The Mercy (12A.)
Directed by James Marsh.
Starring Colin Firth, Rachel Weisz, David Thewlis, Ken Stott, Mark Gatiss and Adrian Schiller. 100 mins
The world is full of people quoting Monty Python lines at you, usually to no good end. But during this telling of the story of amateur sailor Donald Crowhurst's ill-conceived attempt to compete in the 1968 Sunday Times Single Handed Round The World Yacht Race, I was constantly reminded of a lesser quoted but very poignant line from Life Of Brian: “You silly sods,” spoken by Brian on the event of his crucifixion having just seen Judean People's Front Suicide squad kill themselves at his feet.
Crowhurst (Firth) is an awfully British, terribly noble, but incredibly silly sod. He has everything a man might reasonably hope for: a big house, a decent career, a brood of well adjusted Enid Blyton-esque children and is married to a Nigellarant Rachel Weisz. What more could a man reasonably want? Nothing. But a silly sod? Glory, adventure against improbable odds and a demonstration of his very British gutsiness. Inspired by hearing Sir Francis Chichester (Simon McBurney) speak at a boat show about sailing around the world single-handed, he decides to enter the race in a boat built to his designs, as a way to showcase various gadgets invented by him.
His tragedy is that of a man whose foolishness surpasses his foolhardiness. He isn't backed into a corner, he hurtles himself into it, employing a press agent (Thewlis, who after his performance in the last season of Fargo seems to have really cornered the market as the embodiment of evil) to garner a number of sponsorships. Having signed away his house to secure further backing from caravan king Stott, he has no honourable way to back out when he realises that his boat will not be ready in time for the October 31st deadline for contestants to be at sea. Plucky Brit setting off into rough seas into a leaky vessel and buoyed only by a sense of patriotic entitlement – yes, this is, of course, a Brexit allegory.
The Mercy has proved pretty divisive with audiences: heaps of viewers find it dull and boring and have no empathy with Crowhurst. These people are apt to compare it negatively with a Robert Redford film from a few years back, All Is Lost, which covered similar ground. That was a starker, more brutal look at solo survival at sea, and Marsh's film doesn't have its technical expertise. This, for me, is more touching though, thanks to Firth's understated nobility and the realisation that our nation's famed, celebrated tradition of fearless, eccentric, against-the-odds heroism is built on the ranks of forgotten uncelebrated, fearless, eccentric, against-the-odds failures and their stiff upper lip martyrdoms.
Directed by James Marsh.
Starring Colin Firth, Rachel Weisz, David Thewlis, Ken Stott, Mark Gatiss and Adrian Schiller. 100 mins
The world is full of people quoting Monty Python lines at you, usually to no good end. But during this telling of the story of amateur sailor Donald Crowhurst's ill-conceived attempt to compete in the 1968 Sunday Times Single Handed Round The World Yacht Race, I was constantly reminded of a lesser quoted but very poignant line from Life Of Brian: “You silly sods,” spoken by Brian on the event of his crucifixion having just seen Judean People's Front Suicide squad kill themselves at his feet.
Crowhurst (Firth) is an awfully British, terribly noble, but incredibly silly sod. He has everything a man might reasonably hope for: a big house, a decent career, a brood of well adjusted Enid Blyton-esque children and is married to a Nigellarant Rachel Weisz. What more could a man reasonably want? Nothing. But a silly sod? Glory, adventure against improbable odds and a demonstration of his very British gutsiness. Inspired by hearing Sir Francis Chichester (Simon McBurney) speak at a boat show about sailing around the world single-handed, he decides to enter the race in a boat built to his designs, as a way to showcase various gadgets invented by him.
His tragedy is that of a man whose foolishness surpasses his foolhardiness. He isn't backed into a corner, he hurtles himself into it, employing a press agent (Thewlis, who after his performance in the last season of Fargo seems to have really cornered the market as the embodiment of evil) to garner a number of sponsorships. Having signed away his house to secure further backing from caravan king Stott, he has no honourable way to back out when he realises that his boat will not be ready in time for the October 31st deadline for contestants to be at sea. Plucky Brit setting off into rough seas into a leaky vessel and buoyed only by a sense of patriotic entitlement – yes, this is, of course, a Brexit allegory.
The Mercy has proved pretty divisive with audiences: heaps of viewers find it dull and boring and have no empathy with Crowhurst. These people are apt to compare it negatively with a Robert Redford film from a few years back, All Is Lost, which covered similar ground. That was a starker, more brutal look at solo survival at sea, and Marsh's film doesn't have its technical expertise. This, for me, is more touching though, thanks to Firth's understated nobility and the realisation that our nation's famed, celebrated tradition of fearless, eccentric, against-the-odds heroism is built on the ranks of forgotten uncelebrated, fearless, eccentric, against-the-odds failures and their stiff upper lip martyrdoms.
