Four stars. Rated R, and quite stupidly, for occasional sexual candor and brief profanity
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 10.10.14
British filmmakers excel at their
signature blend of whimsy, gentle drama, sharp social commentary and
(sometimes) misfit romance.
Wrap it around a slice of actual
history, and the result can be irresistible.
 |
| Mineworkers rep Dai (Paddy Considine, second from right) sympathetically explains the difficulties inherent in a proposal presented by, from left, Jeff (Freddie Fox), Mark (Ben Schnetzer), Steph (Faye Marsay), Mike (Joseph Gilgun) and Joe (George MacKay). Potential discomfort aside, though, Mark and the rest aren't about to let conservative concerns get in the way of a great idea. |
Examples that leap to mind include Calendar Girls, Brassed Off, Kinky Boots, Made in Dagenham and, perhaps
the most successful, Billy Elliot. Not yet released on these shores is One
Chance; meanwhile, we can enjoy the sweet, charming and frequently funny Pride.
Director Matthew Warchus and
first-time scripter Stephen Beresford have set their dramedy against the
debilitating 1984 UK mineworkers strike, which pitted stubborn and increasingly
desperate blue-collar workers — and their families — against a resolutely
defiant Margaret Thatcher. That this grim scenario yielded an unlikely social
miracle, back in the day, is surprise enough; better still is the clever,
engaging and joyously triumphant manner in which Warchus and Beresford have
turned it into a droll, feel-good film.
The action begins as the shy and
soft-spoken Joe (George MacKay), 20 years old and deeply closeted, travels from
his suburban Bromley home in order to witness a Gay Pride march in London. He
can’t help getting swept up by events; before he knows it, he has become part
of a small but rowdy cluster of activists who meet regularly at a Soho
bookstore run by the wildly flamboyant Jonathan Blake (Dominic West) and his
quieter Welsh partner, Gethin (Andrew Scott).
The group is led, more or less,
by the charismatic Mark Ashton (Ben Schnetzer), a hard-charging agitator
forever seeking a new means of getting their message across. His newest scheme
is purely altruistic: Inspired by newspaper headlines that continue to vilify
the striking mineworkers, Mark points out that — sexual orientation aside —
their plights are quite similar. Gays know what it’s like to be misunderstood,
hated and harassed by jeering figures of authority (i.e. cops).
Why not strike a blow for
solidarity, then, by raising funds to help the strikers?
The resulting grass-roots
organization — Lesbians and Gays Support the Miners (LGSM) — faces an uphill
struggle, first from friends and peers who believe it far more important to
raise money for gay rights. But the fledging group persists, only to encounter
a bigger problem: No official mineworkers entity wants anything to do with
them, regardless of the offered money in hand.
Refusing to be beaten, Mark and
his gang bypass union bureaucracy and randomly select the small Welsh mining
town of Onllwyn, in the Dulais Valley. They liaise with Dai (Paddy Considine),
an uncertain but open-minded resident and local mineworkers rep who agrees to
visit London and face the dubious, mildly hostile audience in a gay nightclub.
To everybody’s surprise, Dai’s
heartfelt gratitude encourages the crowd, particularly when he mentions that
their union symbol — two hands clasped in solidarity — does, indeed, refer to all willing comrades.
The fundraising efforts take off,
at which point the truly daunting task must be faced: a personal visit by the
core LGSM members to Onllwyn. The prospect is intimidating at best, truly
terrifying at worst ... because, traditionally, deeply conservative working
communities are the first to loathe, distrust and even attack big-city “sexual
deviants” who are perceived as arrogant and hostile to values cherished by
church-going families.
And with the gaudy and
unapologetically outspoken Jonathan present, disaster seems guaranteed.
From our vantage point, though,
this potential culture clash couldn’t be more promising.
Although the story is driven by
this core plotline, our attention is drawn just as much to the many intimate
character arcs. First and foremost is Joe, dubbed “Bromley” by his new friends,
who continues to hide his activities from strict parents who, he’s certain,
wouldn’t understand. Schnetzer nails the dazed and even amazed eagerness of
this young man, who likely never expected to find companionship and acceptance
among so many new comrades ... even if they do tease him mercilessly.
Scott, best known as the maniacal
Moriarty to Benedict Cumberbatch’s Sherlock Holmes, moves in an entirely
different direction with his heartbreaking handling of Gethin, who hasn’t
visited his native Wales since a long-ago estrangement with his own
strait-laced mother. Joe may be shy and withdrawn, but Gethin is emotionally
beaten: absolutely unable to confront his past, and kept going mostly by
constant encouragement from the jovial Jonathan.
West, for his part, is a force of
nature as Jonathon: an unabashed, gay send-up of John Travolta’s character from
Saturday Night Fever, dumped into the
last little town in which one would expect to find such an individual. And his
dance moves are sensational.
Then there’s the punked-out Steph
(Faye Marsay), initially the sole woman holding up the “L” in their merry
little band. Marsay makes Steph shameless, tart-tongued and just a little bit
lonely: a reflexive flirt seeking love, but willing to settle for becoming
Joe’s new best friend.
Then, too, we wonder if the
brash, outspoken Mark can settle down long enough to acknowledge the obvious
interest from Mike (Joseph Gilgun), LGSM’s less spontaneous and more
detail-oriented voice of calm.
Once the scene shifts to Onllwyn,
we also meet Cliff (the always dependable Bill Nighy), a reserved fellow whose
brother perished in a mining accident years earlier, leaving a deeply
embittered widow — Lisa Palfrey, as Maureen — who functions as the
ultra-conservative villain of this piece. The feisty Hefina (Imelda Staunton)
is more pragmatic, while down-to-earth Siân James (Jessica Gunning) is completely
accepting ... even if her husband, Martin (Rhodri Meilir), has his doubts.
Nighy and Staunton are longtime
cinematic pros who, between them, seem to pop up in every other film made in
Britain: consummate character actors who never fail to deliver thoroughly
delightful performances. Considine is similarly strong, as the small-town
spokesman who understands the potential problems involved with this improbable
alliance, but grits his teeth and hopes for the best.
Many of these various characters,
and the interpersonal dynamics linking or distancing them, are fabrications of
Beresford’s imagination: carefully composed archetypes designed to propel a
storyline set against these fact-based events. But quite a few are authentic:
Mark Ashton, Jonathan Blake and Siân James are real people who, along with
LGSM, played a defining role in the mineworkers strike.
(Want to be amazed? Check out
Blake’s startling status as one of England’s early gay activists, and as the
first patient at Middlesex Hospital to be diagnosed HIV-positive ... all the
way back in October 1982. And he’s still with us.)
The newspaper headlines
reproduced for this film also are authentic, reflecting the degree to which
Thatcher had Rupert Murdoch and similarly powerful — and shamefully biased —
press barons in her pocket. And, yes, there really was a “Pits and Perverts”
benefit, held in London’s Electric Ballroom in December 1984, which came about
for the reasons depicted here.
It really is an amazing story:
absolutely a paradigm to be championed as proof that even the most unlikely
allies can find common ground. (Are you listening, U.S. Congress?)
Historical echoes aside, our
primary concern is that Pride is a
touching and deftly constructed misfit/underdog saga. Warchus and Beresford have
done a grand job, and their film definitely belongs in the company of all the
aforementioned Brimsy entries.
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