Four stars. Rated PG-13, for occasional profanity
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 6.5.20
Director Peter Cattaneo makes adorable feel-good films that cleverly blend light, character-driven humor with social commentary that often pokes at the British class system.
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| Lisa (Sharon Horgan, left) can't quite believe it when, instead of just allowing their group to sing a song, Kate (Kristin Scott Thomas) insists on beginning with high-falutin' vocal exercises. |
He put himself on the map with 1997’s The Full Monty, and if his subsequent films didn’t live up to that big-screen debut — 2001’s Lucky Break and 2008’s The Rocker — it’s only because he set the bar so high the first time.
Well, Military Wives — available via Amazon Prime and other streaming platforms — hits all the markers that made Monty so entertaining. The cherry on top is that Rosanne Flynn and Rachel Tunnard’s script is inspired by deeply moving actual events: a poignant (and well-timed) reminder that people from disparate backgrounds can accomplish marvelous things when working together.
The setting is 2010, at England’s (fictitious) Flitcroft military base. (Production actually took place at North Yorkshire’s Catterick Garrison, the world’s largest British army base.) The ongoing war in Afghanistan has just entered the “surge” phase, with increasing numbers of Allied troops being deployed overseas; this includes many of the active-duty soldiers at Flitcroft.
Their wives and girlfriends, left behind on base, have limited options for distracting themselves from worst-case fears. Kate (Kristin Scott Thomas), wife of the company commander, decides to take a more active hand in gathering the women for group activities. By doing so, she steps on the toes of Lisa (Sharon Horgan), the base’s newly appointed Social Committee chair.
They’re a classic case of oil and water, destined never to mix. Kate is a condescending, high-minded aristocrat who throws her status around; Scott Thomas delivers just the right note of smug entitlement. The earthier, working-class Lisa has long enjoyed being “just one of the girls,” and she’s not about to let her new “promotion” get in the way of that.
Kate wants to organize productive, formally structured activities; Lisa — and the rest of the women — prefer informal morning coffee klatches and wine-fueled evenings.
A compromise, of sorts, emerges when somebody suggests starting a choir. Kate naturally seizes upon this as a means of exercising her conducting technique while running scales and vocal exercises, and teaching highbrow classical material: totally removed from the pop tunes with which Lisa and the others are familiar. They just want to sing.
But — and many of the interpersonal dynamics are shaped by this — Kate is the boss (even though, more accurately, she’s “merely” the actual boss’ wife). Most of the other women are cowed by her, or at least respect her position; they therefore hope that Lisa will convey their point of view.
And oh, boy; the latter seems an initially insurmountable barrier.
Cattaneo was resolute on the most important detail: These actresses all sing, without lip-synching. The group’s first effort at a song — the hymn “Morning Has Broken” — is a full-blown disaster, with nearly everybody off-key, incapable of following the beat, and sometimes only pretending to vocalize. This sequence is both funny and tragic, and we’re just as likely to cringe as chuckle.
Actually, our hearts break; the intent is sincere, but can it be trained?
As it typical of such stories, the characters are all over the map. Kate has already endured what the rest of the women fear the most; her inability to fully confront this tragedy — and move past it — significantly shapes her brittle personality. Lisa struggles to control her rebellious teenage daughter, Frankie (India Ria Amarteifio), who is following an ill-advised path.
Sarah (Amy James-Kelly) is a young newlywed, wholly out of her depth in such regimented and unfamiliar surroundings. Ruby (Lara Rossi), the base hairstylist, is the group’s most enthusiastic singer; alas, she’s tone-deaf and absolutely unable to follow a melody. Maz (Laura Checkley), an outspoken, working-class soccer fan, is one of the few willing to stand up to Kate.
Then there’s always the sweet surprise: one shy, unexpected ringer blessed with an incredible voice.
Jason Flemyng has a droll part as Crooks, the senior base officers who supervises these activities from a cautious distance, initially retreating within headphones to drown out caterwauling that Lisa — attempting levity — brands “the incantations of a bunch of witches.”
The story’s best, most heartwarming element is the group dynamic that Flynn and Tunnard sketch so authentically. Although united by the anxiety of having their partners so far away, under such dangerous circumstances, they’re wholly dissimilar in almost every other respect. Generosity of spirit doesn’t always eliminate sniping, defensive posturing or unexpected lapses into despair.
The key dramatic arc belongs to Scott Thomas and Horgan, as we wonder whether Kate and Lisa can overcome their mutual antagonism. The latter is game; Horgan gives her a retro rocker vibe and an earnest sincerity that never wholly conceals the fact that, on the home front, she’s just as overwhelmed as Kate.
But every time we think the thaw is coming, Kate unleashes yet another spiteful, judgmental remark (and we groan). The subtlety of Scott Thomas’ performance comes roughly midway, when each fresh transgression is followed by a fleeting grimace of personal distaste; Kate realizes that she has crossed the line again. (Which, I guess, is progress.)
The selected songs, as the group progresses, are an intriguing mix of 1980s megahits: Cyndi Lauper’s “Time After Time,” Tears for Fears’ “Shout,” Yazoo’s “Only Your” and The Human League’s “Don't You Want Me.”
For the most part, Cattaneo avoids power anthems; he clearly didn’t want the heightened-reality approach of TV’s Glee. These are just regular folks: the ones who stand next to you during a church service, and proudly — loudly — sing off-key.
Although these are all fictitious characters, the bonus emotional surge arrives as an epilog, when we learn that the actual Catterick Garrison choir — founded in 2010 and granted worldwide exposure the following year, when profiled on Gareth Malone’s popular TV series The Choir — has blossomed into a registered charity of 75 (!) choirs in British military bases across the UK and overseas, consisting of 2,300 people with military connections.
You simply can’t ask for a better, more satisfying — and poignant — glow, as the screen fades to black.
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