Darkest Hour: A shining achievement

Darkest Hour (2017) • View trailer 
4.5 stars. Rated PG-13, for dramatic intensity and war sequences
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 12.29.17

Even knowing the outcome, thanks to the obvious historical record and ongoing pop culture reminders, director Joe Wright and scripter Anthony McCarten maintain a remarkable level of stomach-clenching suspense during every moment of this enthralling drama.

As Elizabeth Layton (Lily James) pauses attentively, Winston Churchill (Gary Oldman)
parses words in order to place the desired emphasis on what will be one of the most
important speeches of his career.

Scene by scene, amid political clashes and confrontations, we endure palpable panic: Are our memories faulty? Will it all go wrong?

No, of course not. But the total, we-are-there immersion is quite impressive.

Darkest Hour takes place during a tempestuous several weeks in the spring of 1940: from May 10, when 65-year-old, hard-drinking Winston Churchill is named to replace Neville Chamberlain as the British Prime Minister; to June 4, in the aftermath of the Dunkirk miracle that gave additional weight to Churchill’s “We shall fight on the beaches” speech in the House of Commons.

Fans of this period in British history are enjoying an embarrassment of riches; we’ve now experienced these events from strikingly different points of view, thanks to summer’s Dunkirk, television’s The Crown and now Wright’s Darkest Hour.

As depicted by McCarten — a double Oscar nominee, as scripter and producer of 2014’s The Theory of Everything — Churchill’s rise to that galvanic speech was anything but assured, and Chamberlain was far from disgraced and impotent, after being shunted aside. He and Viscount Halifax (née Edward Frederick Lindley Wood) remained relentless in their quest for appeasement by offering a treaty to Hitler, even as — particularly as — Western Europe’s countries fell, like a row of dominoes, against the Nazi assault.

And Chamberlain’s influence was considerable, as he still controlled the Conservative half of the House of Commons, all of the members fully prepared — in blinkered, knee-jerk fashion — to vote party over conscience, thereby stripping Churchill of his new position. (And boy, doesn’t that resonate these days, on this side of the pond!)

The political infighting is both fascinating and horrifying, but the film’s true power comes from Gary Oldman’s sublime portrayal of Churchill: one of those rare performances that is so thorough, so all-consuming, that it ceases to be acting. As far as I’m concerned, Wright and McCarten somehow found the means to resurrect Churchill, so he could star in his own story.

Oldman’s impersonation is beyond extraordinary: from the corpulent frame; to the waspish temper so much at odds with the era’s tweedy British lisp; to the impatient mumbling while dictating, as he frets over the precise wording of each speech; to — most crucially — the piercing gaze that could drill holes through steel. At the same time, McCarten’s script allows Churchill plenty of snarky asides and pointed slow burns, all delivered via Oldman’s impeccable timing.

It is, without question, the transformative performance of the year.

McCarten builds the film around three speeches that Churchill delivered between May 10 and June 4, and three of his closest relationships: with Clementine (Kristin Scott Thomas), his wife of 31 years; with his newly hired, steadfastly loyal secretary, Elizabeth Layton (Lily James); and with King George VI (Ben Mendelsohn).

(Although McCarten drew from Layton’s memoirs while fashioning this character and her intimate, ringside presence at Churchill’s side, liberties were taken with the time frame; she didn’t actually become Churchill’s secretary until 1941.)

So: sharp, intelligent scripting and enthralling performances. They’re matched by Valerio Bonelli’s deft editing and the bravura visual pizzazz that have been Wright’s signature since 2005’s Pride & Prejudice and 2007’s Atonement: the long tracking shots that weave in, out, and through walls; the overhead panoramas from impossible heights; the tightly focused close-ups that occupy only the center of an otherwise wholly darkened screen.

These and many more of cinematographer Bruno Delbonnel’s imaginatively framed and staged sequences can’t help calling attention to themselves, but they never pull us out of the narrative; indeed, they enhance the drama, particularly during moments of distress and crisis. One slow pan is particularly breathtaking, revealing the overhead bombardment of French countryside by Nazi warplanes, the tableau unexpectedly morphing into a tight close-up of cheek and the dead, staring eyes of a victim on the ground. Utterly chilling.

For that matter, newsreel clips of Hitler’s forces also never lose their power to horrify.

McCarten’s major narrative fabrication is that Layton begins her job just as Churchill is named prime minister. James, still well remembered as Downton Abbey’s Lady Rose MacClare, plays her as intimidated, cowed and even terrified by this initial encounter. But her impulse to quit on the spot is set aside by destiny’s call; it’s a fleeting moment, but we see the change in James’ eyes, as she returns to accept her place in what quickly becomes an historic turning point.

She becomes our “accessible” conduit to Churchill: the civilian companion who humanizes him for us, by being present at times both dire and amusing (as with his tendency to stride through his home starkers, or clad in a barely concealing robe).

Layton also is quite intelligent, and wholly aware of implications concealed within the telegrams, letters and documents she types. James’ best scene with Oldman comes when Churchill gravely dictates the telegram that will seal the fate of the small British garrison holed up at France’s Calais Citadel: doing its best, during three critical days, to distract the Germans from the unfolding crisis at Dunkirk.

Scott Thomas is delightful as the pragmatic and wholly devoted Clementine. She pays no mind to her husband’s tirades; she has seen and heard it all, and he long ago ceased to ruffle her feathers. Scott Thomas makes clear that Clementine can give as good as she gets, her own imperious tone used only when necessary, with an immediately calming effect.

It’s an endearing portrait of a long-married couple wholly accustomed to each other’s strengths and weaknesses.

Mendelsohn’s portrayal of King George VI is equally fascinating, at a much calmer level. Although technically not in a position to influence such things, the king clearly doesn’t like the initial decision to appoint Churchill, who still is held responsible for earlier military blunders such as the World War I disaster at Gallipoli. But Mendelsohn layers the king’s regal formality with a touch of ambiguity that grows during the weekly Monday lunch meetings that the two men share: marvelously subtle scenes that depict a growing bond.

The most tensely dramatic sequences take place in the underground War Room, where McCarten takes much of his dialog directly from the various meetings’ minutes, and where Churchill’s gut hatred and mistrust of Hitler are under constant assault by Chamberlain (Ronald Pickup) and Halifax (Stephen Dillane). The former is depicted as an obliviously stubborn aristocrat who nonetheless wields great influence; the latter as a reptilian political creature who, we can’t help feeling, cares more for his potential future, than that of his country.

It’s not really fair to suggest that Halifax is the villain of this piece — all points of view definitely need airing — but Dillane certainly plays him that way.

Sarah Greenwood’s production design is meticulous and thoroughly period, placing us inside the cavernous War Room facilities, Churchill’s home, and even a London Underground train: the latter at a climactic moment that has the artifice of Capra-esque fantasy, but which succeeds because Wright and McCarten have, by this point, built up so much narrative good will.

Dario Marianelli’s orchestral underscore superbly complements the drama; Jacqueline Durran’s costume design is impeccable.

Although obviously a drama, the carefully crafted atmosphere of authenticity frequently makes this film feel like a documentary. It is, without question, a cinematic document for the ages.