THE BOAT THAT ROCKED: a review of "Pirate Radio"

This was originally written November 15, 2009

“PIRATE RADIO” Written and Directed by Richard Curtis
*** (three stars)

Between the years of 1987-1991, I fulfilled a childhood fantasy by becoming a DJ on WLHA-FM, the then student radio station on the University of Wisconsin-Madison campus. The station was housed in the deep, dark bowels of the JF Friedrick Center, a now-defunct location which was primarily utilized as short-term housing for University Extension conference visitors. The station’s machinery was completely and utterly archaic. Essential knobs had gone missing as were a few ceiling tiles. The station contained an ever-present musty smell. Lighting was weak at best. We broadcasted with a booming watt and a half of power in MONO no less! And as many of you already know, I LOVED every single moment of it and I still miss it to this day. My very first radio show was presented on Friday mid-mornings and I was actually late to my debut transmission, as I didn’t realize we were broadcasting for the semester yet. I spent the remainder of my college years in a 10 p.m. - 1 a.m. time slot on Saturday nights—a time guaranteed for me to have an ocean’s worth of listeners. And again, I LOVED every minute of it. I loved being able to have absolute and complete creative control over which songs I could play, with the only stipulation being that I choose any three songs from the station’s play list of current albums (which were in fairly consistent rotation) an hour. Once I became the station’s Music Director in my Junior Year and finally Station Manager for my Senior Year, I had the opportunity to speak with record label representatives, distribute pertinent airplay information to the College Music Journal and of course, obtain ALL of the new albums. I guess what I loved most was that I had the pleasure of meeting a collective of students who otherwise may not have met each other if it was not for a shared love of music and having the opportunity to share that love with a listening audience. The camaraderie and communal spirit that existed among the DJs was precisely what I needed as an alternative to the school’s infamous (and endless) party reputation and it also fueled the fantasies I had growing up as I wanted to have an opportunity to look into the mythical world of the DJs I loved listening to. As I arrived at a screening of “Pirate Radio,” the new film from Writer/Director Richard Curtis, I had high hopes and was already rooting for it. Unfortunately, it was not an entirely successful film. While not entirely a failure either, “Pirate Radio” does indeed tap strongly into that communal spirit of a rag-tag band of DJs and the music they would willingly live and die for.

The year is 1966 and rock music has been completely banned by the British government from the radio. Enter the renegade pied pipers of the airwaves who broadcast rock and roll, in addition to a variety of aural pranks and hi jinks, illegally in the North Sea to the hungrily awaiting listeners on dry land. For this film, we set ourselves aboard the ship known as “Rock Radio,” via our audience surrogate, Young Carl (played engagingly by Tom Sturridge, who appears to look like Radiohead guitarist/composer Johnny Greenwood’s younger and even more underfed brother). Carl has arrived on board for his summer holiday and under the care of his godfather, the station manager Quentin (Bill Nighy). From here, we meet the collective of passionate and somewhat stir-crazy DJs who live on-board, work long on-air sifts and play-through either drink, weed, sexual exploits and anything else they can possibly think of-as they provide the soundtrack to the building counter-culture on shore. Determined to stop pirate radio at any cost is Sir Alistair Dormandy (Kenneth Branagh) who, of course, is of the opinion that all of this rock and roll rubbish will negatively impact society and must be snuffed out completely.

The film has no actual plot, so to speak, as it really is a series of vignettes on the boat as we watch the adventures of this collective of eccentrics and oddballs who are all led by The Count (Phillip Seymour Hoffman), an American expatriate who sees his mission to provide music to the masses with a near religious fervor. The style of the film is as ragged as a garage rock tune, which simultaneously feels very true and also a bit boring, as I did find myself shifting uncomfortably in my seat from time to time. I couldn’t help but to occasionally wonder just where was this film going and what the overall point of it was. Curtis, who wrote the excellent “Four Wedding and Funeral,” the fine ‘Notting Hill” and also wrote and directed the epic romantic comedy “Love Actually,” is no stranger to large casts and multiple storylines—a feat he has previously handled with deftness and skill. It seems as if the material just got away from him a bit this time as some sequences tend to drag, and other sections clash tonally, which ultimately undercut any building emotion and tension with the film as a whole.

Not only was this film over-stuffed, it was full of missed opportunities as well. The political story and cultural critique of the period that is so inherent within this material is not touched upon at all, therefore making the proceedings a shallow “Us Vs. Them” story of underdogs against the establishment. Characters come and go with no rhyme or reason (Emma Thompson is here in a “blink-and-you’ll-miss-it” performance). A subplot about the identity of Carl’s Father appears and re-appears as quickly as it is forgotten and discarded. And when the film seems to back itself into a storytelling corner, another song with accompanying montage is tossed into view. The film, at times, feels unsure of what it wants to accomplish and it shows.

Kenneth Branagh is the film’s weakest link. This is not due to his performance but most possibly in the writing as Dormandy, with his exaggerated uptight demeanor, prim and proper attire and vocally trilling “R”s, exists solely as a comic foil to the DJs. In fact, Branagh reminded me of Herbert Lom in Director Blake Edwards’ classic “Pink Panther” films as Inspector Clouseau’s long-suffering superior, Chief Inspector Dreyfus. Dormandy never feels like a serious threat and that lack of real political and suppressive tension downplays the passion of the DJs. All that was missing from this character as presented was a fiendish laugh and an evil twirling of his moustache as he continuously plots their downfall.

To be fair to Curtis, perhaps something went amiss during the film’s production or between the production and ultimate release as this film has undergone a title change (it was previously titled “The Boat That Rocked”) and it has also been reported that 25 minutes had been trimmed as well. But, I can only comment on what was on-screen and it was rough going.

Yet somehow, I found myself caring for this film and crew despite its problems in a number of scenes. The brief romance between one DJ and his American bride is touching in its heartbreak. Another romantic sequence featuring Carl and another sweet young arrival to the boat (and set to Smokey Robinson and The Miracles “Ooh Baby Baby”) is very charming. A dialogue-less moment featuring Carl, the station's two news reporters, one cup of tea and a small plate of biscuits is a wondrously delicate comedy of manners. Those aforementioned montage sections do work strongly to convey that communal spirit between DJ, music and listeners. How the gossamer threads of the airwaves connect us all in a series of moments purely designed to be a shared experienced. This is played out vibrantly in an extended climax, which places our radio crew into a life-threatening situation during which their fates rest in the hands of their devoted followings. The love of music and or connection to music is also depicted beautifully during this section, which is set to a Cat Stevens song. Through the vision of a drowning DJ, feverishly clinging onto the records that have influenced every fiber of his being, the ties between a person and music itself was deeply felt. Even an ending credits sequence of classic album covers from the last forty years is stirring, thrilling and just made my heart beat faster and louder.

The performances from the cast are uniformly excellent. They have an easy rapport with each other and genuine affection is felt. Phillip Seymour Hoffman easily embodies the spirit of radio, as his character of The Count could be a spiritual cousin to his Lester Bangs character from Cameron Crowe’s transcendent “Almost Famous.” He will literally go down with the ship for his music and listeners and when he even pledges that we will keep broadcasting until the day he dies and “even a few days after that,” you believe every word.

Undeniably, there is the music itself, presented as a wall-to-wall collage of classic rock, pop and soul much like in George Lucas’ groundbreaking “American Graffiti.” The music exists as a character, commenting on the action as well as providing it’s ever present beat and pulse. It never wears out its welcome and like radio in the best of times, and definitely from my past, it is there as a friend.

I honestly do not listen to the radio terribly much these days as the individual personalities of each station have been drained away due to corporate interference and greed. But, this film took me back to the time in my life when Larry Lujack and Tommy Edwards of Chicago’s WLS-AM woke me every day and prepared me for school and the same station’s John “Records” Landecker got me ready for bed each night. By middle school, Steve Dahl and Garry Meier were radio’s resident and ultimate bad boys and I relished every obscene and outrageous transgression. The smoky, seductive voice of The Loop’s Patti Haze was my guide into the classic rock that I will love for the rest of my life, the eternally cool Tom Joyner of WJPC provided me with much needed soul and grit and the entire crew of WXRT opened my horizons in ways I never thought possible. The film took me back to a time when “WKRP In Cincinnati” was a wish and my first day on the air was a nerve wracking and ecstatic experience.

It also took me back to a time just a few years ago when I was surprisingly invited to appear on the University campus’ new radio station WSUM-FM for a morning interview. Near the end of that interview, where the young DJs actually referred to me as “Sir,” (Ugh!!) I was asked if I could impart any advice for the students currently on-air or interested in becoming DJs. At last, I was solicited for my sage wisdom! Unfortunately, I really just had no idea of what to say and after a few moments of dreaded dead air, I finally expressed that all I could want for them and their friends was that they truly enjoy this time for it will not last. For they have the opportunity to make the experience of being a DJ exactly what they want for it to be and their collective on-air dreams can be completely individualized. When that spirit is conveyed, people will listen. It doesn’t have to be perfect. It just has to be real.

Despite its faults, “Pirate Radio” worked at it’s very best when it tapped into that feeling of providing something real. For everyone who made the choice to listen, to feel, to dream and to just be connected. And finally, for the “Rock Radio” DJs, who clung to that intense belief for dear life because just like the collegiate and public radio DJs of today, that beautiful time is slowly fading and I think we need them more than ever as they are our torchbearers of continued community in an increasingly isolated world.

Long may they live on our airwaves and may the proverbial needle never leave its groove. “Pirate Radio” is far from perfect but it is honestly and touchingly real.