Walking on Sunshine

Anyone who knows me will know that I have a bit of a thing for Mamma Mia!. Then again, who can possibly resist the tidal wave of Abba cheese which sweeps over you as Meryl Streep blasts out “The Winner Takes It All” atop some hilltop on a Greek island and the likes of Colin Firth and Julie Walters throw themselves whole-heartedly into camp dance routines. Even – and here's where the true genius of Abba's songs lie – even Pierce Brosnan's fog-horn attempts at singing “SOS” can't disrupt the joy. Mamma Mia! is so astronomically, staggeringly bad that it comes full circle and becomes, paradoxically, brilliant. And so, when I first saw a trailer for Walking on Sunshine, a musical with hit songs from the 1980s, I thought it would be the new Mamma Mia! (just with bigger hair). It's not.

Let's begin with the plot – a good a place to start as any. Set in a coastal town in present day Italy, Walking on Sunshine opens with Taylor (played by Gemma Arterton's older sister, Hannah) ending a whirlwind holiday romance with the dashing Raf (Giulio Berruti). She's about to start university and, you know, can't possibly begin a relationship. Fast forward three years and Taylor has graduated and returns to Italy for her sister's wedding. And guess who the lucky guy is?! The same guy who Taylor had a fling with all those years ago! Crazy. Do Taylor and Raf tell her sister Maddie (Annabel Scholey), or should they keep quiet and hope she doesn't find out? There, in a nutshell, is the plot which, at times, runs rather close to that of Mamma Mia! (sorry, I'll stop mentioning it).

One of the first scenes sees Taylor arrive at the airport and the passport man asks her: “business or holiday?”. And then, because it's a musical and people do this sort of thing, she launches into Madonna's “Holiday”, complete with stupid dance routines and from then on, we know we're stuck in this musical hell. The songs don't get much better when the ensemble cast join in. Leona Lewis makes her film début and, although the girl sure can sing, her acting leaves less to be desired. In fact, you know what, the whole cast looks like they had a ball filming the movie: always a sign that the audience will definitely be having less fun!

To be fair to the cast, they do have plenty of energy but the singing is auto-tuned to within an inch of its pathetic life. We're treated/subjected to vacuous renditions of classics such as “Eternal Flame” and “If I Could Turn Back Time”. More generally, the songs (of which there are far too many) share no common theme or thread, aside from the decade of their release and the plot lists from one to another as a drunken man does when bothering people for loose change.

Greg Wise plays Doug, Maddie's ex who attempts to win her back by, basically, stalking her. In any other film, he would have been arrested for sexual harassment. The comedy – or lack of – is another problem. Some really rather crude jokes seem rather out of place from the saccharine schmaltz and predictable dialogue which characterises the film. The narrative's twists and turns are inexplicable, drawn-out and really rather dull and offer no satisfaction at their resolution. Yes, I get that this isn't going to be Citizen Kane but...

The central problem with the film is that it takes itself far, far too seriously. The drama played out on screen is, quite frankly, ridiculous, the characters irritating and I sat there with a look of bewilderment on my face. In fact, things got so bad at one point that I was eyeing-up the pills which an old dear sat next to me had got out from her handbag. Something to dull the pain...or end it all: either would have been preferable to the utter tosh which was slowly draining the life force from me.

Walking on Sunshine is garish film-making by numbers. A limp script, heavily-produced musical numbers, uninspiring characters and terrible direction all mix together creating a lethal cocktail of cheese, sun and sickeningly perfect smiles. It was enough to make me run home and stick Mamma Mia! in the DVD player.

Clapperboard Reviews: *

Jimmy's Hall

Ken Loach is angry. The director in the social realist sub-genre, Loach recently claimed that film critics find the idea of a politically informed and free-thinking working-class as “abhorrent”. His latest – and, if initial rumours were to believed, his last – film Jimmy's Hall, features many scenes of a rural Irish community discussing politics, freedom and religion in 1930s Ireland. Quite why Mr Loach believes all critics view such scenes as “fantasy” is rather perplexing and a little bemusing. However, what is clear is that Jimmy's Hall is packed full of political statements and ideology. It's a shame, then, that none of it really sticks.

Set in rural Ireland during the “Red Scare” of the 1930s which saw a wave of concern sweep the establishment about communist activity, Jimmy's Hall is inspired by the real life political activist Jimmy Gralton, who was deported from Ireland by authorities who were worried that he was stirring up trouble in County Leitrim. On arriving back from ten years in America, Jimmy returns to his home to find a dispirited and battered community, a result of the recent Irish Civil War. Jimmy takes it upon himself to re-open a community hall and hold dances and classes for the benefit of the locals. The local priest (played by Jim Norton) and other officials, however, object to Jimmy's actions and, in particular, his political views.

Now, the first thing to say about the film is that it wears its political opinions on its sleeve, which sometimes presents a problem. It is packed full with political opinions, debates and ideals and lacks a subtlety which would have made for a more multi-layered, deeper film. There's a sequence when Jimmy makes a rousing speech to the assembled community and shouts “we need to take control of our lives again!”. He references the stock market crash, the power of the elite and the inequality which is widespread. Loach may as well have held up a placard to the audience: “Note Parallels With Today After The Financial Crisis”. The whole film feels, in a way, a bit too axiomatic in its approach to its subject matter.

Barry Ward plays Jimmy with gusto and his relationship with old flame Oonagh (Simone Kirby) is convincing. The two stand-out performances, however, come from Jim Norton as the zealous Father Sheridan and Jimmy's mother, excellently played by Aileen Henry. The heartbreak of watching a mother lose her son for a second time was very affecting to watch and Henry's understated performance was fantastic. Norton's character, on the other hand, is rather ambiguous. He begins the film vehemently opposed to everything that Jimmy is and stands for and yet, by the end, is – if not sympathetic – rather more complimentary about certain aspects of Jimmy's character. It would have been nice had the film stuck to its guns and convictions when it came to the motivations of Father Sheridan but Norton, nonetheless, just about holds the whole thing together.

Jimmy's Hall is shot nicely, looks the part and has some great individual moments (especially musical scenes inside the hall) and is a pleasant watch. It screams Loach and screams its politics at the audience – not always a bad thing but a little nuance never goes amiss. 

Clapperboard Rating: * * * 

Grace of Monaco

Olivier Dahan, the director of Grace of Monaco, was adamant in an interview that his film about the post-Hollywood life of Grace Kelly was not a biopic. “I need to make films that resonate with me and my feelings”, he continued. “I would find it boring to have to depict facts only focusing on a character's story”. Heaven knows, then, what Grace of Monaco would have turned out like had he focused on the facts because, as it stands, the film is a bland, uninspiring and wholly misjudged affair.

Dahan's ill-fated quest to discover Grace Kelly in a more “personal” way begins with Alfred Hitchcock (played by Roger Ashton-Griffiths) visiting Princess Grace in her palace in Monaco, attempting to persuade her back in front of the camera for his upcoming film Marnie. But Grace is concerned that a move back to Hollywood, if only temporary, would spell disaster for her marriage to Prince Rainier III and for Monaco, embroiled in a diplomatic crisis with France. And so, the film sees Princess Grace attempt to reconcile herself with her potential roles in the world: those of film star, princess and mother.

In many ways, this had the potential to be an intriguing, dynamic character study, following one of the most famous actresses of all time as she made a radical transition from Hollywood to European monarchy. In reality, however, it seems as though screenwriter Arash Amel grew the script in his garden: it is unbelievably wooden and totally superficial. In fact, you could fashion a very nice side-table from the dialogue which is both toe-curling and uninspiring in equal measure. Nicole Kidman does look the part of Grace Kelly, floating around the palace in pretty frocks and occasionally butting in on matters of politics (much to her husband's annoyance). Each scene, however, is plagued by the appalling and lethargic screenplay which is the film's fundamental weakness.

Much of the plot is centred around the – frankly rather dull – minor diplomatic crisis in 1962, which saw France briefly blockade Monaco as Charles de Gaulle was angered by its reputation as a tax haven. Cue, then, dramatic shots of Grace marching up to the barbed wire, offering food to the French forces and tense scenes in the palace as she rushes down the corridors in search of a traitor in her husband's court, and a plethora of dodgy French accents, last heard coming from the mouth of Inspector Clouseau. The whole thing is laughable.

Tim Roth, in the role of her husband, seems to get through about five cigarettes per scene and lounges about the palace as if he's given up on the whole monarchy thing: quite why Grace married him is a mystery. Surely it can't have been for the countless dresses, hats and diamonds which make the film look like an extended Dior commercial. The camera certainly moves with a deferential and rather inert attitude towards its subject: Dahan seems so keen to get under the skin of Grace that his extreme close-ups threaten to become medical examinations of Kidman. Emotional turmoil must be in there somewhere!

In an attempt to secure favour with the people of Monaco, Grace seeks education on matters of etiquette, history and language from Derek Jacobi's Count Fernando D'Aillieres and confides in Father Francis Tucker for guidance. Frank Langella plays Father Tucker and seems to be the only cast member who can make the dialogue seem less hammy and more like a natural conversation, but even he can't lift the film from the depths of awfulness to which it plunged in the first fifteen minutes.

Both Kidman and Dahan have emphasised that Grace of Monaco is not an historical film or an accurate biopic of Kelly's life as a princess. But if it is not this, just what is it? There is no reason for its existence, no spark, no energy which could have made for a deep and telling film. In the end, the whole affair is poorly-constructed and staggering in its deference to characters that, surely, have an interesting story to tell. Kidman's performance is to be admired, if only for its sheer good-will. In the end, Grace of Monaco is a film so limp that not even Grace Kelly herself could have saved it.

Clapperboard Rating: *