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| Hollywood bombast brings out the best of British | Hollywood bombast brings out the best of British |
| (about 20 hours later) | |
| Four people wrote London Has Fallen, a new disaster movie in which a disgruntled Middle Eastern arms dealer unleashes an attack that, reports a newsreader, “has decimated most of the known landmarks in the British capital”. | Four people wrote London Has Fallen, a new disaster movie in which a disgruntled Middle Eastern arms dealer unleashes an attack that, reports a newsreader, “has decimated most of the known landmarks in the British capital”. |
| So, some good news: it’s only the known ones. Anyone seeking sanctuary should scroll straight to the fourth page of TripAdvisor. Nunhead cemetery will be overrun. | So, some good news: it’s only the known ones. Anyone seeking sanctuary should scroll straight to the fourth page of TripAdvisor. Nunhead cemetery will be overrun. |
| Related: London Has Fallen review: Gerard Butler bromance brews as Big Ben blows | Related: London Has Fallen review: Gerard Butler bromance brews as Big Ben blows |
| In terms of targets, we’re talking St Paul’s, Westminster Abbey, Trafalgar Square, Chelsea Bridge, Buckingham Palace – the top five of any first-timer’s trip to the big smoke. Ever wondered what a Beefeater keeps under his hat? Turns out it’s an AK-47 and a big pile of grudges. Ever wondered why black cabs are that shape? It’s so you can use the doors for decapitation. | In terms of targets, we’re talking St Paul’s, Westminster Abbey, Trafalgar Square, Chelsea Bridge, Buckingham Palace – the top five of any first-timer’s trip to the big smoke. Ever wondered what a Beefeater keeps under his hat? Turns out it’s an AK-47 and a big pile of grudges. Ever wondered why black cabs are that shape? It’s so you can use the doors for decapitation. |
| The Frommer’s approach of these four writers (Chad St John, Creighton Rothenberger, Katrin Benedikt, Christian Gudegast – none fictional, all American) extends to people, too. The attack coincides with the funeral of the prime minister, meaning every world leader is in town. The German is severe and female. The Italian snogging his mistress up Westminster Abbey just as the bombs drop (“Madonna, que suceso?”) The Frenchman has champagne and insouciance; the Japanese frets he’s going to be late, and the Canadian is just a really nice guy. | The Frommer’s approach of these four writers (Chad St John, Creighton Rothenberger, Katrin Benedikt, Christian Gudegast – none fictional, all American) extends to people, too. The attack coincides with the funeral of the prime minister, meaning every world leader is in town. The German is severe and female. The Italian snogging his mistress up Westminster Abbey just as the bombs drop (“Madonna, que suceso?”) The Frenchman has champagne and insouciance; the Japanese frets he’s going to be late, and the Canadian is just a really nice guy. |
| Yet this whittling of national stereotype is at its most efficient when it comes to the Yanks and Limeys. While Gerard Butler’s all-American bodyguard racks up a death count in the hundreds and tells the baddies to “go back to Fuckheadistan”, the local bobbies react with endless understatement to the sight of their city going up in smoke. “Jesus,” says one officer, mildly, as every monitor shows fireballs. “Where is the emergency response unit?” asks another, ever measured, maybe a bit belated. Only once, near the start, do the writers slip up, when someone remarks to the head of the Met – played by Colin Salmon and named, fabulously, Chief Kevin Hazard – that he’s got a big day ahead. “Correction,” he replies: “mega day.” | Yet this whittling of national stereotype is at its most efficient when it comes to the Yanks and Limeys. While Gerard Butler’s all-American bodyguard racks up a death count in the hundreds and tells the baddies to “go back to Fuckheadistan”, the local bobbies react with endless understatement to the sight of their city going up in smoke. “Jesus,” says one officer, mildly, as every monitor shows fireballs. “Where is the emergency response unit?” asks another, ever measured, maybe a bit belated. Only once, near the start, do the writers slip up, when someone remarks to the head of the Met – played by Colin Salmon and named, fabulously, Chief Kevin Hazard – that he’s got a big day ahead. “Correction,” he replies: “mega day.” |
| At the Oscars on Sunday, they could not have had a firmer grip on our traditional national traits | At the Oscars on Sunday, they could not have had a firmer grip on our traditional national traits |
| Cinema is at its keenest when trading in such stereotypes. Its unwillingness to explode them, to suggest someone is more than the coarsest boilerplate, is often seen as a failure – not just by sniffy critics but by the industry, too. Movies such as London Has Fallen, or any other whopping blockbuster, now make more money abroad than they do in the US. China’s box office now rivals America’s. South Korea’s isn’t far off. Yet all countries ultimately seem more concerned with representation than realism. They want their residents shown, but they’re not especially bothered whether they come off as howling cartoons. That goes for us, too. | Cinema is at its keenest when trading in such stereotypes. Its unwillingness to explode them, to suggest someone is more than the coarsest boilerplate, is often seen as a failure – not just by sniffy critics but by the industry, too. Movies such as London Has Fallen, or any other whopping blockbuster, now make more money abroad than they do in the US. China’s box office now rivals America’s. South Korea’s isn’t far off. Yet all countries ultimately seem more concerned with representation than realism. They want their residents shown, but they’re not especially bothered whether they come off as howling cartoons. That goes for us, too. |
| Plus, fiction informs reality. And whether it’s in films or at ceremonies celebrating them, nothing seems to bring out the best in Brits more than Hollywood bombast. At the Oscars on Sunday, they could not have had a firmer grip on our traditional national traits. Sam Smith’s endless string of gaffes – wrongly claiming to be the first openly gay man to win, then saying he’d like to date the first one, not realising he’d died tragically young, etc – were straight out of Four Weddings and a Funeral. | Plus, fiction informs reality. And whether it’s in films or at ceremonies celebrating them, nothing seems to bring out the best in Brits more than Hollywood bombast. At the Oscars on Sunday, they could not have had a firmer grip on our traditional national traits. Sam Smith’s endless string of gaffes – wrongly claiming to be the first openly gay man to win, then saying he’d like to date the first one, not realising he’d died tragically young, etc – were straight out of Four Weddings and a Funeral. |
| There is obviously no one alive more gentle and self-deprecating than Mark Rylance, not just in his speech but afterwards, keeping discreetly mum in the face of Frank (brother of Sylvester) Stallone’s abuse (“Sly won. Mark who? It’s total Hollywood bullshit”) and subsequent apology (“Not enough words on Twitter to apologize to Michael Rylance”). That Sacha Baron Cohen changed into his Ali G costume in the disabled loo so he could defy producers who’d asked him not to appear in character also feels oddly homegrown. You can’t imagine Jim Carrey doing the same. | There is obviously no one alive more gentle and self-deprecating than Mark Rylance, not just in his speech but afterwards, keeping discreetly mum in the face of Frank (brother of Sylvester) Stallone’s abuse (“Sly won. Mark who? It’s total Hollywood bullshit”) and subsequent apology (“Not enough words on Twitter to apologize to Michael Rylance”). That Sacha Baron Cohen changed into his Ali G costume in the disabled loo so he could defy producers who’d asked him not to appear in character also feels oddly homegrown. You can’t imagine Jim Carrey doing the same. |
| But the one who really kept the flag flying was Jenny Beavan, the costume designer who neither made a fuss when Bafta host Stephen Fry called her a “bag lady”, nor when her Oscar win for Mad Max: Fury Road was met by a bizarre applause boycott. Speculation still circulates over why the likes of Spotlight director Tom McCarthy and The Revenant director Alejandro González Iñárritu all but retched, cross-armed, as she passed [see footnote]. Yet their rudeness did throw Beavan’s cheerful unflappability into yet greater relief, as she strolled to the stage, unbashed and unbullied, in her £35 pleather jacket from Marks & Spencer. | |
| Related: Hollywood, take note of Jenny Beavan: this ‘bag lady’ is what creativity is all about | Dreda Say Mitchell | Related: Hollywood, take note of Jenny Beavan: this ‘bag lady’ is what creativity is all about | Dreda Say Mitchell |
| Is such behaviour unique to one nationality? Certainly not. But Beavan told what I think is a telling story at a party later that night, about Charlize Theron praising one of her corsets: “I went all sort of English and coy and said, ‘Oh well, you know, we’ve been trying to make it …’ And she just said, ‘Take the compliment, bitch’ … She’s just very straight-talking, and I just loved it, so I’ve been taking the compliment, bitch, ever since.” | |
| That Beavan sailed through her big day with such humour and circumspection, a little bite beneath the politeness, makes me not just proud to be British but eager to fulfil every happy aspect of national cliche. Sorry – correction. Mega day. | That Beavan sailed through her big day with such humour and circumspection, a little bite beneath the politeness, makes me not just proud to be British but eager to fulfil every happy aspect of national cliche. Sorry – correction. Mega day. |
| • The following footnote was appended on 3 March 2016: after this article was published, Alejandro González Iñárritu issued a statement pointing out that, while he was not clapping as Jenny Beavan walked down the aisle past him and other guests, he did applaud her as she ascended the stairs to the stage. |