A buoyant vessel

Writer/director Richard Curtis (Love Actually, Bridget Jones's Diary, Four Weddings and a Funeral) has taken some heat for his fictive re-imagining of the pirate radio fad (ships broadcasting from international waters) that culminated with the Marine Offences Act, which effectively outlawed the practice in 1967. Curtis in turn has defended the factual liberties he resorted to by claiming his film is for "entertainment purposes only." In fact, though his story deviates wildly from the true events - the real life "pirates" were far less idealistic, rebellious and, ultimately, interesting - it nonetheless gets at the spirit of rock 'n' roll.

The Boat That Rocked features music by The Kinks, The Who, Cat Stevens, Cream, Jimi Hendrix and a long list of other iconic musicians from the period. Satirizing the clichés of the era - free love, substance abuse, eclectic dress, etc. - the story pairs a retinue of eccentric DJs with blocks of airtime in an around-the-clock whirlwind of musical enthusiasm.  

At the outset, Young Carl (Tom Sturridge) is sent by his mother (Emma Thompson) to gain an education of sorts with the counterculture crew of the pirate radio ship. Subplots concerning the lad's virginity and parentage (as well as the loneliness of the resident lesbian) augment the central story of the station's struggle to survive the repressive efforts of the UK government. Bill Nighy is the master of ceremonies as the station's fearless leader, Quentin. The actor is as fine and subtle a comedian here as he is leaden in more dramatic roles.

Similarly, it is humbling indeed for a stated enemy of Philip Seymour Hoffman's to have to admit in print that he is not only charming and convincing as The Count, one of Radio Rock's star DJs, but turns out to be the beating heart of a warm and endearing film. Nick Frost (Shaun of the Dead), who could squeeze a laugh from practically any script, is intermittently hilarious as the lecherous and obese Doctor Dave, and Tom Brooke's Thick Kevin delivers some of the most memorable and witty line readings out of a cast packed with talented comedians.   

Kenneth Branagh embodies priggishness as Sir Alistair Dormandy, who, along with his aptly named subaltern, Dominic Twatt (Jack Davenport), leads the charge for decency and moral rectitude in an all-out war on free expression. That the government was in truth hardly that vile, and the DJs hardly as liberated, seems of passing concern. It's good storytelling, and, as with all good storytelling, is firmly rooted in facts of human nature that we all know to be true.

On the surface, the story would seem to be little more than an excuse for a running series of bawdy gags and sketch comedy - and there are certainly plenty of both. But The Boat That Rocked also manages to generate some genuinely poignant thematic elements. Amid the ribaldry, camaraderie abounds, and the characters' faith in the human spirit as well as their love of music is catching, to say the least.

Critics have also noted that the film is dangerously overlong at two and a half hours, and it does indeed drag a bit in places. Curtis' intention to cut the film down for distribution in the United States is probably wise, but it's difficult think of scenes that stand out as deserving of deletion.

Curtis may have created a borderline cartoonish and exaggerated portrait of a much-examined (some would say exhausted) period in popular culture. But fictive tricks that would seem faux pas in a treatment of, say, World War I are strangely appropriate for dealing with the late 1960s. After all, it would be difficult to overexaggerate the absurdities and expressiveness entailed in that collective casting-off of uptight attitudes and boorishness. In failing to show fealty to a specific historical episode, Curtis has captured the essence of an era.

James Walling can be reached at
jwalling@praguepost.com