Feminist Music Geek

So, I caught a free screening of Pirate Radio last night (today is its opening day in the states). I don’t want to dishearten Richard Curtis fans who treasure Four Weddings and a Funeral and Love Actually (neither of which I’ve seen), but he dropped a big bloody bollock with this movie (known as The Boat That Rocked in the UK).

How can that be, you ask? It’s about a British pirate radio station during the mid-1960s. Its soundtrack boasts choice cuts from the British Invasion. And it’s got a charming cast. How can a movie be bad when it has Philip Seymour Hoffman and Bill Nighy and Nick Frost and Rhys Ifans and Rhys Darby and cast members from The IT Crowd, along with cameos from Emma Thompson and January Jones? Kenneth Branagh even goes all campy villain on us as the station’s bureaucratic nemesis (see also Wild Wild West, a terrible movie where he chews some scenery as the bad guy). That sounds great on paper. Even if it’s saddled with boomer era clichés about free love and rock music changing the world, it’s gotta be fun, right? Who doesn’t want to run a pirate radio station on a boat with these folks?

There’s so much wrong with this hack job of a movie. There’s a lot left unexplained. How did this ragtag group get a boat? Why is rock music illegal to broadcast in 1960s Great Britain? How are these radio personalities so famous? There’s also lots of truncated plot points and weird tonal shifts and nonsensical character motivations which I don’t think would have been aided by the original cut’s three-hour running time. The protagonist is a bloke named Carl (played by Tom Sturridge) who may or may not have been put on the boat by his mother to meet his dad, but I’m too bored to care. And that’s saying something, as his dad is played by Ralph Brown, who was Danny the Dealer in Withnail and I.

I’d also mention that it’s kinda disheartening to see Hoffman — who plays a crusty American deejay named the Count — spout rockist catchphrases like “a whop bam boo” and “young men and young women will always dream dreams and put those dreams into song” with stealy-eyed import. But it’s also kinda amazing. A lesser actor couldn’t pull it off. But Hoffman makes Count’s turn of phrase sound like some kind of rock deejay John McClane. Oh, and he almost drowns when the boat sinks. Except he doesn’t and emerges victoriously (and ridiculously) from the North Sea. Such is the power of rock. 

But I think you know what my big problem is. Perhaps unsurprisingly, the roles for women and girls are marginal and insultingly one-dimensional. While I think there may have been an effort to keep their presence ornmanental so as to make a commentary on the era’s regressive attitude toward gender and sexual politics, I think the movie exacerbates the problem rather than rectify it.

There are groovy birds (re: prostitutes, groupies, and moms) who board the ship to “service” the talent, sometimes pretending to love one crew member to get closer to another and wounding their pride. Awesome. 

There’s one woman in the crew — a lesbian named Felicity (played by Katherine Parkinson) who basically serves as the ship’s put-upon housewife. She does get a girlfriend, but this is given for too obvious, peripheral treatment to seem as real progress.

There are no musicians, except for women like Dusty Springfield, Skeeter Davis, and Sandy Shaw who function as playlist selections.

There are also huddles of simpering female fans who listen attentively to the radio — students, flight attendants, secretaries, cleaning ladies, mothers, wives, single women, waitresses, and shopgirls. None of them speak, though many giggle. They also lack names. Oh, correction. Kenneth Branaugh’s secretary Miss C (played by Sinead Matthews) sort of gets one.

Anyway, this sucks, and a likeable cast can’t salvage its suckitude. So I suggest instead of seeing this movie that you watch Jane Campion’s A Girl’s Own Story instead. Here’s a scene. Wish I could post the whole thing.

Made in 1984 and available on the Criterion Collection edition of Campion’s debut feature, Sweetie, this short focuses on a group of Australian schoolgirls who came of age during Beatlemania. It showcases the complex relationships girls have with their fandom, along with their homosocial friendships and burgeoning sexuality. It’s pretty awesome, and actually suggests what it may have been like to be a teenaged girl during rock’s golden era. Pirate Radio couldn’t be bothered.