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| Associated Press/Focus features, Alex Bailey
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| Tom Sturridge (background left) and Rhys Ifans in “Pirate Radio.” |
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Melanie Munk, Features Editor
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Published: Friday, November 13, 2009
'Pirate Radio': Cutesy treatment ruins '60s rock tale
By Robert Horton Herald Movie Critic
Richard Curtis is the British pixie who wrote “Four Weddings and a Funeral” and “Love, Actually” and other comedies. With his new film, “Pirate Radio,” I have officially lost patience with him.
As a fan of “Four Weddings,” I take no joy in this. But “Pirate Radio” is a cutesy, baby-talk depiction of a real phenomenon, and as such it's even more bogus than the over-the-top schmaltz of “Love, Actually.”
The movie is fictional, but it overlaps with interesting pop-culture history: In the 1960s, in order to skirt restrictive broadcast policies, some swashbuckling media moguls were able to transmit their radio signals from boats off the coast of Great Britain.
Set in 1966 (though some of its songs are from later years), “Pirate Radio” tells the story of one such ship. We follow a young lad named Carl (Tom Sturridge) onto the raucous decks of a vessel floating in the North Sea, from which the banned-by-the-BBC sounds of the Kinks and the Who regularly emanate.
Radio Rock is run by Carl's godfather, a Carnaby Street fop (Bill Nighy in characteristic form), and staffed by a gang of adorable DJs.
Philip Seymour Hoffman, looking even sloppier than usual, plays the American in the group and the person most prone to flower-power statements about freedom and liberation, man.
Some funny people populate the large, male-dominated cast: “Shaun of the Dead” mainstay Nick Frost, for instance, and timid Chris O'Dowd. Velvet-clad Rhys Ifans, looking like he just stepped out of a Swinging London discotheque, is spot-on, although his supposed rivalry with Hoffman's character is mystifying and undeveloped.
The dopey sitcom humor of the shipboard sequences is occasionally punctuated by the nefarious efforts of a government minister to shut the broadcasts down. This character is played by Kenneth Branagh (wearing a mustache just slightly wider than Hitler's), whose delicious performance benefits from not having to participate in the feel-good cuddliness of the rest of the movie.
Curtis regular Emma Thompson contributes one expert scene, briefly interrupting the testosterone. Jack Davenport (from the “Pirates of the Caribbean” movies) scores nicely as Branagh's quaking underling.
And the music? But of course: a cascade of more than 50 vintage tunes. Richard Curtis has always relied heavily on the pop song, and his characters have a tendency to say things like, “In the words of the Bay City Rollers…” every few minutes.
The songs are chopped up and re-arranged to suit the situation, a common tendency in movies today, but nonetheless annoying — especially when you're reminding us every few seconds of how righteous these songs of rebellion are. How about just letting them play for a while?
“Pirate Radio”
Dopey fictional look at a real phenomenon: In the 1960s, when rock music wasn't played on the BBC, renegades set up floating radio stations off the English coast to broadcast the Kinks, the Who, etc. Director Richard Curtis is in his cuddly “Love, Actually” mode here, which makes for a very annoying film. Philip Seymour Hoffman, Bill Nighy lead the male-dominated cast.
Rated: R for language, nudity, subject matter
Showing: Alderwood Mall, Everett, Meridian, Metro, Oak Tree, Woodinville
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