BRASSED OFF
UK, 1997,
Directed by Mark Herman
Ecumenical Jury Commendation, Berlin, 1997,
SHORT REVIEW
Brassed Off wears its heart upon a colliery brass band’s braided sleeves and trumpets its message: the pit closures in the 1980s were a cynical government exercise, the attendant consultations fraudulent. Communities, marriages and individual self-respect were ruthlessly trampled upon, even destroyed. But, for all its agit-prop this is a delightful film, packed with interesting and entertaining characters, clear social observation, wry comedy, romance, and moments when you try to pretend (as one of the characters does) that your eyes are mysteriously “leaking”. Plus––a tremendous plus––toe-tapping, open-airish music,
resplendently played by Grimethorpe Colliery Band.
LONG REVIEW
Brassed Off wears its heart upon a colliery brass band’s braided sleeves, and trumpets its message: the pit closures in the 1980s were a cynical government exercise, the attendant consultations fraudulent. Communities, marriages and individual self-respect were trampled ruthlessly underfoot. But, for all the agit-prop, this delightful film is packed with interesting and entertaining characters, clear social observation, wry comedy, romance, and moments when you try to pretend (as one of the characters does) that your eyes are mysteriously “leaking”. Plus––a tremendous plus––toe-tapping, open-airish music, resplendently played by Grimethorpe Colliery Band.
Grimethorpe pit had itself been closed a few years earlier, so the bandsmen had experienced at first hand many of the tensions the film explores: pressure from wives and families to relinquish the expense and time of band membership in order to fight for their jobs, stress, hunger, even physical illness. There are large elements of fairy tale. The band wins the National Championships in London (as Grimethorpe itself did in the year its pit was closed) and one of the several crises which hits them during their preparations is solved by the appearance of a beautiful girl, a returning native, who keeps quiet about why she has returned, but just happens to be a smashing flugelhorn player.
I have some experience in brass bands, and feared the worst before I saw the film. Such bands are frequently treated condescendingly on screen, as if the only possible attitude to the activity must be that it is inherently laughable. Not so here, however. The bandroom atmosphere is authentic, from the ribald language and sexist jokes to the blunt unpretentiousness that turns Concierto de Aranjuez into “Concerto de Orange Juice”. Bandsmen’s wives, despite their earlier objections, cheer loyally at the contest. Throughout you have a sense of both hard-bitten grumpiness and of people doing something they love. Their conductor’s final, earthy, very nearly over the top assertion of human and social values is immediately undercut by some down-to-earth Yorkshire behaviour which I found totally believable.
Conductor Pete Postlethwaite is taut and gaunt and fanatical in his determination to keep the band playing until the heavens fall. Tara Fitzgerald gets some complicated fingerings right as the enigmatic fugelhornist. But this is an ensemble piece, and the entire cast fits precisely into the dramatic and comic narrative, just as the Grimethorphe Band negotiates anything the conductor puts in front of them.
CRITERIA FOR FILM REVIEWING
I have generally reviewed cinema as weekly or occasional critic or lecturer for intelligent people who are interested in but not necessarily expert on film. If I were to find myself writing for a specialist film magazine or journal, I would probably have to increase my specialist vocabulary. I don’t remember ever using, for example, phrases like “the grammar of film” or waxing learned about lenses and filters.
I prefer, borrowing an idea from a distinguished theatre critic, now sadly dead, Kenneth Tynan, to regard myself as a reporter. I report how I felt about sitting in a cinema on a particular date, watching a particular film in company with a particular audience. I emphasise the idea of particularities deliberately; I don’t really believe that there is such a thing as a wholly objective review written entirely independently of the factors I have mentioned.
The point was brought home to me early in the year 2000 when I saw Kenneth Branaugh’s Love’s Labours Lost twice. The first time was at the Berlin Film Festival. The film was not in competition but was shown late at night to a packed, relaxing audience in a large cinema. It was a riot. Every music number was applauded, as if we were attending a hit stage musical. Laughter was in the force nine category of “gales of laughter”. Branagh, understandably, thanked the audience effusively for giving his effort such a good send off. A few weeks later, on a damp and cold Monday morning, I saw the film again with the London film critics, in a screening room in Soho. This time there was absolute silence. No derision, no particular
complaint – just silence.
Had I had to write about the film after my first viewing I suppose (or hope) that I might have picked up on some of the reservations I think I had felt but with an audience reaction such as I had observed still ringing in my ears, I would probably have written more positively than I did after I had seen it a second time.
To return to the idea of reporting: the first part of the job is to give your readers an idea of what sort of film you have seen and what it contains. This does not, of course, mean that you should include a plot summary. Plot summaries of films, plays and novels are almost invariably very tedious, since everything that has been put into the film by director and cast, designer and cameraman, is missing. Furthermore, some readers will not want to see the film if they think they know what happens. But it is often helpful to give some account of how the action begins. Similarly, when it comes to praising or criticizing those who make, or fail to make, the film good, it is best to avoid mentioning too many names, particularly when there is a large cast. This is partly a matter of length. You will see that for this presentation we have been asked to review the same film in 100 words and again in 400. 100 words allows for a bare minimum of information and comment. 400 gives more freedom – but only comparatively.
Sometimes a reviewer may have special knowledge of an area of life or subject matter covered by a film. It seems reasonable to make use of this but some restraint is required, especially when your knowledge outside of the film is connected with having read, studied or reviewed the book on which it is based. You have to ask yourself how interested your readers are likely to be in how familiar you are with a novel by Dickens or James or Solzhenitsyn or whoever, from which a film is drawn. Or, for that matter, how much they care about your historical knowledge (or lack of it) concerning, say, medieval France, or Jerusalem at the time of the crucifixion. The importance of these considerations will differ according to the nature of the original material and the seriousness of the film’s intentions. But your first responsibility is to review a film. In some cases, as with Brassed Off, the field of special knowledge is comparatively esoteric and I felt that my remarks about the authenticity of the scenes in the bandroom and such matters were relevant. But if you find yourself feeling that, say, a favourite novel of yours has been greatly misrepresented by a screen version, you should, as a reporter of your own sense of what has been done, mention it in a very few words, then move on to look at what is actually in the film. A film based on a novel is necessarily a separate work of art and has to be judged on those terms.
There remains one responsibility that a reviewer owes to chis readers and editor: what is written must be lively and interesting enough for readers to stay with it to the end. Otherwise you have wasted your time and theirs.
BIOGRAPHY
Born 1941, in New Zealand, and educated at Victoria University of Wellington. In 1959 won the Lincoln Memorial Essay award organised by the American Information Service. Taught History, English and Drama in secondary/grammar schools in New Zealand and England before becoming a freelance writer in the early Eighties. Directed theatrical productions ranging from Offenbach to Shakespeare.
Contributed essays on Film and Thelogy to Cinéma Divinité (SCM Press, 2005) and to Through a Catholic lens (ed. Peter Malone, Sheed & Ward 2007). Has contributed to: The Times, The Times Literary Supplement, The Guardian, The Charleston Magazine, The Tablet, The War Cry, The Christian Century, The Church Times, The Jewish Chronicle, Winds, Brass Bulletin and The British Bandsman. Was Film Critic of The Tablet for eight years and served on film festival juries in Berlin, Venice and Setubal, Portugal.
Has lectured at St Deiniol’s Library (The Gladstone Memorial Library) on cinematic topics and on Gladstone himself. He became a Fellow of St Deiniol’s Library in 2008.
Also lectured also at the Graham Greene Festival in Berkhamstead, 2003-05. His Ways of Affirmation and Ways of Escape: Graham Greene in Mexico and the Congo, has been published as an occasional paper by the Graham Greene Birthplace Trust Has published verse in Ambit, The Spectator and elsewhere. His book on the political history of the Abbey of Monte Cassino is being considered for publication.
