There's a not at all contrived and unconvincing scene in Darkest Hour where Churchill, wracked with self-doubt and despondent at his War Cabinet's insistence on brokering peace terms with Nazi Germany, forfeits his chauffeur driven limousine for a trip on the London Underground. As old duffers in stiff collars and starched shirts prepare to compromise our nation's political liberty, Winston pools his fellow commuters for their views on peace with Herr Hitler. Naturally, the good men and women he speaks to doff their caps in class deference, utter gnomic, epigrammatical comments about freedom, and generally behave like the sort of salt-of-the-earth archetypes that play well in, say, Peoria or Peterborough. (He even shakes hands with a black man when he realises his dusky friend is conversant in the poetry of Thomas Babington Macaulay. What a guy!) With renewed vigour, Our Winnie heads to the House of Commons post-haste, makes his "We shall fight them on the beaches" speech and finally wins the approval of both cabinet and nation.
You probably know that this wholly fictional episode is intended to evoke Henry V, where Prince Hal wanders his camp incognito the night before Agincourt to ascertain his troops' feelings on the impending battle; but of course, whereas Shakespeare's depiction of ordinary people caught up in the machinations of kings, princes and territorial conflict is nuanced and emotionally effective, the Darkest Hour version trades in glib, jingoistic sentiment so lacking in self-awareness that it feels like a skit from The Comic Strip. If the scene had gone on any longer, there was a fair chance one of the ushers would've kicked me out the auditorium for causing a disturbance.
To be fair, though, it's a sequence that doesn't sit comfortably with anything else in the film (which, on the whole, is well-acted and directed with competence, if not exactly flair). The friend who recommended Darkest Hour to me said they suspected it was included for the American market, but I don't happen to believe that. If anything, it's attempting to speak directly to the British public about its indomitability in times of crisis. "Look!" it says in its own clumsy way, "This is you! You're in this film, too! And guess what? It's people like you who make a difference!"
Darkest Hour raises questions. Not whether it's going to clean up at the BAFTAs, or if Gary Oldman's finally going to win a Best Actor Oscar, but big questions: namely, why this particular story right now, and what's its purpose? Well, call me crazy if you like, you can even call me paranoid, but if the recent glut of Anglo-centric World War Two movies has taught us anything it's that Brexit parables are big business at the box office right now.
Don't believe me? How about the woeful Dad's Army remake, where a bunch of loveable British stereotypes take it upon themselves to guard our borders from the dastardly forces dominating mainland Europe? What of Dunkirk, which not only depicts an actual British retreat from Europe but elliptically states that if we're to compete with an autocratic foreign power we need better organisation at home?
From green light to premiere, the average turnover for a film is about two years. In some cases, as we all know, production can be accelerated to meet market requirements. This perhaps explains why Dad's Army appeared out of nowhere just in time for the 2016 European Referendum, and how Dunkirk gate-crashed the party in its aftermath. Now that the first phase of Britain's withdrawal from the European Union is over, Emmanuel Macron has speculated that a special deal maintaining economic relations without impeding UK independence may be possible and Theresa May has managed to silence the 'Remain' rebels in her own party, it's only natural the latest instalment in this spiritual franchise features a Prime Minister who overcomes incredible odds and opposition to rally their country behind them.
More than literary adaptations or original stories, historical events are the most powerful resource in the filmmaker's armoury, particularly when that filmmaker has an agenda. They know (quite cynically, and from experience) that mainstream audiences are less likely to quibble with films based on fact than those trading on fantasy, no matter how 'realistic' the presentation. They also know that by repurposing the events they're depicting as a mirror for contemporary issues they have the power to affect our perception. As a commercial film ostensibly about the 1940 cabinet crisis and Britain's subsequent declaration of war against Germany, you would expect Darkest Hour to explain why Churchill was so opposed to fascism, why other members of the coalition government were more favourably disposed towards it, and what it actually means to live in such a society. Darkest Hour doesn't feel the need to contextualise the events it depicts or the moral conflict it vaguely alludes to because they don't fit with what's happening in the here and now. In fact, I counted the number of times the words 'German' and 'Nazi' were used in the dialogue: 'German' three times, 'Nazi' twice. Only an idiot would struggle to name the belligerents in World War Two, but for a film about the politics of that conflict to ignore the very reason why it was fought in the first place suggests you're either looking at a poorly crafted script or a thinly-veiled piece of propaganda.
Anyway, let's look at the film on its own terms: after all, that's why we're here. So, what about Churchill? How does the Great British Bulldog come out of all this?
Very well, unsurprisingly. We're all familiar with John Ford's famous quote about the choice between the truth or the legend. On the surface, Darkest Hour attempts a bit of both, but in reality it's firmly rooted in the latter. The Churchill we see plagued by self-doubt and moments of depressive anguish is just a by-product of narrative convention; if he were to breeze through the film as a force of nature, demolishing his enemies in the cabinet with the acerbic wit or moral gravitas he was fabled for then the audience wouldn't find him sympathetic enough. Unfortunately, some critics have mistaken this for genuine character study and written a load of bollocks about how this is a deeply humanising vision of Churchill. There's an effective scene where he telephones Franklin Roosevelt and asks for assistance in the evacuation of Dunkirk, only to find the President wrapped up in red tape following the 1939 Neutrality Act. For a brief moment, we get a genuine glimpse of the impotence Churchill must've felt as events spiralled out of control, but the film soon snaps back into 'Churchill: The Enigma'-mode and we don't learn anything we didn't already know. He smokes cigars, makes the 'V for Victory' sign (with no mention of its origins during the Hundred Years War, oddly enough) and delivers rousing speeches. Some character study, eh?
There are frequent references to Churchill's ill-fated Gallipoli campaign throughout the film, but the man himself seems to treat it as a minor blemish in an otherwise spotless political career. At no point does Anthony McCarten's screenplay attempt to explain how it damaged Churchill's reputation, and refuses to allow that disaster to weigh heavily upon Winnie's shoulders as he spearheads the rescue of British forces in France: it just ends up as another detail thrown into the mix that doesn't require elaboration, 'cos, y'know- if it did we'd lose sight of Darkest Hour's agenda. There are also several references to the 1926 General Strike, which are very interesting because they seem to suggest Churchill had no part in those events. Again, it's easy to see why the script skirts round this: in a film where Churchill's meant to be the figurehead of British liberal idealism, modern audiences wouldn't take too kindly to the knowledge he sent in the army to deal with impoverished working men who simply wanted a decent wage and more food on the table. Perhaps it was inevitable, then, that Churchill advocating compulsory sterilisation of, as he put it, the "unintelligent working class" wouldn't get a look-in.
The most intriguing character in Darkest Hour isn't Churchill, in fact, but Chamberlain. In many ways, his portrayal here brings to mind Clive Wynne-Candy in Michael Powell's 1943 classic The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp. Chamberlain is presented as a man whose firm belief in Queensberry Rules and British fair play seem out of date in a world where politics is no longer beholden to gentlemanly agreement and death can be manufactured on an industrial scale. It would've been very easy to mock him, but the film is remarkably even-handed on this account. The scene where he confides in Lord Halifax that he won't live to see Britain in peacetime again is incredibly touching and handled with considerable restraint. In one, perfectly crafted moment we understand that Chamberlain is part of a dying breed, and the tragedy is he knows it, too.
We should've had more characterisation like this, but sadly everyone else seems to serve a plot function. It's never explained why Anthony Eden doggedly supports Churchill as party leader: he just does until dramatic tension dictates otherwise. Much is made of Halifax's bid for power and the support he receives from George VI, but the only reason the monarch appears to back Halifax is because they share a speech impediment. (Okay, I'm being facetious now- but that really is how it comes across.) His sudden, unexpected U-turn in favour of Churchill seems to take place off-screen, making their subsequent conciliation appear forced and extremely awkward.
"I don't have many people I can be truthful with about this sort of thing," Winnie tearfully confides when it becomes apparent the British Expeditionary Force may not make it out of France alive.
"Nor I," George smiles, placing his hand on Winnie's shoulder. "But we don't have to be alone anymore."
Yeah, sorry- it's sweet and everything, but we need a little bit more than that. If his nibs really is troubled at the thought of having to rule in exile because the Nazis will fail to honour a peace accord, then show us: don't just info-dump us and expect us to buy the sentiment. That's not how storytelling works.
The two characters who are short-changed the most, however, are Churchill's secretary Elizabeth Layton and his wife Clementine. The former is posited as an audience surrogate, allowing us a port of entry to observe Winston's quirks and moral drives up close. Once we reach the halfway point, her narrative function falls away because the film wrongly assumes we're up to speed enough to understand her employer. As a consequence, Layton becomes increasingly less important until she reaches the point of near-invisibility. Conversely, Clementine remains a visible presence throughout, offering emotional support for her beleaguered husband at the expense of us getting to know her in any meaningful way. She obviously idolises Winston's inner-strength and determination, but what of her own? Again, as far as the script's concerned it seems to be enough that she's there and fulfilling the remit for a strong female character. The only real arc she has is looking after the household and complaining to Winston about his expenditure, and even that only occupies a couple of scenes. You could argue that the role reflects that of women at the time, but like the other characters she's just another satellite caught in Winston's orbit.
I can't fault any of the performances: everyone acquits themselves admirably despite the flimsy material they've been given. Kristine Scott Thomas and Ronald Pickup as Clementine and Chamberlain are the real stand-outs, and Lily James recalls the plucky spunk of British leading ladies of the '40s. Oldman, on the other hand, I'm undecided about. It's a good performance, but not a great one. Some critics (and, indeed, friends of mine) have said they accepted him as Churchill right from his opening scene, never once pausing to think those jowls are glued on. I wouldn't go that far. Underneath those layers of padding and latex, we find an actor who doesn't so much inhabit the part as approximate it. Oldman's real triumph here is to play the part with his eyes. which lighten or darken to fit the mood of the film at any given moment. It's a characteristic we see as far back as Oldman's breakout role in Alan Clarke's marvellous football hooliganism drama The Firm, where a maelstrom of love and hate twinkles in Bex Bissell's iris. In Darkest Hour, it's vulnerability and defiance we see behind those eyes. The Churchill we see here may only be The Legend rather than The Man, but it's Oldman's expressiveness that keeps it from descending into caricature.
I suspect, though, that if Oldman had been playing Sir John Falstaff or Robert Maxwell the critics wouldn't even be discussing Oscar nominations. It's a worthy role, and as such one that makes people sit up and take notice when there's actually no real cause for them to do so. And here we go back to the filmmakers' awareness of how uncritical audiences are when confronted with films based on real people and events: just bung a load of acclaimed actors in the mix and watch 'em hoover it up. Joe Wright's direction, which is pedestrian at best, seems to rely almost solely on the performances to sell Darkest Hour. (We'll overlook the daft ticking-clock inserts: imagine 24 using an Art Deco-style countdown and you're close to understanding the garishness of the effect.) Given the cast is made up of the cream of the British acting aristocracy, old and young, there's an imperious sense of authority that seeps through the screen and clouds our judgement. We accept what we're watching because that bloke from Our Friends in the North is arguing with that guy from Track 29 while that fella from The Long Walk to Finchley waves his fists. It doesn't really matter what we're being sold, our function is to buy whatever the message is because the actors have the weight of a thousand quality productions behind them.
So, that's Darkest Hour, then: a party political broadcast on behalf of the 'Leave' lobby. Whatever I personally feel about Britain's exit from the EU is immaterial as far as this article-cum-essay is concerned, but I do have a problem with films like this. For one thing, they're practically worthless on an artistic level since they refuse to encourage debate about what it is we're looking at, and for another they play into the hands of predatory elites who perpetuate their own ideologies by reshaping our view of the past to suit their purposes. By anchoring itself to one of the soberest episodes in British history, Darkest Hour manipulates the audience into accepting its Eurosceptic ethos: it likens us to those gormless cockneys on the Tube who told the PM to stand up to the Nazi war machine, reminding us how we in the UK also made a difference in voting to leave the EU and, so doing, reasserted our British sovereignty to Johnny Foreigner. Bully for us, eh? Rule Britannia! Britannia rules the waves... etc. Perhaps we shouldn't have expected anything else from the director of Charles II: The Power and the Passion: a TV drama that makes it perfectly clear the Restoration was A Good Thing because ...erm... Well, we've always had a monarchy, haven't we? So, there. How he ended up directing "Nosedive" for Black Mirror is anyone's guess.
For what it's worth, I believe the Second World War was one of the few conflicts in the history of mankind that was fought out of moral necessity (or, as George Orwell charmingly described it, "common decency"), but the kind of thinly-veiled politicking Darkest Hour peddles in not only cheapens itself but the people and events it purports to be honouring. We live in a culture now where The Image is everything. As such, anybody who works in visual media has an obligation to use the medium responsibly in a way that doesn't distort or mislead. They would do well to remember the words of the late, great art historian and philosopher John Berger in his seminal work Ways of Seeing - and this is not a suggestion, but a warning:
"Images were first made to conjure up the appearance of something that was absent. Gradually it became evident that an image could outlast what it represented."
The Churchill we see in Darkest Hour is not the Churchill who led the coalition government during the Second World War, the passengers in the Underground do not represent us and this film does not mirror the first step for British independence from Europe. If this production is held up in twenty years time for capturing the cultural zeitgeist sweeping the UK right now, then 2016-17 will truly have been the British film industry's own darkest hour.
