Yet another excuse to snuggle down with some cosy wartime nostalgia, Their Finest is purportedly a tribute to women’s undervalued role in the British film industry. Unfortunately it comes over more blah than Blitz.
There have been plenty of films glamourising diamond geezers who live on the wrong side of the law. Some of them don’t even star Danny Dyer. In the history of British film, rhyming slang plus dodgy morals equals box office. Perhaps there is even a special source of European funding ring-fenced for low-budget films about cockney gangsters. The true story of the old lags who pulled off the biggest heist in burgling history was always destined to be dramatised. Someone probably tried to option it as soon as the news broke. The result is The Hatton Garden Job, directed by Ronnie Thompson.
A quick story recap. Two years ago four men broke into the underground vault of the Hatton Garden Safe Deposit Company and made off with diamonds and cash to the value of an estimated £14 million, possibly much more. It wasn’t just the scale of the job. It was also the fact that three of the robbers, who were caught within a month, were pensioners. Only one of them got away, a mysterious figure known only as “Basil” who has never been located let alone charged.
It’s from his fictionalised point of view that the narrative unfolds with generous dollops of knowing voiceover. Played by Matthew Goode with his usual blue-eyed swagger, he emerges from three years in prison fired up by a desire to pull off the big one, and sets about assembling his accomplices, who after statutory reluctance sign up. “Mental?” crows one. “It’s monumental.” In charge is a wheezing old con with a weak bladder called Brian Reader (Larry Lamb). Terry Perkins (David Calder), Danny Jones (Phil Daniels) and sozzled driver Kenny Collins (Clive Russell) make up the party. They set about planning - we are spared the months of meticulous gruntwork it actually required - and in due course alight on the Easter weekend to ill-get their gains. They call the quarry “tom”. “Tomfoolery, jewellery,” explains Goode. “The old timers love their word games.” At least someone does.
Thompson has managed to lure a cast who can relied upon to say the lines and not bump into the furniture, but his script somehow contrives to stumble into every British gangster cliché while syringing the last ounce of life out of every scene. The actors telecommunicate their own overpowering boredom through the lens. They break in to the accompaniment of an amazingly stillborn piece of noodly music on the soundtrack. When they start boring a hole through the wall of the safe deposit chamber, it can be taken as a visual metaphor. It takes almost literally forever. Even the sequence in which they amass their stash of cash and stones is extraordinarily dull. The prize for the most lurid performance goes to Joely Richardson (pictured above) as a Hungarian drug baroness with a cartoon Slavic accent who speaks even more slowly than everyone else. But she can be excused: the script gives her no room for manoeuvre.
It’s not quite a shame. There’s nothing redemptive in the story of some comedy codgers who were crafty enough to pull off the job but not enough to know how to fence their takings or evade capture. Collins even drove back to the scene of the crime in his own car, the plonker. Often in bank raid movies you find yourself rooting for the miscreants. Not here. On his voiceover Goode argues that his kind rob bankers not banks, as if that’s a good thing. From start to finish the whole project is dramatically and ethically bankrupt.
Overleaf: watch the trailer to The Hatton Garden Job
“What if I’ve made a terrible mistake?” Angie (a flirty, engaging Elizabeth Moss) is about to give birth to psychiatrist RD Laing’s baby, and you have to agree that it’s not the wisest plan. She’s confiding in one of the disturbed residents of Kingsley Hall, Laing’s experimental psychiatric community in east London where therapists and patients lived communally, anti-psychotic drugs and ECT were outlawed and LSD (and going to the pub) was part of the cure.
Ben Wheatley’s sixth film in a prolific, unpredictable career is a shoot-‘em-up in the most literal sense. Setting a superb international cast led by Brie Larson and Cillian Murphy down in a big, grim warehouse, he lets them blast bits off each other for 70 of Free Fire’s 90 minutes. After Wheatley’s most obviously ambitious film, his J.G.
The Cutlers are Pa Larkin's Darling Buds of May clan gone feral, rampaging across the Cotswolds. With Brendan Gleeson as patriarch Colby and Michael Fassbender as the troubled heir to his travellers’ caravan throne, the tone is country miles from David Jason’s bucolic idyll, which the Cutlers affront at every turn.
Gurinder Chadha is still best-known for directing a low-budget comedy set in Hounslow about two girls who just want to play football. Bend It Like Beckham (2002) introduced Keira Knightley and in 2015 became a stage musical that lured Asian audiences to the West End. While she also explored British Asian culture in Bride and Prejudice (2004) and It’s a Wonderful Afterlife (2010), in her new film she abandons light comedy to address the biggest and most decisive moment in Britain’s relationship with India.
Viceroy’s House is set in 1947 at the moment Lord Mountbatten arrived in Delhi to oversee the handover of India to its own people. Independence turned out to mean partitioning the country along religious lines, resulting in the migration of 14 million refugees across newly created borders. Among those migrants were Chadha’s paternal grandparents, who left their home in what became Pakistan. (The migration continued: in 1960 Chadha was born in Kenya and grew up in Southall, west London).
The film features the Mountbattens, played by Hugh Bonneville and Gillian Anderson, and the politicians arguing over the rights and wrongs of Partition. But it also dramatises the lives of the indigenous staff working in the eponymous palace, among them a young Muslim translator (Huma Qureshi) and a Hindu security guard (Manish Dayal) who fall in love across the religious divide. Viceroy’s House is a darker film than anything Chadha and her co-scriptwriter Paul Mayeda Burges have made before – lest we forget, she once directed Angus, Thongs and Perfect Snogging. It’s much more sumptuous to look at too. She tells theartsdesk what drew her to the material after avoiding it for many years.
JASPER REES: Why did you shun this story inspired by your family history for so long?
GURINDER CHADHA (pictured right on set with Om Puri): I just didn’t really have the courage. It’s a very sad part of my background. It was a very turbulent moment in our shared history, British and Indian, and there were a lot of people with very strong feelings about it and I just didn’t know if I could tell that story. It was only when I went to Pakistan for the first time to my ancestral town with Who Do You Think You Are? that I received such a warm welcome and really felt for the people who had moved into my grandfather’s house where my grandmother had left as a refugee in 1947. There were now five families who had moved in as refugees themselves. So I felt at that point that I really should do something on the Partition but from the people’s perspective.
A lot of people don’t know anything about this history - they don’t even know that Partition happened. I had to get a lot of information in in a way that would feel like proper storytelling. Then I got the idea to do it as an upstairs downstairs story – long before Downton Abbey happened. I wanted to tell the political story about Mountbatten negotiating with the leaders, but at the same time I wanted to see the effects of the decisions being taken upstairs on the ordinary people downstairs so I needed to build up the relationships with Mountbatten’s butler and valet and the translator and the chefs (see clip below).
The film is appearing at another moment of mass migration. Does that give the film extra impetus?
Absolutely. When we were shooting one of the refugee scenes I had 1,000 extras in a fort in Rajastan. That morning was the day the little Syrian boy’s body had been found washed up on a beach. We were at the height of the Syrian refugee crisis. Every day we’d see that on the news and on our phones but then go out and shoot refugees in the film.
And how it might land on a cinema-going audience?
We live at a time where people are trying to divide us instead of looking at real issues of unemployment and economic stability for ordinary working people. I think that what the film really does is provide a timely reminder of what can happen when you start scapegoating different groups and how quickly that can escalate into terrible violence and death. It can just happen overnight. And that’s what happened in 1947.
You have a fictional relationship at the heart of the film between a Muslim woman and Hindu man, and there’s a lot of dialogue between the Mountbattens and their Indian staff. Did you feel that, in order to animate the canvas, characters had to speak to one another in a way they possibly mightn’t have in reality?
Absolutely, I was looking for interactions between the upstairs and downstairs. I was looking for what would have been real. Mountbatten banging on about his medals and the order in which he liked to get dressed – all that is very real and based on interviews with people who were there at the time. And yes we did fictionalise the downstairs characters but in many ways they represented people out there at the time – Hindus, Muslims, Sikhs – who all had to make decisions about their future. Doing it through a love story was a very accessible way to show that (see clip below).
This is not a film about giving the British a bloody nose. Was that very deliberate?
This is a film 70 years later looking at the lessons we can learn from events and how the geopolitics at the time unfolded and how can we be aware of those sacrifices that people made then and make sure that we don’t walk into the same trap today. I think Britain is ready to go back and look at some of our shared British Asian history of the Raj but not from the point of giving a bloody nose but saying, this was a policy at the time, these were our interests, and these were Pakistanis’ interests and these were India’s interests. Fourteen million became refugees overnight. What are we doing today when those things can happen again? We’d better watch ourselves
Was it very deliberate that you went in Hugh Bonneville for an extremely likeable Mountbatten?
Yes because Mountbatten actually was likeable and very charming but not particularly astute as a politician, unlike his wife. I felt that Hugh conveys that. He’s very charming and you want to have a drink with him but do you want him to be ruling over your country? I don’t think so.
You’ve avoided any hint of an affair between Nehru and Edwina. Why? (Pictured above: Gillian Anderson and Tanveer Ghani)
I didn’t avoid it. I show them sitting quite intimately with looks towards each other. I show they’re very comfortable with each other’s company and that there is an intimacy there. What I didn’t choose to do was bang on about a relationship because I thought that took away from the story that was important to me, the political story but also the ordinary people. For me it was more important to tell the love story downstairs.
What did you carry away from David Lean’s A Passage to India and Richard Attenborough’s Gandhi and perhaps The Jewel in the Crown as well?
These are all films that were part of my education on the British Raj. Gandhi was a searingly important film for me. It was on an epic scale. It was a massive event for us as a community. The Jewel in the Crown of course did attempt to look at the role of the British in India in a different way. All these films have been part of my film education which is precisely why I wanted to set Viceroy’s House up as a sumptuous British Raj costume epic and then start subverting it by focusing on characters who might not have had the importance in other films. Having a foot in both communities I’m able to straddle both sides and hopefully tell you the story from a different perspective.
What would you have done in 1947 if you’d been in charge?
Oh my lord. Well I certainly would not have agreed with Mountbatten bringing the date forward. If I had been in charge I would have had more people on the ground listening to what was going on and planned for transition better. But ultimately, I probably would have kept it as one country but made sure that the Muslim minority felt protected.
Did you grandparents end up living in the UK?
No. After my grandfather had spent 18 months looking for my grandmother and the children, he then took them all to Kenya. They had businesses there and they used to go back and forth from India to Kenya. Later my grandfather built another big building in India which is still there but somehow I just don’t feel connected to it. Sadly I never met either of these grandparents and these are stories I was told through their children. I knew my maternal grandmother. She came to live with us, and she had lots of horror stories to tell of that time. I’m told by a friend of mine who is a psychic that my grandfather walks with me. He saw a picture of him and said, "He’s always there standing with you." That's a bit of a freaky comment but at the same time I do take comfort from it.
Overleaf: watch the trailer to Viceroy's House
A pale young girl – we see her blurred reflection in a window – is hanging out at a pizza joint. She follows a customer, Joe, a handsome young architect, out to his car, where he’s waiting for his order, and flirts with him, smoking and dancing beside the open window, asking him if he’s married. She's a teenage wastrel in her tiny shorts, ballet slippers and shiny jacket. Next thing – there’s no explicit sex on view – he’s paying for her services and heading home. But she’s taken note of his number-plate and we know there’s trouble ahead.
Cats on film. There are plenty of them. Elsewhere on the web you will find loads of listicles featuring top cats, boss pussies, big mogs, killer kitties, whiskers galore and other such. Cats get their biggest billing of all in the wonderful if anthropomorphic world of Walt Disney. It’s rare for a cat to be played by a cat in a film about a cat. Cat people will be purring, therefore, at A Street Cat Named Bob.
Fusing genres to come up with unique takes on familiar tropes can be risky. The unwieldy results may be an unappetising mess. Mother Riley Meets the Vampire, where Arthur Lucan and Bela Lugosi fought for space in an unfunny 1952 fusion of comedy and horror was dreadful. Then there was 1966’s unwatchable Ghost in the Invisible Bikini, which drew the line between beach movie froth and (once again) horror. With its gang of leather-clad undead, Psychomania (1973), recast the biker film. Unlike many horror syntheses, it was deadly serious.
Women in Love was Ken Russell’s first cinema film to directly reflect his work in television. He had directed The Billion Dollar Brain (1967), but that was an adaptation of a Len Deighton book. French Dressing (1964) was a few steps removed from a Carry On film. As an adaptation of the DH Lawrence novel, Women in Love (1969) tapped into the ethos of his work for the BBC and featured Oliver Reed, with whom he had worked in television.