Pride

Director: Matthew Warchus
Cast: Imelda Staunton, Bill Nighy, Dominic West
Length: 120 min
Country: UK

How many times have you experienced spontaneous applause at the end of a film? If the marketing men are to be believed, this isn’t so much a phenomenon, but a common occurrence, in line with the trailer and poster quotes that tell us that we’ll see the ‘film of the year’ (every week) and that it’s a real ‘crowd-pleaser’ (every other week). In truth, genuine applause, drawn from affection and admiration for the film you’ve just watched with room full of other people is rare. Such is the reputation of Matthew Warchus’ Pride as a ‘feel-good’ film, I already knew people had been rounding off watching it with an ovation of their own. Sure enough, a few days ago, I experienced the very same thing for myself as the credits rolled.

Screened as part of Directors’ Fortnight at Cannes, and recipient of the Queer Palm award, Pride is set in 1984, during the grip of the miners strike, and tells the true story of the LGSM (Lesbians and Gays Support the Miners) lead by Mark Ashton (Ben Schnetzer) and Mike Jackson (Joseph Gilgun), and their unlikely alliance with the Welsh mining community of Dulais, formed as they strive to raise money and awareness for their cause in the face of much resistance. As Mark and the rest of the LGSM fight for the miners, Dulais in turn fight for them to be embraced by the rest of the village, with miner Dai Davies (Paddy Considine), outspoken matriarch Hefina (Imelda Staunton), and young mum Sian (Jessica Gunning), standing as the lone voices of dissent. Our way into the story comes through the fictitious addition of shy teenager Joe (George MacKay). Drawn to Mark and Mike at his first pride parade, he finds himself tagging along taking pictures until he’s embraced by their friends, including bookseller Gethin (Andrew Scott), and his actor partner Jonathan (Dominic West), and worldly-wise Steph (Faye Marsay), who takes Joe under her wing as he enters into a double life away from his family home. But that’s really only the beginning of what Pride offers to Joe and its audience.

The characters’ solidarity gives us hope,
but it also gives us faith in humanity when
there seems little to be had.

Why then has this film provoked such an  overwhelmingly positive response? The answer is a simple one. The world of 1984 has much in common with the world of 2014. Pride is a film about the marriage of the personal and the political in all senses of the phrase, but more than that, it’s about the unity between human beings coming together for a common cause, in spite of their differences. It sounds trite and positively utopian when couched in such terms, but in our current climate, defined by the fallout of the economic downturn, disenfranchisement with authority, and social isolation despite the fact technology allows us to connect with more people than ever before, there’s something incredibly inspiring about all the LGSM and the people of Dulais managed to achieve against the odds. Their show of solidarity gives us hope, but it also gives us faith in humanity when there seems little to be had.

Given the value of its message, the film’s treatment at the hands of the Motion Picture Association of America (MPAA) – giving it an NC-17 rating, meaning no one under 17 can see it without a parent or guardian – flies in the face of everything the film stands for, and it’s a great shame the film’s potential audience has been limited thanks to such decisions. Quite simply, it’s the kind of film that needed to be made, and demands to be seen, but it’s also one that couldn’t have been made before now. Its timeliness is part of what makes Pride so affecting and important. Yes, it’s a comedy, yes, Warchus has crammed his film with a top-line cast anchored by Imelda Staunton and Bill Nighy, which gives it the ‘best of British’ quality that was contingent in the success of The Full Monty and Brassed Off before it, but it shouldn’t be dismissed as something light and inconsequential.

The cast assembled here have been chosen for a reason, and they all bring considerable skill to their roles. They relish the comedy but also give the right weight to the material when things turn more serious, particularly Ben Schnetzer and Jessica Gunning. Woven within the rich fabric of this film are real people with real stories; who were brave and courageous in a time where it would’ve been easier to stay silent and endure. It proves in no uncertain terms that there’s strength in numbers, but the most power comes from what we contribute to the world every day with every single person we meet, for good or ill.

Make no mistake, the film isn’t all sunshine and rainbows, and certainly doesn’t shy away from the ugly or unpalatable, including unprovoked abuse and attacks. Pride does look back at things with some level of nostalgia, but it’s also not afraid to talk back to us either. First-time writer Stephen Beresford’s script balances the shifts in tonality well, and by the time those darker moments appear, we know the characters well, and you feel it all the more for that knowledge. There are moments that will make you laugh out loud – the broad stroke comedy of middle-aged ladies in a bondage club is just one of many standout scenes. But there are softer, quieter momroents will make you cry because of their heartrending honesty. Confrontations and reunions that other films would’ve amped up to melodramatic degrees are often dealt with via fade-outs, purely because Beresford knows his audience. Either we know someone like Joe or Gethin, or we are them.

The passage of time and the progress of LGBT rights has rendered some of the opinions and behaviours expressed throughout the film ridiculous and it’s easy to forget how much has changed, but such attitudes still exist. It’s to Beresford’s credit that he also underlines the fact that acceptance is a two-way evolutionary process that’s never truly complete. There’s always more work to do, and in that respect, Pride is just a brick in wall, but it’s an important one, laying the foundation for more films like it to be made, regardless of classification censorship.

If you do get the chance to see it you’ll quickly learn that Pride lives up to its name. Applause likely still ringing in your ears, you’ll leave the cinema with much to think about, a renewed sense of purpose, and more faith in humanity than when you arrived, but you’ll also be proud that British cinema can make and export films like this. No one does it better

Feature Image: Copyright Nicola Dove