The boat that rocked

It seems only right and proper that The Boat That Rocked, a comedy for people who don’t know the meaning of the word, is unleashed on April Fool’s Day. One would have to enjoy that festival of chronically unfunny pranks to appreciate the relentless forced jollity of Richard Curtis’ latest stretching bore.
How does he do it? You’d imagine it would be impossible to make a film based on the swashbuckling early adventures of pirate legend Radio Caroline that was stupid and pointless. You’d imagine that no picture featuring an army of funny men – Nick Frost, Bill Nighy, Chris O’Dowd – could reduce you to tears as you wait, in vain, for the credits to roll. You’d imagine that the writer-director of Four Weddings And A Funeral couldn’t sink so low.
Think again. Like Love, Actually, The Boat That Rocked wastes a remarkable cast. There is no plot to speak of. As the film opens young Tom Sturridge is sent to Radio Rock, an illegal outfit broadcasting from the North Sea and home to many way-hey riotous characters. Bill Nighy is the good ship’s captain. Nick Frost is the sarcastic one. Chris O’Dowd is the Irish one. Rhys Ifans is the vain one. Philip Seymour Hoffman is the one that’s doing proper acting. And so on.
Ker-razy things happen without warning or reason. Mad Men’s January Jones marries Chris O’Dowd for five minutes, then sods off again. Rhys Ifans and PSH race up the ship’s mast. There are five different endings, all of them tedious. Every single scene is punctuated with clichéd reaction shots of ‘60s Britain getting into the swing of unregulated grooves, like Austin Powers drained of subtlety.
Decent comic turns, particularly from Messrs. Frost, Branagh and O’Dowd, are crowded out by this unending zaniness. Only Gemma Arterton, an actress who has made a fine career of playing pretty, largely mute dolly birds with approximately 87 seconds of screen time (see also Three and Out, Quantum of Solace), seems suited to her role as a pretty, largely mute dolly bird with approximately 87 seconds of screen time.
In the cut and thrust of Mr. Curtis’ chilling blink-and-you’ll-miss-it movie-verse, everyone’s a Gemma Arterton. For all the noise and movement, we never get to know any of the characters or what in hell is going on. Even the music, despite being a veritable ‘60s greatest hits package, is sullied by yuk-yuk context. (“Meet my girlfriend, Eleanor“, Cue The Turtles.)
The Boat That Rocked wants to be a Richard Lester movie Ha. Richard Branson more like.