![]() |
Brian Cox does his very best Greatest Britain as Churchill |
Director: Jonathan Teplitzky
Cast: Brian Cox (Winston Churchill), Miranda Richardson
(Clementine Churchill), John Slattery (General Dwight D. Eisenhower), James
Purefoy (King George VI), Ella Purnell (Helen Garrett), Richard Durden (Jan
Smuts), Julian Wadham (Field Marshall Bernard Montgomery), Danny Webb (Field
Marshall Alan Brooke), Jonathan Aris (Air Field Marshall Trafford
Leigh-Mallory)
Someone should open a club: The Churchill Club. Every actor
who’s played the Great Man gets instant membership. President the late Robert
Hardy (seven times!). Other members? You name it: Finney, Gambon, Burton,
Spall, Gleeson, Russell Beale, West, Hoskins… Think of a shorter, slightly
rotund British character actor and inevitably they’ve had a go. Even the
decidedly non-rotund, non-short, non-British John Lithgow aced the role in
Netflix’s The Crown. With Gary Oldman
making his pitch this year in Darkest
Hour, this film sees renowned character actor Brian Cox join the club.
1944. Its three days before D-Day and Winston Churchill
(Brian Cox) is getting cold feet. Haunted by memories of Gallipoli, he fears
that the attack on Northern France will lead to disaster and oceans of blood.
Against the advice of his Generals Montgomery (Julian Wadham) and Brooke (Danny
Webb), he attempts to push General Eisenhower (John Slattery) to change the
plans. As depression takes its grip on him, only his wife Clementine (Miranda
Richardson) can get through to him.
Churchill is a bit
of a mess. It’s pretty well acted but highly televisual, shot with a
self-conscious flourish that only emphasises its micro-budget. Teplitzky is in
love with the cross-fade (or even worse the half fade) – constantly cutting from
place to place for brief moments in the middle of scenes, often for lingering
shots of actors staring out to sea or walking through fields. The action is
often framed oddly, in long shot with full bodies in shot framed between ground
and sky. Other scenes are filmed flatly – when Montgomery addresses his army,
no amount of slow pans can hide that it consists of about 20 men.
On top of that, every single scene is scored within an inch
of its bloody life. Now I love the power of film music, but this goes too far. The
score is bland, predictable and unimaginative and just not that interesting to
listen to. When it’s dropped heavy-handedly on top of every single scene it
makes you want to scream. It’s also often completely misjudged or inappropriate
– as gentle romantic piano swells during a key discussion between Churchill and
the King, you almost expect them to kiss.
That’s before we get started on the script, which is
instantly forgettable. Alex von Tunkleman wrote a long running column in the
Guardian on historical accuracy (or not) in films. Talk about a hostage to
fortune, when you try to write your own film… I’ll go into historical issues in
a bit, but there are lots of little things that feel wrong from Smuts (Deputy
PM Of South Africa!) following Churchill around like some sort of valet too
Montgomery addressing the Prime Minister to his face as “Churchill”. Stuff that
just doesn’t feel quite right. The script also relies on a fictional “young secretary”
who eventually speaks truth to the great man and wins his respect. Von
Tunkleman is no writer of snappy dialogue, the film too often feeling like a
wonky history lesson than a drama.
Historically the film does explore a different side of
Churchill – enough to ruffle the feathers of the millions of Churchill fans out
there. It focuses on his depression and self-doubt, within the framework of a
period when he was starting to become sidelined by America. It also focuses on
his little known opposition (certainly initially) to D-Day (he favoured a
second front opened in Europe’s “soft underbelly” of Italy) – although it
certainly expands this last-minute opposition for dramatic effect. I’m pretty
sure he was on board by this point (however initially reluctant)!
What the film looks like it might do (but never quite does)
is really explore some of Churchill’s laws and vulnerabilities – to look at the
negatives and see how overcoming (or dealing with these) made him a great man.
It touches heavily on Churchill’s depression – the “black dog” – with a
desperately worried Churchill retiring to his bed to despair, praying for bad
weather to prevent the landing and bawling out his secretary. Churchill is
frequently wrong or mistaken, and the film captures much of the frustration his
generals had with this talented amateur. It also isn’t afraid to show that,
with American muscle driving the war, Churchill was becoming more of a mascot
than a major orchestrator of allied strategy.
It’s a shaded portrait, but the film is eventually seduced
by Churchill’s magnestism – a King’s
Speech style final radio broadcast is all swelling regard, and a coda of
Churchill waving his hat on a beach towards France hammers home his legendary status
– miles away from its careful look at his growing irrelevance (and his concerns
about this) early in the film. For all we have characters constantly stressing
to Churchill his time is passing, the film can’t help finishing with a flourish
that hammers home his centrality.
Churchill is flat
and unimaginative but it does have an energetic, engaging performance from
Brian Cox. While not in the first rank of Churchills, he captures the charisma,
without slavishly imitating the famous voice. His Churchill, with his
depression and doubt, also feels different: a slightly counter-establishment
actor like Cox fits nicely with this. It’s an assured, charismatic performance
hampered by the material. The rest of the cast feed off scraps though Miranda
Richardson is assured as a twinkly level-headed Clementine. Richard Durden also
deserves mention as gruffly supportive Smuts, as does James Purefoy as a gentle
George VI.
Churchill means
well – but fails. It’s aiming to question some of the reverence we have for the
past, but ends up falling between stools, in the end too in love with the myth,
but too critical to please the die hards. Flatly filmed and woodenly written,
too many scenes fade from memory too quickly. Brian Cox (and Winston) deserved
better.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: only a member of this blog may post a comment.