Rating: 6.5/10

Writer: Richard Curtis
Director: Richard Curtis
Cast: Philip Seymour Hoffman, Kenneth Branagh, Nick Frost, Bill Nighy
Studio: Focus Features

For all the marketing, don’t believe that PIRATE RADIO focuses solely on the contributions of Philip Seymour Hoffman’s American DJ, the Count, on the floating bit of rock heaven called (ahem) Radio Rock. This is, like so many of Richard Curtis’ other big hits (his directorial debut LOVE ACTUALLY, or FOUR WEDDINGS AND A FUNERAL), a film that benefits from the work of a large ensemble. We spend as much time with the Count as we do with Tom Sturridge’s Carl, or even Chris O’Dowd’s Simon. The performances in PIRATE RADIO are all stand-out and often quite funny. Hoffman plays a cooler version of ALMOST FAMOUS’ Lester Bangs, Rhys Ifans puts his own spin on a role that almost certainly could have gone to Bill Nighy thirty years ago, Nighy’s Quentin is a deliciously wicked take on the quick-tongued rogue, and Tom Sturridge can give Robert Pattinson a run for the role of the adorable Brit with floppy hair and soft eyes.

The premise of PIRATE RADIO is fun indeed. Loosely based on the Radio Caroline, the DJs of Radio Rock broadcast their turns 24/7 from a ship in the North Sea, as the British government has banned rock music from airwaves for more than two hours at a time. The Radio Rock DJs are a motley bunch, bound together by their love for rock and their tenuous affection for each other. They rock, they roll, high-jinks on the high seas ensue. But the film suffers from a mostly directionless plot and iffy pacing throughout.

The underlying story of the film involves the work of Kenneth Branagh as one seriously tight-assed minister determined to bring down pirate radio simply because he can. And he’s boring. And he hates fun. And it gives him a chance to employ an underling whom he only addresses by his last name (Twatt). Beyond that, Branagh snarls and stalks about and is painfully easy to chuckle at because he’s The Man. And, if rock movies have taught us anything, it can be boiled down to one phrase, “Damn the Man. Save the Empire.” It just so happens that this empire floats and is colonized primarily by polyester-wearing rockers who are best characterized by their DJ handles. We’ll forgive them and save them anyway.

But, despite the strength of the cast, many of their individual storylines get lost in the shuffle. The UK version of PIRATE RADIO (called THE BOAT THAT ROCKED) is nearly an entire hour longer, so it’s no surprise that there is a bit of an Athena issue at play here - so many parts of the narrative of the film seem to have appeared fully formed, but not explained. How exactly does Quentin pay for his boat (surely, advertising revenues were not high enough to keep the DJs salaried and boat afloat, and Quentin swans about with a such an air of refinement that surely, SURELY, he must have some wealth somewhere, and I truly do apologize for how much this detail irritated me)? How did everyone get there (the only real boat origin story we see from the main characters is that of Carl)? Is it really just that easy to flag down a tug and hitch a ride to a boat (see: every second Saturday, some of the final scenes)? The last twenty or so minutes of the film get muddled and choppy in a way that make the narrative verge on improbable.

But for all its narrative hiccups, PIRATE RADIO is a fun bet for anyone who lived through the sixties, or just today’s hip kids who have an equal appreciation for the Beatles, the Stones, and the Hollies. Despite its (American) run time of nearly two hours, it’s a fun romp and does not lag. You’ll want to dance in your seat, even when a little voice in your head can’t help but cut through the tunes and implore, but what happened to the crew? Why are all the ladies easy? How the hell did they get this goddamn boat anyway?

[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qX1SSiFWF-s[/youtube]