The Boat That Rocked

The Boat That Rocked

By Jonathan Fisher, April 12th, 2009


A quick look at Richard Curtis's filmography would suggest that his primary interest is love, humour, and the mending of wounded souls. Four Weddings and a Funeral, Love Actually, The Girl in the Cafe, and even the sardonic classic television series Black Adder all came from his pen. But I get a sense that, if pressed, Curtis would probably admit that rock music is a subject closer to his heart than rom-coms. Just about all of his previous films beam with love for music, particularly pop music -- The Boat That Rocked is the first time that Curtis has really allowed himself to go crazy in expressing his passion for music, both the lifestyle and the tracks.

The movie begins with a bit of context. It's England in 1966, and despite the 60s being the best decade ever for rock music, there isn't a radio channel devoted solely to playing rock music. The movie tells us that BBC Radio plays pop and rock music just 45 minutes on average each day. Pirate radio stations, like "Radio Rock, depicted in the story, run from international waters off the UK coast, and are listened to by half the population of Britain. The Government, particularly cabinet minister Dormandy (Kenneth Branagh), is wary of the pirates' popularity, and aspires to rid the country of pirate radio stations like Radio Rock.

Radio Rock is run by Quentin (Bill Nighy in Love Actually mode), a genial old chap who welcomes his godson Carl (Tom Sturridge), sent by his mother to spend some time away from home after recently being expelled from school. Out of the frying pan, into the saucepan -- the debaucherous behaviour on the boat surely can't have been seen as beneficial for Carl by his mother, but did she have an ulterior motive in sending Carl aboard Rock Radio?

The radio station's staff is seen as a family of sorts, and the actors that play them are a greatest-hits of British comedy. Apart from Bill Nighy, Nick Frost plays an overweight sexpot, Rhys Ifans channels Liam Gallagher as the 'coolest DJ in the world', while Phillip Seymour Hoffman lends his Academy credibility as "The Count".

On the mainland, Minister Dormandy hires an adviser named Twatt (ho-ho, get it?) to find a loophole in the legal system to deem pirate broadcasting as illegal. It's never really explained why Dormandy is so vitriolic in his hatred of the radio station, but it probably isn't important. He is there to function as the film's villain, and little is done to expand his character beyond that.

The movie moves to and from the minister's quest to stamp out the station, and Carl's experience on the boat. He discovers the stuff that kids really do discover at that age -- drinking, partying, music, and above all lust. Gemma Arterton plays Carl's love interest, and her feminine presence is a welcome one -- one of the problems with The Boat That Rocked is just how man-driven it is. Only one woman is on board the ship, and the punchline of all jokes relating to her are about her homosexuality. Just about all of the other female characters are seen as being purely sexual vehicles for the men on the boat.

The Boat That Rocked's plot plays second fiddle to the music on show. Fans of 1960s music, like me, will probably find plenty to enjoy. Unfortunately, the movie's problem is its story. Curtis's deft talent for writing comedy shines through occasionally, but it condones a lifestyle that I cannot. Sure, the rock and roll lifestyle is fun, but does it make misogyny and narcissism acceptable? Almost Famous, a film that is certainly comparable to The Boat That Rocked, ripped straight into the heart of rock and roll and showed us all the beautiful and terrible things its lifestyle enshrines. The Boat That Rocked wants to convince us that it's all rock and no roll.