Film review: Churchill


A few days before the invasion of Normandy, British Prime Minister Winston Churchill battles with his reservations about the World War II invasion, depression and his obsession to be remembered as one of the greatest leaders in history…

Often dubbed as the ‘Greatest Briton of All Time’, a title backed up by his addition to the United Kingdom’s most recent piece of currency, Winston Churchill may easily be perceived as unfaltering in his vision of patriotism and success. Director Jonathan Teplitsky, with his second consecutive WW2 picture following on from 2013’s The Railway Man, portrays the great man in totally new colours.

Played within the inch by great Scottish character actor Brian Cox (no, not the science guy), this vision of Winston Churchill may be one before unseen by many. Jaded by four long years of war, Churchill is blighted by alcoholism and depression. In the days leading up to what has since become known as D-Day, Churchill has become increasingly belligerent and rash in his demeanour and decision making. Introduced to the fold, owing to the addition of US troops in the war effort, is headstrong and steadfast General Dwight D. Eisenhower (John Slattery). In alliance with British Army leader Bernard Montgomery (Julian Wadham), the pair piece together plans for the enormous landing on Normandy that proved essential to the success of the British war effort.

Terrified by the magnitude of the operation and revolted at the prospect of being left out of the planning party by his contemporaries, Churchill is torn apart and determined to halt the invasion at all costs. Having been responsible for the death of so many in Gallipoli in WW1, he is fearful of reaping the same consequences once more. Propping him up from behind is his ferociously loving wife Clementine (Miranda Richardson), the real unsung hero to Churchill’s success.

The performances from both Cox and Richardson are to be leveled with the esteem of the parties that they are depicting. Now a seasoned veteran of playing noted historical figures (spanning from Leon Trotsky to Hermann Goring), Cox has clearly studied his part with a fine tooth comb once again. His movements, drawl and posture are all perfectly on point in his reproduction of a man with such iconic characteristics. Even the constant cigar-chewing is immediately recognisable (the BBFC classification board at the film’s opening warns young audiences of the inclusion of ‘historical smoking’, one of the few chuckles that this film is going to offer up).  Richardson too handles the delicate balance of strength and tenderness that becomes so crucial to her character’s success with perfect control. Her screen presence is in equal parts terrifying and compelling.

The film falls short in its ability to match the tenacity of its characters. Plotwise, the journey is a touch lacking even for a character led vehicle. Pacing is seldom at a premium. There are further upsets to the story in the form of shoehorned subplots (one delivered in the shape of a tedious secretary whose partner is fighting abroad) that only serve to divert attention and focus from the film’s solid elements. The cinematography and period design of the film are both clearly highly thought out and deliver a suitably dulled palette to a story that in itself has ample reason to reserve its use of light and colour to those small moments of personal celebration and grandiosity.

Despite some strong aspects, the film overall travels along with the drawl that we associate with its titular character. Whilst it is important that in times of such political uncertainty we reflect on our nation’s darkest hours, there is little of the lasting effect that one might hope to leave with after viewing such a film. It must, however, be said that it is truly admirable for a filmmaker to make the effort to show us the effect that carrying a nation’s weight on a single individual’s shoulders can have behind the scenes. The personal anguish held by Churchill makes his deliverance and exudation of hope to millions ever more impressive.

 

 

 

 

Author: Joe, York Store