a mild romp more than a rock-n-roll classic

Rating: 6/10 (14 November 2009)

Richard Curtis' second film following his smash Love Actually (also an ensemble piece) is Pirate Radio (as it's called here, before it was the better-titled The Boat That Rocked). It comes with some minutes missing from its running time since its UK release, though from what was cut I don't know. What can be said is that the movie, at the least, is amiable fun, an amusing trip through the mostly fun times of a boat of "pirate radio" rockers, who in 1966 had a ship that broadcasted the latest and greatest in rock tunes (Kinks, Stones, Yardbirds, Procol Harum, you name it they spin it), and kept leading along a frustrated Parliament tool (Branaugh, maybe the funniest one-note character of the movie) and his "Twat" who tried and (sort of) succeeded in shutting them down with a bogus law. That's as much of a plot as you can really get here. Oh, and people really love the pirate radio station, a lot, as we can figure by the odd LOT of assortment of people Curtis cuts away to listening in all the time.
The film is at best a hoot; we see talented actors like Philip Seymour Hoffman and Rhys Ifans playing DJ's with big reputations and huge egos who play a game of chicken (put to Morricone of course); we see hijinks surrounding a new young guy on the boat who may lose his virginity, if and when he can get a "con-dom", and once done may be announced over the radio; and Bill Nighy, whose mere presence on screen in his droll announcements as the manager of the station makes such as the "Good news Bad News" bits. And it goes without saying that the soundtrack, almost neverending except for those scenes with Branaugh, is fantastic and makes scenes move along at a pleasant and often hip movement (my favorite scene like this being an awkward moment where three guys sit with tea and cookies listening to Leonard Cohen's "So Long Marianne").
But, sadly, a cool cast and some fab music a very good movie isn't made. The problem, maybe the big one, is that Curtis can't seem to really make most of these characters defined past their simple face-value features. Even when there's attempts to make them more well-rounded they're undercut by the 'situations' they're put in, and none except for the young man looking for his wayward father on the ship (the revelation a quick larf) have much to do except for small stories that come up like the 17-hour marriage or Nick Frost playing a sex machine (!) It seems, as mentioned, like something meant more for television, where one can dip in and out and be entertained in pieces, and perhaps skip over or flip away from those good but repetitive cut-aways to the odd-assortment of British people listening in to the shows. This is unfortunate since Curtis so made almost every character in Love Actually realistic and relatable, giving them short stories unto themselves as opposed to little 'bits' to do here and there.
This isn't to say that if you're a rock fan, especially from that period (and really, if you're into rock and don't like that period in Britain, you should check yourself), you shouldn't see it. It's worth a view and it's never offensive to a viewer's tastes. It is, in a word, breezy: you sit down, have some fun, and only remember some scenes and maybe parts of Hoffman's performance that go beyond the call of duty. He actually is given the one scene that is actually poignant in the film: the station, late in the film, is in trouble, and he sits brooding in his chair: "... these are the best times of our lives." This is said not as a cliché, but as a truth for this character. They are good times. If only they were less sloppily put together and focused with hilarity.