SORRY, NO CIGAR
Biopic of Britain’s greatest-ever leader is a dishonest and dreary affair
IT’S a pivotal moment in British history. But with a crushing victory in sight, the prime minister begins to fall apart.
Racked with self-doubt, the dithering Tory can’t summon the energy to land the killer blow.
Now, the prospect of a decisive victory in Europe is slipping from the nation’s grasp.
It should be impossible to make any comparison between the plight of our current PM and the wartime heroics of Winston Churchill.
But Aussie screenwriter Alex von Tunzelmann isn’t too concerned with historical accuracy. As entertainment also seems pretty low on her list of priorities, I do wonder what possessed her to knock out this dishonest and very dreary biopic.
It’s June 1944, and Brian Cox’s Churchill isn’t strong and definitely isn’t stable. We meet him as he is stumbling along a beach and experiencing a terrifying vision.
The sea turns blood red and he hears gunfire. Winston is suffering a flashback to Gallipoli, the disastrous campaign he orchestrated during the First World War.
“I mustn’t let it happen again,” he croaks. With the Normandy landings days away, the PM is about to perform the mother of all U-turns.
This opening sequence is about as subtle as a V2 rocket. It’s also complete and utter nonsense. Churchill did indeed suffer from crippling bouts of depression and he did have misgivings about an amphibious landing in north-western France.
But he expressed those fears in 1942 and 1943. When the Allies were gearing up for the assault on Normandy, Churchill wasn’t just on side, he was one of its architects.
I know screenwriters have always tinkered with history, but it’s usually for a higher purpose.
This intervention adds neither drama nor insight. It just turns a fascinating historical figure into a decrepit, incompetent old bore.
For the next 90 minutes we have to watch him fall asleep at his desk, bawl at his underlings and whinge at his advisor (Richard Durden).
After trying to dissuade the King (James Purefoy) and strong-arm General Eisenhower (John Slattery), Montgomery (Julian Wadham) loses his rag, telling him he’s sick of his “dithering and treachery”.
That’s quite a charge to level at a national hero. But here it sounds like an understatement. After spending most of the film acting like a giant, cigar-chomping baby, he is finally talked round by his wife.
“Do you want me to coddle you Winston?” asks Clementine (Miranda Richardson) after hitting him with a few home truths.
Their testy exchanges are nicely written and convincing. If Cox had more scenes like this, Churchill would have at least boasted a gripping lead performance.
Sadly, the script doesn’t give him nearly enough to sink his teeth into.
I spent the first half rolling my eyes and the second half fighting to keep them open.