These are films for people that start yearning for Christmas when the bonfire is still warm. Maybe earlier. These are films for people that don’t want to accept the fact that they are not the centre of the huggy universe. These are films for people to cosy up to, round the fire, as fluffy snow flakes caress the window, and Cliff Richard plays as heads nod in an ironic but happy way: they know it’s uncool but to them, uncool is cool, right?
All Richard Curtis films are thus: things may go wrong, but let’s not get too distracted by that. Let’s count our blessings and high-five our cares away. So, Keira Knightley is charmed by an idiot with cue-cards on her doorstep professing futile love. Hugh Grant is acceptable as Prime Minister, quashing the dastardly yanks with a stammer and a raised eyebrow. Martine McCutcheon is a delightful chav made good. Rhys Ifans is still getting sizeable roles in major releases. Baubles gleam and bad stuff is just a temporary inconvenience. No-one really means it, they’re just human. Everything turns out okay in the end. Switch the news off, it may disturb. Airbrush the discontent, it may corrode the saccharine. We are strapped in for Richard Curtis – let the Andrex puppies endearingly tumble into view, let the world disappear, it’s time to ease yourself into a parallel world.
You can see the allure. The world is shit. It’s escapism, a balm, 90 minutes of succour for the harassed. And it’s vaguely enjoyable, in the same way that listening to a cute 19-year old Jehovah’s Witness talk nonsense is cute. There’s no harm done, and we’ve all had a laugh. Philip Seymour Hoffman takes a well-earned holiday and reads his lines out, he looks like he’s having a ball and you can hardly deny him that. This must be a delightful little side-project for him, knocking about with a few Brits for a bit, japing about between takes. Every scene reeks of fun, out-takes, barely concealed mirth, endless bonhomie. Kenneth Branagh, eesavinfun. Stereotypical killjoy figure, old-fashioned curmudgeon. Think 70’s TV authority figures: Blakey etc. Stick up his arse, board-rigid, no pulse. Straight from the archives, dusted off and reanimated 30 years too late. Oh, where’s your sense of humour reviewer man? Well, the last time I checked, it was alive and well in the year 2009. Which shows re-runs of classic comedy from time-to-time. And what I do is, I laugh along if it’s funny, and if it hasn’t aged well I just think, ‘That was obviously something that worked for my parents/grandparents/easy-to-please dullards whenever it came out, maybe still does. But it’s now obsolete. Unless you’re undiscerning or desperately undernourished in the old laff department.’
The story? Forget it. Radio Caroline meets Benny Hill and Morecambe and Wise via On The Buses. But with that incomparably twee Curtis feel about it all, and not nearly as funny. Yes there's plenty of easy charm and you're not in a bad place. Father Christmas has got his arm round you and he wants you to get involved and stop being such a cynic. So what? It’s not cinema.
All Richard Curtis films are thus: things may go wrong, but let’s not get too distracted by that. Let’s count our blessings and high-five our cares away. So, Keira Knightley is charmed by an idiot with cue-cards on her doorstep professing futile love. Hugh Grant is acceptable as Prime Minister, quashing the dastardly yanks with a stammer and a raised eyebrow. Martine McCutcheon is a delightful chav made good. Rhys Ifans is still getting sizeable roles in major releases. Baubles gleam and bad stuff is just a temporary inconvenience. No-one really means it, they’re just human. Everything turns out okay in the end. Switch the news off, it may disturb. Airbrush the discontent, it may corrode the saccharine. We are strapped in for Richard Curtis – let the Andrex puppies endearingly tumble into view, let the world disappear, it’s time to ease yourself into a parallel world.
You can see the allure. The world is shit. It’s escapism, a balm, 90 minutes of succour for the harassed. And it’s vaguely enjoyable, in the same way that listening to a cute 19-year old Jehovah’s Witness talk nonsense is cute. There’s no harm done, and we’ve all had a laugh. Philip Seymour Hoffman takes a well-earned holiday and reads his lines out, he looks like he’s having a ball and you can hardly deny him that. This must be a delightful little side-project for him, knocking about with a few Brits for a bit, japing about between takes. Every scene reeks of fun, out-takes, barely concealed mirth, endless bonhomie. Kenneth Branagh, eesavinfun. Stereotypical killjoy figure, old-fashioned curmudgeon. Think 70’s TV authority figures: Blakey etc. Stick up his arse, board-rigid, no pulse. Straight from the archives, dusted off and reanimated 30 years too late. Oh, where’s your sense of humour reviewer man? Well, the last time I checked, it was alive and well in the year 2009. Which shows re-runs of classic comedy from time-to-time. And what I do is, I laugh along if it’s funny, and if it hasn’t aged well I just think, ‘That was obviously something that worked for my parents/grandparents/easy-to-please dullards whenever it came out, maybe still does. But it’s now obsolete. Unless you’re undiscerning or desperately undernourished in the old laff department.’
The story? Forget it. Radio Caroline meets Benny Hill and Morecambe and Wise via On The Buses. But with that incomparably twee Curtis feel about it all, and not nearly as funny. Yes there's plenty of easy charm and you're not in a bad place. Father Christmas has got his arm round you and he wants you to get involved and stop being such a cynic. So what? It’s not cinema.
Oh well, a grumpy review indeed. I should perhaps've not bothered with the review at all, but I didn't want to shirk my responsibilities...
ReplyDeleteWhat happened to Curtis? Blackadder's funny. As is Mr. Bean (yes, Mr. Bean). And I've been known to laugh occasionally at The Vicar of Dibley.
ReplyDeleteHe got cosy. He made it. He's perhaps too mbusy (fair enough) with Children In Need. He's clearly a good guy, but maybe he's better in tandem with a Ben Elton. 20 years ago.
ReplyDelete'too mbusy'? Clearly. '...busy'!
ReplyDelete