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.
Truly, I think the Brits
invented, perfected and patented a wholly unique genre: one that deserves its
own name. I vote for Brimsy.
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.
