Happy-Go-Lucky
Thursday, May 14, 2009 at 8:00AM As an unapologetic anglophile since my early youth, all things British (except the cuisine, Thatcher and soccer) have been easy and enjoyable for me. I discovered Monty Python in my preteens and followed it with Fawlty Towers. Took an educational excursion into the works of David Lean, Michael Powell, Tony Richardson and Carol Reed. Then swiftly graduated to the weirdness of Ken Russell when I discovered acid and deviant sexual behavior in high school.
As the 1980s dragged on in "The States" (and my boredom crescendoed), the English cinema exploded with creative surges from Stephen Frears, Mike Leigh and Ken Loach. While American films napped under the stifling philistinism of the Reagan years, the Brits were putting together a renaissance.
And don't think I didn't hear you snickering when I mentioned Ken Russell.
All of this means very little now (the U.S. and U.K. film industries both suck again) except to mention that no one has been directing good movies as consistently as Mike Leigh for the past thirty years.
His latest, Happy-Go-Lucky, is a charming little ditty that represents a slight break with his string of more serious films such as Vera Drake, All or Nothing, Career Girls and Secrets & Lies. I will omit speaking of Topsy-Turvy as I found it an unmitigated disaster. This is the director's first stab at a comedy since 1991's Life is Sweet. But with Leigh, chuckles always come with painful insights.
At the center of Happy-Go-Lucky is the indefatigable, effervescent Poppy (an astounding performance from Sally Hawkins), a 24-hour fun factory of bon mots, clever ripostes, grins and giggles. Her ebullience is infectious. Her enthusiasm cannot be squelched. She is irrepressible in her gaiety, a conniver of conviviality, a matron of merriment, the final word in festivity. Her sunny disposition- unbecloudable.
I have never seen a character quite like her in film. The closest I could get was to imagine Dudley Moore's "Arthur" as a responsible and cute female. She is a rara avis; a bright, funny, pretty, caring, unpretentious free-spirit who is kind to children, adults and animals.
Of course, in real life, about two hours of that manic, good-natured élan would have me blinding her with bleach, clubbing her to death, wrapping her in plastic and weighing her down in a lake. Fuck me though, I'm a bit of a pessimist.
Which is why I adore Mike Leigh films. He likes to pick at scabs and stick fingers into gaping psychic wounds. Often times his characters are so luckless and defeated you can't help but shake your head and openly sob, no matter who's in the room or theater with you.
The off-putting, incongruous side alleys of cringe-inducing social discomfort and sudden tragedy are at the heart of most of his stories. It is why Naked is perhaps the greatest character study of the past twenty years. And why many of those closest to me always mention my unfortunate similarities to David Thewlis' "Johnny". You know, without the violent misogyny.
Fortunately, Happy-Go-Lucky has few of those disturbing traits. It is rather a lark and truly needed to stay such without dark distractions. There are troubling moments with Poppy's somewhat unhinged driving instructor (Eddie Marsan), a homeless drifter and an abused pupil at her school. But these instances point to Poppy's depth of humanity and keep her character from being regarded solely as a giddy doof.
My only gripe is the film's 118 minute length. Much too long for a comedy.
I realize I keep harping on this, but it's time to get serious about running times.
I'm not talking out and out fascism here to curb the unwanted behavior. I'm not even speaking of me as the possible wizard/genius/Führer to make it real. I'm just suggesting allowing me the total power to reign over filmdom and do what I think best for the reputation of the cinema. What's the worst that could happen?
We will discuss this further. I promise.
Reader Comments (2)
C. Adolph, I seem to remember a conversation with you back in the 80s or 90s about your hatred of British cinema. Have you changed your mind? Or maybe you meant all those Merchant Ivory films popular then. Are those British are just made to look that way? Or maybe British cinema at that time. Or maybe you were just joking. Anyway, I never pegged you for an Anglophile. There is some Python in you though. You used to rag me about my love of Red Dwarf and Doctor Who. But I do remember your brilliant suggestion for Gabriel Byrne as Doctor Who. I am also reminded of British Comedian Alexi Sayle saying "Who keeps giving Ken Russell money to make films?".
I was always a big fan of British cinema. British telly on the other hand...
And only the Tom Baker Dr. Who's were worth watching.
Red Dwarf was (and remains) an awful show.
I remember that Alexi Sayle line as well. Russell must have a wealthy industrialist friend whom he has dirt on from the sex and drug days of swinging Soho. There can be no other reason except pure spite and misanthropy that something like Salome's Last Dance exists.