
In scanners recently, I caught some
commentary about a recent book about Robert Altman. It's one of those tawdry and superficial pieces about how Robert Altman is overrated because, apparently, the man liked to party. Not liking that such a groundbreaking filmmaker could have smoked weed, the critic is willing to dismiss the entire canon, though it is far easier to dismiss the critic. Packed in a loose, organic, and improvised style...Altman's films create warm ensembles, unforgettable characters, and vivid environments.
Director Richard Curtis said, with his new film Pirate Radio, that he wanted to make a 'rock and roll
MASH.' The problem with that is MASH, set in Korea with an old-timey soundtrack, is considerably more rock and roll than Pirate Radio.
Pirate Radio is occasionally cute, and even fun. In a very quick setup, the film explains that the British airwaves only allow for a very brief period of rock music per day, so offshore stations in international waters would fill the void and give the Brits some heavy riffs to rock out to. Then a young protagonist enters the ship to meet his godfather, who seems nice and classy. Then we meet the rest of the party, a dimwit roommate whose personal trait is he never makes sense, a ladies man that I found really annoying...and the rest, silent pretty boy, token lesbian, and the ringleader played by Philip Seymour Hoffman who seems along for the beer.
While the director was going for MASH, and I was hoping for
Pump Up the Volume, the result comes off more like a period version of
The Life Aquatic with Steve Zessou without the underlying pathos. We witness the 'dark side of rock and roll,' which basically amounts to 'pretty girls go for famous guys' even if they're older and less attractive, apparently. The groupies here leave one yearning for the intelligence of Penny Lane in
Almost Famous. They aren't particularly interesting or nice, though many have nice entrance scenes approaching the boat with an appropriate song blaring. Even Emma Thompson gets one of these entrances in a brief role as the kids unlikable mother. At least the lesbian (I can't remember her name) character is nice, and she gets laid too, so, that's good, and the first of the scenes of women approaching the boat is cute, in a Benny Hill
sexy party kind of way. If I make this movie sound naughty, it isn't. The sex is of a mostly proper juvenile nature.
So, the British government epitomized by one particularly pompous prig, Kenneth Branagh, and his assistant Twatt tries to shut them down with mixed results. I wonder if it's weird to be in the same film as your ex-wife? It would be nice to see them act together again. Anyways, the party goes on, the kids play chicken, charades, 'I have never...', and drink a lot, though strangely, not when playing 'I have never...'. When the main kids paramour runs astray his buds comfort him with milk and cookies. Really. You'd think they'd be pumping the stomach of an od'ing roadie by now, but no.
So that's about it until the government finally succeeds, and the boat defies them further, risking their own lives. Strangely, the more serious things got, the funnier the film was. There's a nice seen juxtaposing the crew of the ship having a Christmas, and the conservative establishment dude having a very dull one with his family and assistant. Contrasted with the such coldness, the warmth of the crew becomes apparent. You how the director is citing Altman here, assembling not so much a cast, as a party and surrogate family. He follows them, catches side conversations and intimate moments. The film shares the episodic format of MASH, the trick is to get a plethora of natural footage and then hone it down into a narrative. Apparently the American version of this film was edited by 20 minutes from the original British release The Boat that Rocked.
One wonders if that cut was better, because this one is terribly edited. MASH was meandering, but increasingly involving. This is just a series of cut-together montages. We hear very brief clips of excellent songs, but they don't last long enough to ever enthrall the viewer. It's all too choppy, and at the same time overly slick. It doesn't have the patience to let it's ideas ring, it's all streamlined and fabricated like Oceans 13. One gets the impression that it's trying to be cool, and the director gets in his own way. The camera blinks and spasms in a hyper fashion, when it should kick back and take a long slow look, and while Altman used a hand-held camera he was a least kind enough to pick an object and focus on it instead of shaking the damn thing.
Alas, the film is not completely unpleasant. It is cute at times, and a good heart and a healthy disrespect for authority. It reminds one of listening to their favorite radio DJs in the times before podcasts. I always like to listen to the Kinks, or Cat Stevens, and watching 60s period actors cavorting to them is whimsical. The actors are all believable, and the costumes they wear are great. Still, one gets the impression that the true story that inspired this must be a lot more interesting than the film. It makes one feel good, but it's charm wears off the more one thinks about it. Perhaps Richard Curtis was ripped off by his dealer.