Best known for classic British romcoms such as Four Weddings and a Funeral, Notting Hill and Love Actually, Richard Curtis slips on his rose-tinted glasses to pay homage to the pirate DJs of the 1960s, whose mission to bring forbidden music to British listeners brought them into direct conflict with the government of the day.
Anchored in the North Sea just outside the clutches of British authorities, Radio Rock pumps out swinging sixties anthems 24 hours a day, in contrast to the stuffy behemoth of the BBC, which rations its listeners to a few hours a week. Owned by the dapper Quentin (Bill Nighy phoning in a reprisal of his role from Love Actually), the station is host to an assortment of DJs whose egos are only matched by their alleged prowess with the opposite sex.
Tom Sturridge as Ne'er Do Well Nephew
Into this haven of testosterone stumbles Quentin’s godson Carl (Tom Sturridge), who has been expelled from school and presumably dispatched into Quentin’s care to get his life back on track. What possible bad influences could there be on a boat churning out illicit music, drugs and alcohol on demand, and a group of men determined to help him lose his virginity? Despite floppy hair and the ability to “um” on cue, Sturridge sadly lacks the likability of Hugh Grant, which might have made him more appealing.
What is meant to be a floating two-finger salute to the establishment ends up nothing more than Animal House On Water. Packed with the most comprehensive set of misogynists since a Carry On triple bill, the all-boys-together atmosphere quickly becomes wearisome. Rather than displaying their dedication to providing rock and roll to the deprived masses, the DJs only come to life when they are indulging in some puerile contest to prove their masculinity, or when the next boat load of totty is delivered for their delectation.
Curtis’ usual flair for writing rounded female characters is also noticeably absent. Naturally the only woman on board is the cook, and a lesbian to boot (luckily for her). The rest of the ladies (apart from a blink-and-you-miss it cameo from Emma Thompson) exist merely to provide decoration and of course sex on demand, being inexplicably attracted to a boatload of cretins merely because they are “famous”. Free love? Only because they don’t have to pay for it …
Look Out, He’s Behind You!
In a further bid to ensure sympathy for the brave boys at sea, Curtis also creates one of the most one-dimensional villains this side of a Christmas panto in the form of Minister Dormandy (Kenneth Branagh). Complete with Hitler moustache and literally trembling with disgust at how this “pornography” is corrupting the good citizens of Britain, there is nothing he will not stoop to in order to shut the station down.
He even refuses to authorise lifeboats to rescue the DJs as Radio Rock sinks slowly into the sunset in the almost laughable Titanic pastiche at the end. Fortunately Branagh has no problem playing pompous authority figures, as he ably demonstrated in his turn as Gilderoy Lockhart in Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, and his scenes actually end up being some of the most enjoyable.
Aside from the soundtrack, packed with the usual baby boomer favourites, The Boat That Rocked does little to evoke the passions of the era. Rhys Ifans, the only DJ with an ounce of charisma, is criminally wasted in petty squabbles with token Yank Philip Seymour Hoffman. What could have been a sweet, nostalgic coming of age movie ends up as little more than an extended frat party
