Film hints at Busby’s enduring grief over Munich
Fascinating new documentary highlights special bond manager had with his players and fans, writes
All religions need their creation myth, and the cult of the modern Manchester United is indivisible from the life and work of the man who began managing them after the Second World War and carried on until the end of the 1960s, before a short-lived return at the start of the next decade.
The high epic part of that astonishing span, of course, is the sequence of the Busby Babes-municheuropean Cup and a new feature film out this week, Busby, focuses on those years.
The notion of youth’s gilded and seemingly frictionless progress, a terrible tragedy, rebirth and eventual glory is the sort of story arc they teach on day one of screenwriting school, and the makers of this film – whose cinema premiere is today – see no reason to reinvent the wheel.
Something of an open goal in narrative terms, the Busby story is nevertheless tucked away with aplomb by director Joe Pearlman and production company Fulwell 73, which made the Sunderland ’Til I Die series and The Class Of ’92. Fulwell is becoming a byword for excellence in football documentary programming (and beyond; the company also did the well-received pop piece Bros: After The Screaming Stops) and it would have been a surprise if this were not a polished, expertly curated retrospective.
I dare say that most football fans will be familiar with the set text of the Busby legend: the Bellshill collier who came to Manchester to play for City, and then for Liverpool, before taking up the manager’s job at United and assembling the Duncan Edwards team so cruelly destroyed in the air disaster. Some stories simply do not lose their emotional wallop, though, and there is some powerful, lesser-seen footage of Sir Matt in the aftermath, physically and mentally devastated.
Interviews with the surviving great players of the era hint, rather than state in a way that would not have been the ticket for a man of Busby’s vintage and character, that he never got over it. And there is of course George Best, the journey into the European competition, late-round disappointments, then finally 1968 and all that.
What the film lacks, perhaps, is the dissenting voice. Busby is imposing, grand, noble and inspires devotion. I wonder if he had any failings – as humans tend to – but if he did, they are not covered. I am not suggesting that it would be what the “Super Manchester Reds” faithful want in a festive season DVD alongside a Jesper Blomqvist Official Partner Spice Rack TM, but Sir Matt’s anointing of Wilf Mcguinness before returning himself briefly as a caretaker could also be the stuff of drama, conflict and insight, not least because of its parallels with another granite-tough west of Scotland knight and a bungled succession.
One other aspect I found intriguing was the assertion that Busby had effectively invented the role of football manager as it became understood in Britain: the gaffer, the boss, the man with his bum in the bacon slicer, overseeing all aspects from player recruitment to contracts to training and selection and, in Busby’s day, even major input into the business side. United and clubs of that rank have gradually come to realise this is too much for one individual, with authority devolved and roles split into director of football, first-team coach, etc.
Doubtless the 1950s were a simpler time in terms of player power and off-field challenges that, say, Ole Gunnar Solskjaer faces that Busby did not, and who knows how he would have handled today’s football world? This is a film about an icon as much as a person, but as a piece of mythology, it certainly enriches the folklore.
“Busby” premieres today in Manchester, on digital download this week and DVD next week.