The failure of Invictus and the problems of historical cinema.

Last week saw the release of Clint Eastwood’s latest film Invictus, an historical biopic of Nelson Mandela set against the backdrop of the 1995 rugby world cup, starring Morgan Freeman as the man himself with Matt Damon as springbok captain, Francois Pienaar. As this is not necessarily a review I’ll keep the background and plot points to a minimum as this can be found practically anywhere. What I do want to do is analyse the film and the issue of historical film in general. Essentially the film is a failure and here is why.

The biggest problem with Invictus is that it neither follows a convincing historical narrative nor presents itself as engaging drama. In order for it have some sort of historical credibility it needs to form some kind of argument. Its not that the film has any overt anachronisms as such; however it simply packages what the audience knows and perceives of the man and throws it back at them. After watching the film I feel no differently about Nelson Mandela or South African history than I did before, there is no in depth exploration of the social situation underlying the need to win the world cup and only basic ideas are flagged: Nelson Mandela had a hard time in prison, South Africa’s struggle with the legacy of apartheid etc but these ideas are not explored in sufficient detail to create some form of argument. Historical narratives work best when we know the outcomes, once we are not relying on unfolding drama, as an audience, we are able to explore the events which lead to the finale. The problem lies herein; the fact that South Africa won the Rugby world cup in 1995 is pretty much common knowledge and while not forwarding some form of historical narrative the film also fails dramatically because of this knowledge. The extended rugby scenes hold little tension and essentially seem to be a little self-indulgent. I don’t particularly have a problem with using history for dramatic purposes however the film sits in some form of pointless middle ground. For those who are aware of the events surrounding the 1995 world cup there is little historical exploration but there is also a concession for those who don’t. The film needed to consistently follow a historical or dramatic narrative and ended up following neither.


Clint Eastwood has always been a director who works with large brushstrokes and this black and white approach made Gran Torino an outstanding, compelling and enthralling drama. This approach doesn’t quite fit the mould with Invictus though, and coupled with the presumed ignorance to rugby for an international audience creates scenes where events are explained directly through the dialogue rather than being fully developed and suggestive. For instance, a scene where the Springboks are sent into poor townships to bring rugby to the black community should explore the issues involved with this. In reality though this just serves as a beginners guide to rugby for those who may be clueless. Furthermore, the events of the world cup are explained to Mandela and to the audience by the discussion of a wall chart placed within his office. It must be noted that I am not challenging the right of Clint Eastwood to make this film. There has much discussion over a Hollywood version of a South African story however the moment we enable a monopoly of representation on history is where self serving and teleological histories begin to occur. Clint Eastwood has every right to provide his interpretation of South African history; it just happens that he doesn’t do a particularly good job of it. When Invictus is looked at years to come it will hopefully tell us a great deal about the way in which Hollywood views the current world climate however we will need to wait for this interpretation to become fully apparent.

If Invictus isn’t a success, which films have tackled history more successfully? I would suggest Paul Greengrass has provided two of the more important historical documents in recent times with Bloody Sunday and United 93. Both these films helped to bring about some form of resolution to an aggrieved community by sufficiently providing historical explanation and honouring the memory of those involved in these events. These films are closer to successful documentaries than they are narrative films and this is what makes them so harrowing yet enthralling to view. Another successful recent example, and another representing the troubles in Northern Ireland, is Steve Mcqueen’s directorial debut Hunger. Examining the 1981 IRA hunger strikes, and in particular, Bobby sands, the film investigates Police Violence, the morality of hunger striking, and the causes and effects of these actions. It was certainly not IRA propaganda as some members of the press suggested and is one of the clearest historical films in recent years. If these three suggestions seem a little miserable then Frost/Nixon is the best recent film to use history for dramatic rather than historical purposes. Making no pretence to examine times gone by, the film is simply fantastic entertainment, playing out a battle of words as if it were the final bout of Rocky; a surprise given Ron Howard’s recent fondness for Dan Brown adaptations.

I have no issue with directors using history for dramatic purposes as long as that line is clearly defined. The biggest problem with Invicitus is its ineptitude in deciding what it wants to be. Too simplistic to provide good history and not remarkable enough to provide good drama it sits like a damp squib in the middle. Hopefully there will be better films made about Mandela’s presidency in the future, however for now we can sit back and applaud some of the more successful historical films of recent times.

By Sam

On the backward Legislation concerning Cannabis

Its strange isn't it? When something (look on www.talktofrank.com, even they stress the danger of being caught over the danger of use) so seemingly harmless can be utterly condemned by a government. Cannabis is a class B drug, meaning that even possession is a prisonable offence. Is that fair? Is Cannabis the gateway drug we're all lead to believe? Honestly I don't think it is.

Cannabis use is rife. Almost everybody knows someone who does it, and those few who do use it will certainly know someone who supplies it, or even grows it. People use cannabis because they enjoy it, and when someone enjoys something they will almost always find some way of getting what they want, illegal or not. Most of cannabis use happens behind close doors, due to it's illegality; and therefore it's effects are confined. Despite words to the contrary however, Cannabis is not without it's harmful effects, despite there being no recorded deaths, brain damage, resperatory problems and schizophrenia have all been linked to cannabis use. Although these problems pale into insignificance when compared to a substance considered socially acceptable: Alcohol.

The fact is, and this is widely accepted, that alcohol is a huge social problem. You can't escape it, go into town on a night out and the probability is that you will see some couple having a drunken argument on the pavement. Who says that argument won't get violent? Stranger things have happened. A huge amount of money (that of the tax payers) is spent on rehabilitating people who do not know their own limits when it comes to alcohol, and even more is spent on injuries inccured as a result of it. Much of the research into anti-social behaviour has pointed to the mis-use of alcohol, and government has finally stepped in. Stepped in it more like. Raising the drinking age to 21 is utterly ludicrous, what is that going to stop? Do they think that those directionless kids who drink it down the park got it legally? Or do they think that the shouty, white shirt wearing, silver bracletted, spikey haired morons who populate clubs, are not 21 already? It saddens me that a government can have such a misunderstanding of its own people.

The answer in my mind is simple. Not so simple to be without its problems, and if history has taught us anything, its that things written down can be entirely different when applied to the real world. But does it makes so little sense to restrict drinking to venues? Small pubs are losing business all over the country because of the supermarket and off-lincense wars to keep their alcohol prices low to meet customer demand, and as a result cheap alcohol is available everywhere, for anyone who wants it. Cut off this supply, either by restricting alcohol sale in supermarkets and off-licenses, or creating a situation where alcohol is much more expensive to buy for home use, and create an attitude to drinking that promotes sociality, discussion and friendliness, rather than one that, as in society in which we live, where alcohol abuse is promoted everywhere through deals on drinks and cheap alcohol.

With such a simple answer to a much more dangerous problem, would it be out of the realms of possibility to apply such a scheme to something like cannabis? If it were available in cafes, as in Amsterdam, or over the counter, the illegal supply would falter, not only would people have a different attitude to the drug, but drug dealers themselves would lose money, a substancial amount considering the use in Britain today. Confining things like alcohol and cannabis use to local venues, and creating an attitude of complacency to each substance to me sounds like a perfect situation. Theres a million reasons why it couldn't work, but no where near as many as why it could.

By Alastair

Sex & Drugs & Rock & Roll: Movie Review

Sex & Drugs & Rock & Roll follows in the now well established tradition of films like 24 Hour Party People (2002), even the recent biopic Bronson (2008), and takes a story of a well known British pop culture icon and sets out to tell the story of their life, whilst adding flights of fancy and fantastical scenes for artistic licence. This should not sound as derogatory as it does, and as Ian Dury (Andy Serkis) says in the film: “Don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story.”

That story follows Ian Dury, lead singer of British Punk-Rock band The Blockheads, through his early days in the 1970’s, and the rise and fall of his career in the 1980’s. The story pays particular attention to the fact that Dury suffered from the debilitating disease polio, which he contracted as a young boy; and the way in which this not only affected his career, but also his relationships, both with his wife, lovers, his band mates and his young son Baxter (Bill Milner). The film mixes live music (performed by Serkis himself), injected into the main meat of the drama that takes place in the film, the overarching theatricality of the film representing Dury’s own aesthetic; giving the movie the feel of an ethereal ode to a passed English eccentric, which in a way it is.

Serkis’ performance is beyond show stealing, he owns the film as he has owned others in the past: even when the man does not appear directly on screen, as with his role as Gollum in the Lord of the Rings Trilogy (2001-2003), he can create an aura of great infectious passion and intensity. My knowledge of The Blockheads and Dury himself was minimal before I saw this film, and I don’t think of myself as somewhat of an expert having experienced it: but the story, characters, music and look of the film are enjoyable enough to shake the sense that what you are seeing on screen is somewhat of a exercise in hero worship for the filmmakers. That said, Dury is no saint, and Serkis’ performance shows not only the great love that Dury had for his nearest and dearest, but also the fear, anguish and hatred he felt due to his disability, and the vaguely selfish nature of his career. The supporting cast are fabulous, in particular Milner as Dury’s impressionable son Baxter, and the film’s theatrical sideshow style suites Serkis’ performance exactly. The film’s visuals can be a little hard to swallow at times, but Sex & Drugs & Rock & Roll suffers little for it; shining as a little British gem in a month of big foreign releases.

By Alastair

Book Review: Mark Kermode- It's only a movie: reel life adventures of a film obsessive

Up until the age of around fifteen I was pretty much convinced that most films were a load of rubbish; before this, enjoyable cinematic adventures were few and far between. The arrival of Mark Kermode into my life heralded a change. previously me and friends rarely went to the cinema to go and see a particular film, rather we would venture around bored, finally deciding that the local multiplex was the only option. The final straw was watching Get rich or die tryin’; however this luckily coincided with me discovering Mark Kermode discussing movies with Simon Mayo every Friday afternoon. Leading me in the right direction, he showed me there was more out there than I had originally thought and perhaps more comfortingly, proved me right; all my friends had a terrible, terrible taste in films. Modern cinema wasn’t inherently bad; I just wasn’t looking in the right places. All this may seem irrelevant given I’m here to talk about Mark Kermode; it’s his taste in films which people are interested in, not mine. However I feel it necessary to foreground the importance this man has held for me in the past few years. (Sorry if that sounds a little creepy) It is in the context and listening to and relying on this mans opinion every week in which I read this book and probably will be the same for many others who choose to do the same.

Kermode cleverly avoids the conventions of standard autobiography and by appreciating the flawed conception of memory it allows him to open up, to elaborate without appearing self indulgent. The book is told through the narrative of The Mark Kermode Story, a movie in which Kermode is played by Jason Isaacs with a large and famous supporting cast. Through this he discusses his life as a film obsessive; charting his rise from avid film fan, through his many attempts and his eventual success as possibly the nations favourite film critic. From the early days sitting in the cinema watching films such as Slade in Fame and silent running we are told of more star studded encounters such as being present for the moment someone chooses to take fire at Werner Herzog and being confronted by Helen Mirren for his forthright opinions on The Queen. Kermode certainly knows the audience he is writing for and therefore it is somewhat disappointing that he recounts stories I have heard him endlessly talk about before. Despite his entertaining sardonic wit, the retelling of the stories adds little to what I knew already. The book treads on more interesting ground when we here of the unknown. Mark’s short venture onto American soil proves to be unexpected and entertaining while the certain highlight of this book is his Russian journey into the unknown. Brilliantly told, I became sympathetically angry while at the same time incredibly amused at the impenetrable Mr. Nyet.

For someone who professes to have a PhD in English, ‘It’s only a movie’ is a strikingly simple piece of work. However it’s also a successful one, Kermode knows his audience and he plays to them. Like many of the narrative films which he has evidently become so endowed with, this book accepts and takes part in a brand of mythological story telling. Although nothing new, ‘Its only a movie’ confirms why I became such a fan of the man in the first place. If lacking in striking originality, it makes up for it in simple entertainment. For those unaccustomed to his weekly radio ramblings there is little to offer; however Kermode certainly knows how to play to a crowd. Anecdotal, rather than analytical this is a memoir which although offers little subversion has high entertainment value. If anything, the familiarity of many of the incidents involved is part of my own undoing. Being slightly obsessed with this man’s opinion over the past few years has made it near impossible for me to miss these tales. Perhaps the greatest testament to the book is the way in which it left me reeling missed opportunities. Around a year ago I worked in a bar where the good doctor himself was in attendance. When I saw him at the bar I stated ‘are you being served’ with the reply being a simple ‘yes’. My attitude then was that although I was a fan why would he want to talk to me? Reading this book gave me a feeling of deep regret. Why didn’t I just run up and ask him about the exorcist?

By Sam