s right the thespian and national treasure, directing a comic book adaptation) eagerly anticipated Marvel epic Thor, in three dimensions courtesy of the now standard issue Elton John specs. After all what could be more manly than a hero with impossibly mahoosive muscles and a badass cape, whose principal superpower is a giant hammer for bashing stuff to bits? He’s a God-like handyman irresistible to women and the envy of lesser men.
I promised myself I wouldn’t resort to atrocious puns to describe the merits and failures of Branagh’s creation, as other reviews have done. But then I thorght, by Odin’s beard there’s no harm in saying that whilst this isn’t quite a thor star film, its plot hammers along with such thunderous gusto that it at least cracks the norse code of decent superhero movies for the most part. The critics are right to muck about with words and have fun with their reviews though; because Thor, whatever its faults, is a fun watch.
Despite the drawbacks of spending much of the running time in the CGI kingdom of Asgard, I found such a different setting mostly refreshing. Gleaming golden palaces, elaborate armour and impossible landscapes are ingredients unavailable to the likes of Batman and Iron Man, no matter how artificial the environment might sometimes seem. Undeniably at times the 3D CGI is visually dazzling and striking. There are even a number of good, thumping action scenes in the eternal realm. As some reviewers have pointed out, setting much of the film in Asgard ensures the audience becomes attached to it, whether they appreciate its over the top beauty or not.
There’s no doubt that the fun factor only truly kicks in when things literally crash down to earth though. There are a good number of gags, nearly all of which are LOL worthy. Thor amusingly thrashes about at the humans he interacts with, struggling to accept he is at the mercy of the mortals. He only really bonds with one of us human plebs, the beautiful and gorgeous (I do not have a crush!) Natalie Portman. She plays a scientist on the verge of some vague but momentous discovery to do with particles and space or something. Thor sees she is clever. And that she’s a woman too. Portman is by no means mesmerising as she is in Black Swan here, but she does the job asked of her by the story, as do Anthony Hopkins and even Chris Hemsworth as Thor, who looked so wooden in the trailer. No I don’t just think she did a good job because she’s hot.
You might like to know the basic thrust of Thor’s plot: Thor heir to throne, Thor seeks revenge on Frost Giants, Thor banished for breaking peace, Thor seeks to find lost hammer, Thor inadvertently falls for hot human scientist, Thor tries to return to save kingdom. I like to think he may have grunted it out bluntly like that. And yes you read that rightly, the bad guys in this are called Frost Giants. They are perhaps Thor’s weakest ingredient; childishly simple foes that are difficult to take seriously. But again they are at least different to standard superhero fare.
The best bits, besides the laughs, following Thor’s fall to earth are two stunning action scenes. The first sees Thor roaring like King Kong as he bashes a bunch of S.H.I.E.L.D agents. He’s trying to get to his beloved magical hammer, which is sealed off by awesome looking white tubes by the guys in suits that will link all Marvel’s superheroes together for the forthcoming Avengers film. The second climatic action scene sees Thor and his warrior friends fleeing from a fire breathing robot despatched by the traitor in Asgard’s camp to kill Thor.
This scene gets the best out of a small and dusty New Mexico town location; by smashing it to pieces with fantastic fiery explosions. The really impressive and surprising thing, especially given all the talk about Thor’s visual style, is the sound the killer robot makes every time it unleashes a fireball; it’s so piercing and deafening that you feel the impact of each blast. My friend violently flinched in surprise at one moment when the thing shaped up to slap something. Then in the aftermath of the destruction the soundtrack and the visuals reach suitably epic proportions for Thor’s big race against time comeback moment.
Thor is of course the God of Thunder, which is fitting given that most superheroes grapple with the stormy consequences of their own God complexes. Needless to say Thor predictably learns his lesson, to put others before yourself is truly heroic blah blah, but in engrossingly epic style. There is just something fun about this film, which makes you reluctant to dwell on its various faults and flaws. Thor ended leaving me wanting more from the character and more from his world, despite the silliness of some of the mythological squabbles. Branagh has not crafted the meaningful art he is accustomed to, but a fun and refreshing thorker of a blockbuster. He may be a prince, but Thor will easily sail your mind away from all things Royal.
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Tagged 2010, 3D, action, agent, America, Americans, Anthony, antidotes, article, articles, Asgard, at, bash, Batman, battles, BBC, Beard, bits, blog, blokes, Branagh, breathing, bridge, Britain, British, bunting, cakes, Cameron, Captain America, ceremony, CGI, Chris, cinema, Cineworld, Clegg, CNN, Coalition, Comedy, confetti, culture, Cup, Cuts, David, decoration, Deity, delicate, desert, destroyer, director, dust, Ed, Elton, England, epic, explosions, fantasy, feature, females, feminine, feral, fight, film, fire, Flickering, flinch, Friday 29th April 2011, Frost, funny, Giants, glued, god, God complex, gossip, Guardian, gushing, Hamlet, Hammer, handyman, Hemsworth, history, Hopkins, hot, Hulk, hypocritical, Iron Man, it, ITV, John, keep, Kenneth, Labour, lesson, Liam, Loki, LOLZ, London, love, macho, magic, manly, marriage, marvel, men, movie, myth, narrative, Natalie, NBC, new, New Mexico, Nine, Norse, norse code, Norway, novel, Odin, Part 1, plot, Politics, Portman, prince, pub, punches, realms, refreshing, Review, robot, Royal, sail, Scandanavian, scene, science, score, script, Series, sex, Shield, soundtrack, specs, story, style, superhero, Superman, The Avengers, Thespian, Thor, thor star, thorght, thoughts, tiaras, To, Trim, UK, Verdict, warrior, wedding, Westminster Abbey, writer, writing, Yanks
Audiences are flocking to see The King’s Speech absolutely everywhere, ultimately not because of the quality of storytelling and filmmaking but a deep rooted attachment to monarchy. Many now simultaneously resent the royal family and find something irresistibly exotic about them. In a superb article in today’s Guardian, Jonathan Freedland goes some way to explaining the popularity of the film and in particular its appeal to Americans. He also, most accurately and interestingly, points out why even the most reasoned of arguments in favour of a more modern, fairer system will fall down whilst our current Queen remains on the throne; a rare, living link to the vital foundations of our most important national memory. And despite the flaws of our monarchy it’s refreshing to witness the powerful respect for history that maintains the love for them.
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Tagged 1940, 19th January 2011, alone, America, bafta, Blood, Britain, class, Colin, divide, elites, Elizabeth, Empire, fair, fight, Firth, flaws, Freedland, Guardian, history, Hitler, imperialism, Jonathan, King's, line, link, love, memory, modern, monarchy, national, nazis, Oscars, power, prince, privilege, Queen, Republican, respect, Royal, second, speech, The, victory, war, Wembley, win, World
It’s difficult to know what one’s destiny is; or if there is such a thing. Colin Firth for example seemed set to play bumbling Brits in silly rom-coms for all time, until the perfect, acclaimed home for his restrained emotion emerged in the form of firstly, a suicidal homosexual in Tom Ford’s sublime A Single Man and now spluttering monarch King “Bertie” George in Tom Hooper’s very regal Oscar contender, The King’s Speech. Helena Bonham Carter’s fate seemed to be mad eccentric types, inspired by her vicious turns as villainess Bellatrix in the Harry Potter franchise, only to find herself alongside Firth as the Queen Mum before she was quite Queen or indeed, merely a mother.
You’d think that at least in the Royal family destinies are clear; smooth processions along a plush red carpet blood line. But in the 1930s a scandalous affair and subsequent abdication crisis in the prelude to war meant that the poor old anxious Duke of York found himself stepping up to the throne ahead of time. The youth and popularity of his wild brother meant that he probably never foresaw himself taking on the big job. He certainly didn’t want it. And yet Guy Pearce’s Edward feels he simply must step aside if it means he can fulfil his love (or lust) for his American sweetheart.
Despite the sideshows of better known history, which adds sparkle and meaning to events, the heart of this film is the untold story of a King’s personal problems and his struggles to overcome them. Firth’s Duke of York has been struggling with a stammer for most of his life and the film begins as he and his wife seek treatment from various esteemed medics. His father, King George V played by Michael Gambon, has already noticed the wayward ways of Pearce’s Edward and starts pinning his hopes on the stuttering Bertie for a viable successor. However in the new age of radio, voice is everything for a monarch. Eventually the excellent, perfectly spoken Bonham Carter finds Geoffrey Rush’s Lionel Logue for her husband and the film comes to life.
From their very first scene together, Rush and Firth captivate the audience. No matter what other merits The King’s Speech has as a film, you will always want the action to get the King and his speech therapist back in a room again, as no other scenes come close for simple enjoyment. That is not to say that the other actors don’t give wonderful performances; Bonham Carter, Pearce, Gambon and Spall are all spot-on. And there is drama and humour elsewhere. But the speech therapy is after all what the film is about despite all the other momentous events. It’s a very personal drama about the weight of expectation on one flawed individual, born and bred in a cotton ball world. The best of the humour from some magnificent lines in David Seidler’s script sparks rapidly in these intimate scenes too.
However I couldn’t help thinking at times during The King’s Speech that it simply wasn’t as funny for those of a younger generation. Sure it wasn’t the stuffy, serious costume drama I’d been expecting either. But the cinema was packed with the elderly and middle-aged who seemed to snigger at the slightest hint of cheek from Rush’s speech therapist, or the merest sniff of rage from Firth’s dignified Royal. Most of the humour in The King’s Speech is of this variety, with the silver haired audience exploding into laughter thinking “oh dear, imagine saying that to the Queen today”. I was inclined to look on the dialogue as clever and witty, rather than uproariously funny.
I did thoroughly enjoy The King’s Speech though. The period detail is predictably sumptuous and immersive. The script is not only lively and witty but gripping and concise. The cast are all superb. I disagree with the criticisms of some reviews that the film seems to conclude by saying the King’s personal triumph over his demons won Britain the war over Hitler. This movie simply isn’t telling that story. And the story it does tell is fresh, moving and engaging. It’s at its best when reduced to simple parts; a therapist, a patient and his troublesome speech. Firth proves once again he’s stepped up into serious Oscar worthy roles and breathes life into the British period drama. It’s worth seeing for some rare, theatre like scenes that give acting talent centre stage above all else.
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Tagged abdicate, acting, American, Bertie, Bonham-Carter, Churchill, clever, Colin, David, Edward, Firth, Gambon, Geoffrey, Guy, Helena, Hooper, King's, Lionel, Logue, Michael, Palace, Pearce, Royal, Rush, scandal, script, Seidler, Spall, speech, The, therapist, Timothy, Tom, Winston, witty
Basically: bouncing boobs, breached bodices, bonking, beauty, blondes, brunettes, betrayal, backstabbing, blood bonds, bastard babies, beheading, Bana, Boleyn. Bogstandard historical “fact”/fiction that skips superficially over and through major historical events rapidly, particuarly towards the end, in favour of a focus on lust and madness. The supporting cast appear predominantly British, such as the colourfully named Sherlock Benedict Cumberbatch, but Hollywood starlets from overseas are favoured for the key roles, with an Australian playing the English King and prim performances from Natalie Portman and Scarlett Johanasson as the sisters. In many ways a two-dimensional affront to historical storytelling, this film is however ultimately watchable due to most of it resembling a Tudor version of those sexy M and S ads, such is the brilliant beauty of the period detail and exquisite human forms of the cast. This isn’t just a Royal sex scandal, it’s Scarlett Johansson moaning with ecstascy as Bana’s buff Henry the Eighth towers over her, expressing his divine power as monarch in glorious slow-mo. This isn’t just sisterly rivalry, but a catfight between Portman’s manipulative, manicured and manufactured British tones and Johansson’s saintly gasps of disbelief, with the prizes of religion, state, power and wealth at stake. Meet the original, surprisingly well-to-do, respectful and ambitious footballer’s wives.
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Tagged accent, adaptation, Bana, beauty, Benedict Cumberbatch, bodice, bogstandard, bonking, boobs, British, Catholic, desire, divorce, Eighth, England, Eric, Evie, film, food ads, Henry, Johansson, King, lust, M and S, Marks and Spencer, Natalie, novel, period detail, Peter Morgan, Phillipa Gregory, Portman, power, Protestant, Review, Royal, scandal, Scarlett, scathing, script, seduction, Sherlock, short, story, The Other Boleyn Girl, Tudor, V for Vendetta, wives