Some Good Aspects Do Not Make Up For A Collection Of Lies And Half-Truths

Rating: 6/10 (4 May 2020)

Myths don't have to be factually truthful; that's the whole point. At their best, myths take us to truths that are deeper than mere facts. At their worst, they sell us lies about ourselves; and lies are shifting sands to build a foundation on. In defence of myths, people will do the outrageous and the marvellous; and those who question myths often find themselves shouted down or, at the worst, dead.
So to The Darkest Hour, Joe Wright's account of the short period of Churchill's premiership at the outset, through to Dunkirk (when, not coincidentally, the Brexit referendum was reaching fever pitch). Made around the same time as Christopher Nolan's Dunkirk, it's a very different film. Largely conventional, not without merit, but in many senses lazy and deceptive.
Let's be clear. Gary Oldman is remarkable in the lead role; worthily recognised in awards, as with the remarkable prosthetic and make-up work that enabled him to be physically transformed. Kristin Scott Thomas as his wife is criminally underused, but still turns in a lovely performance, as she so often does. It's also moves along at a brisk and engaging pace, and is never dull despite the well-won paths of this slice of history.
But it stops there. The film buys in to the Churchillian myth from the beginning - the divinely appointed (no, I'm not exaggerating; I've heard that said many a time) strong leader who led Britian, standing alone, to heroic victory. Churchill is often bathed in almost god-like light, especially when speaking in Parliament; his alcoholic drinking habits are largely passed off as eccentric indulgences; his near-bullying treatment of his secretary is mostly played for gentle laughs (especially empahsised by the none-too-subtle score). This is a Churchill who mostly brooks no dissenting voices despite appointing opposition politicians to his War Cabinet; who mocks the King behind his back (with whom he becomes friends at the convenient moment). Many shots are framed and lit as if they were historical portraits. It's all about the myth.
The myth of British exceptionalism, which will like Churchill himself, remain unchallenged. There is no hint of irony when Churchill says that countries that fight on, rise strong; Britain spiralled in to decline for decades after the 2nd World War. At one point, a telegram sent by Churchill to an officer in the field is portrayed as worryingly close to the voice of God; and we all know you can't talk back to God (spoiler: you can, actually; but I hope I've read too much into that scene).
As decision time to surrender or fight on approaches, Churchill takes a ride on the London Underground to gauge the will of the people. This never happened; but that's not necessarily a problem. Shakespeare makes it work, after all. But not here; it becomes an absurd process of Churchill asking blindingly obvious leading questions to a convenient cross-section of British society (in the space of one train stop), and everyone looks very happy and confident. Churchill then stretches the truth of that encounter to breaking point both with his own Cabinet and the House of Commons, in a moment of falsehood that would be enough for a vote of no confidence if any of it actually happened.
And thus the Churchillian myth, embraced by Johnson and Trump alike, is bolstered one again; his racism not mentioned, his choices and character uncritiqued. Not to deny his great wartime achievement, of course; but this story needs better. For from this myth of Churchill summoning innate British independence and strength comes nationalistic isolationism, airbrushing of prejudice, and the excusing of anything as long as the ends serve the greater good (read: support the myth).
It's not a bad film; it's decently entertaining and passed an afternoon in Covid Lockdown. It is, however, a film in service of a grandiose lie. And over-praised in service of lies can dangerous in times of crisis.