Tag: historical heroines

Calamity Jane

  By

★★★
“Calamity Plain.”

Calamity Jane and Wild Bill Hickok are two of the most well-known names in the culture of the Wild West, though the reality of both individuals is almost impossible to separate from the myths which surround them. So it’s kinda pointless to complain about historical accuracy in films which focus on them. Better just accept them as effectively being fictional entities, which can be used for whatever purpose a filmmaker desires. Here, it’s the death of Wild Bill (Stephen Amell, best known as TV’s Arrow) in a poker game, which sets his girlfriend Jane (Rickards, also from the same series) off. She goes on the trail of Jack McCall (Allon), the scumbag responsible, who has understandably opted to depart Deadwood. 

Complicating matters is that Jane is in custody herself, having been brought to the frontier town by Sheriff Mason (Rozen), to stand trial for murder. She escapes his custody – as Chris pointed out, Mason is a bit crap at the whole law enforcement thing – and heads off after McCall and his equally scummy brother. Mason assembles a (again, rather feeble and unimpressive) posse to go after the two suspected killers. Most of the second half is an extended pursuit through some very scenic landscapes, it must be said. There are a fair number of moderate diversions before the inevitable and entirely expected confrontation between Jane and Jack, as she seeks to get vengeance, or perhaps justice, for her murdered lover.

I think I like the characters here most. Rickards gives a winning portrayal as Jane, despite an unnerving similarity to one of the members of Bananarama (perhaps that’s just me though), and the supporting cast also do a good job of inhabiting their roles. It is fairly straightforward: black hats and white hats, with not much grey in terms of morality. In this way, it feels like a throwback to an earlier time. Along similar lines, while the language is fairly ripe, with a good number of F-bombs, the violence is very restrained by comparison. I feel if a film is going to have an R-rating, the makers need to embrace that artistic freedom fully, yet outside of the cursing, this would likely merit only a PG. 

Among the supporting cast, the best is Abigail (Faia), who is entirely mad, and all the more entertaining for it. She boasts of the multiple people she’s killed, keeping a count with scars on her arms – I’d love to see a film of her back-story. She and Jane end up in a very nasty brawl, likely the action highlight of the film, with everything else being gunfights of the “Bang-bang, you’re dead” variety. While it’s all well enough assembled, there isn’t much indication of ambition or desire to tell a new story, or even an old one from an interesting direction. As a result, this only intermittently catches fire, preferring mostly to meander along safely, well within the speed limit and with its seat-belt securely fastened.

Dir: Terry Miles
Star: Emily Bett Rickards, Tim Rozon, Primo Allon, Priscilla Faia

1572: The Battle of Haarlem

  By

★★★
“Better the devil Kenau…”

This feels a little like a Dutch cross between the stories of Joan of Arc and William Wallace. It’s a couple of centuries later than either, taking place (as the non-Dutch title states!) in the 16th century. The Spanish armies of the Catholic King Philip II were sweeping across Europe, reaching as far North as the Netherlands. Some cities capitulated; others resisted. Among the latter was Haarlem (to use the Dutch spelling), where legend states a woman called Kenau Simonsdochter Hasselaer led an army of 300 women in defense of the city. The more prosaic reality is that she may have helped in fortifying the defense, though the amount of reliable historical data about her is scant in the extreme.

When has that ever stopped film-maker – hence the Wallace comparisons, who is similarly lost in the mists of time. The Joan of Arc similarities are in the heroic defense of her homeland against foreign invaders, though there’s less of a religious subtext for Kenau. In this version, one of her daughters, Gertrude (Smit) is burned at the stake after being caught vandalizing a Catholic church, and it’s partly this which triggers Kenau into action: I guess that’s a little like Boudicea as well. Initially, she is reluctant to take action, and the city is almost sold out to the Spanish by its corrupt leader. However, it’s all almost too convenient in the subsequent events, which portray Kenau as a brilliant strategist, always one step ahead of the enemy.

To a certain extent, this is fair enough: it’s a heroic story, painted in bold strokes, without much subtlety. The Spaniards, especially, come over as borderline caricatures, all lecherous villainy. About Kenau’s sole weakness is being over-protective of her other daughter, Kathelijne (Harmsen), refusing to let her become her own person, romance a hunky mercenary soldier, or assist in some of the more dangerous missions, such as sneaking out of the city to hijack a supply convoy. Otherwise, there’s precious little resistance, with the wonderfully-named governor, Wigbolt Ripperda (Atsma), putting up only a token argument against Kenau running things. There are likely one too many heroic cliches, such as the rousing speech she gives, when the women have a chance to leave the besieged city.

If questionable from a historical perspective, I still have to admit I was entertained to a fine degree, with the production values being better than I expected – Hungary stood in for the Netherlands during shooting. There is no shortage of action, either on the battlefield, or in the shape of other incidents. Even as someone who knows almost nothing about the history of this period, it’s all rather rousing. Hendricks delivers a sufficiently committed performance, and this helps paper over some of the points where her character feels like it came from about 400 years later in history. Not a movie you want to think about too much, I suspect – especially since the truth is that Haarlem ended up surrendering, with thousands of its residents beheaded or drowned. Awkward.

Dir: Maarten Treurniet
Star: Monic Hendrickx, Sallie Harmsen, Barry Atsma, Lisa Smit
a.k.a. Kenau

Boudica: Queen of War

  By

★★★
“Fury woad.”

The latest take on one of Britain’s greatest historical heroines has come in for a fair bit of critical flak. But I really did not think it was all that bad. Sure, it plays fast and loose with historical accuracy (Christianity wasn’t a thing in Britain at the time). However, we’re dealing with someone about whom there is very little reliable record. Why not throw in chunks of the Arthurian mythos, if it might make for a more interesting end product? The usual basics are there. Queen of the Iceni Boudica (Kurylenko) loses her husband (Standen), and subsequently falls foul of the occupying Roman Empire. She raises an army, leads a rebellion, kicks Roman butt for a while, but eventually goes down, fighting. That’s the Cliff Notes version. 

The variations are in the details, and the  versions previously reviewed each take a different approach. For example, Warrior Queen (2003) leaned into the drama. This goes the other way, coming to life most in the battle sequences. It should be no surprise: Johnson is a former stuntman, who has turned to directing action films. He’s best known for excellent Scott Adkins vehicle Avengement, but here we previously reviewed his war film, Hell Hath No Fury. There isn’t the budget here for the necessary scale – the Iceni army reportedly numbered well into six figures, but when Boudica is giving her inspirational speech, it’s more like a soccer mom offering half-time motivation. Yet it makes up for this in gory intensity: this is certainly the most blood-drenched version of the story ever told.

It does take its time getting there. Initially, Boudica is not a warrior queen at all. It’s only after she gets a sword handed down from previous generations that she begins to head in that direction. She encounters a female fighter (Martin), who regards Boudica as the fulfillment of prophecy. It’s when the Roman’s take over, flogging and branding her, then doing worse to her daughters (an angle which is handled weirdly,  yet not ineffectively), that Kurylenko becomes the bad-ass Brit bitch we expected from the likes of Sentinelle. She paints up her face and takes the battle to the enemy, in a way which is up-close and personal.

At least for the first few battles, the Romans won’t know what hit them, and this absolutely doesn’t soft-pedal the brutality of hand-to-hand combat. It’s a shame there’s some stuff around the periphery that doesn’t work so well, such as a mercenary called Wulfgar (Franzén), who speaks modern-sounding French – was that even a thing in 61 AD? – and appears to have the hots for Boudica. There’s also the way her sword seems almost magical, which does perhaps take away from her intrinsically heroic nature, and doesn’t add much. I think if you took the best elements of both this and Warrior Queen, you might have something close to definitive. This can provide Kurylenko and a solid eye on the action. That’s still good enough for me. 

Dir: Jesse V. Johnson
Star: Olga Kurylenko, Clive Standen, Peter Franzén, Lucy Martin

Iron Jawed Angels

  By

★★
“Largely unable to get out the vote.”

There’s a fascinating story to be told about the struggle by American women to get the vote. Unfortunately, this isn’t it. Rather than being content to tell the story of the battle and those who fought in it, von Garnier (a German director who gave us Bandits)  seems to want to force these women from the 1910’s into modern feminist configurations. This position is set out particularly clearly in a deliberately anachronistic soundtrack, which at times makes the story feel more like Hamilton. And to be clear, that’s not a good thing. The focus is campaigner Alice Paul (Swank), beginning in 1912 when she returns from England, her passions set on fire by the work there of Emmeline Pankhurst, as documented in the rather better Suffragette.

Alice initially seeks to work with the leading American group, the National American Woman’s Suffrage Association, led by Carrie Chapman Catt (Huston), only to find their methods not radical enough for her tastes. This eventually causes her to form her own group, and begin protesting against President Woodrow Wilson, including a daily picket of the White House. Matters come to a head after the United States enters World War I, with such protests being seen as unpatriotic. This leads to Paul and other women being arrested on dubious charges, and after beginning a hunger strike in protest, the women are force-fed. Eventually, Wilson is convinced to support their cause, with the 19th Amendment, giving women the right to vote, being passed in 1920.

My main problem is that Paul never feels an authentic character. She comes over more like a 21st century woman transplanted to the time, which as result, makes her story feel almost like a bad episode from the current incarnation of Doctor Who. It chooses to manipulate history purely for dramatic purposes, such as shoehorning in a romantic relationship with a newspaper cartoonist. Yet for all the obviously liberal credentials inherent in the story, according to the film, only one black woman supported the suffrage movement – and just for a minute or two, before exiting the film. Awkward, that.

Despite the above, and the film in general being a stylistic mess, you’d have to try particularly hard to screw up the underlying story, which is generally an empowering and rousing one. You’d have to be a colder heart than I, not to feel aggrieved by the treatment Paul and the other women suffer in pursuit of their cause, and the film does manage to do these elements justice, simply by reining back in the attempts to jazz things up. I was amused (and slightly pleased) by the disdain of NAWSA towards their bomb-flinging sisters across the Atlantic, who were rather keener on direct action. Though the main moment which amazed me was the scene where President Wilson walked out of the front gate of the White House, tipping his hat to the protestors as he passed them. Truly a different era.

Dir: Katja von Garnier
Star: Hilary Swank, Frances O’Connor, Julia Ormond, Anjelica Huston

Voevoda

  By

★★½
“Never mind the Bulgars”

Well, at the very least, we get to cross another country off the map, in the Action Heroine Atlas. This comes from Bulgaria, and seems to have been a labour of love for Sophia, who co-wrote, directed, produced and starred in it (her daughter plays the younger version of the lead). You don’t see that often, especially in our chosen field. Yet I suspect it could end up having caused more problems than it solves. I’ve often found that films where one person wears so many hats, end up being too “close” to be entirely successful. By which I mean, the maker is so involved they can’t see the flaws, when another pair of eyes might have been able to identify and correct these issues.

I believe this is based on a historical figure. Though I say this based almost entirely on an IMDb review which says, “Rumena was a real person and we know what happened to her.” Well, perhaps Bulgarians do. I have no clue, and was unable to find much out on the Internet: even the film’s website was vague on details. I am also largely ignorant – and, I freely admit, this is a me problem – about Bulgarian history. It seems that at the time this was set in the 19th century, the country was occupied by the Ottoman Empire. That’s about all I’ve got, and can’t say I learned much more from the movie.

The heroine is Roumena (Sophia), who is targeted by the Ottoman occupiers, and subsequently heads off into the mountains and woods, to become the titular leader of a group of bandits and rebels. From there, she wages a guerilla war on the Ottomans. For instance, after they kidnap a young village woman, she and the rest of her cheta kidnap the two sons of the commanding officer, in order to exchange them. This insurgency eventually leads to the Ottomans sending a whole mass of troops after her. Yet Roumena’s example has also helped foster a desire for independence in the locals – albeit at the cost of effectively having to abandon her young son, so that he can have a safe, and somewhat normal childhood.

It’s all quite impenetrable, with limited dialogue and largely non-professional actors. While this likely does enhance the realism, it feels like it comes at the cost of genuine drama. The saving grace is Sophia, who cuts a interesting figure as Roumena: all fierce and unwilling to compromise in any aspect of her life. She wins leadership of the cheta by, literally, wrestling for the position, and takes no shit from anyone. Yet at 126 minutes long, it feels too much of a slog through the wilderness, with a permanently surly supporting cast who are largely distinguishable from each other, only by their facial hair. If you can imagine a dour version of the Robin Hood legend, in which Robin gets betrayed by his merry men, then you’ll be along the right lines.

Dir: Zornitsa Sophia
Star: Zornitsa Sophia, Valeri Yordanov, Goran Gunchev, Dimitar Trokanov

Amy Johnson: Britain’s Amelia Earhart

  By

This article was inspired by my mild irritation at documentary film Fly Like a Girl which, while a worthy item, was almost exclusively American-focused. You could have watched it all the way through, and come to the conclusion that Americans not only invented flight, they were the only ones to take to the air over the following century. That isn’t the case. Names like Jean Batten (New Zealand), Nancy Bird Walton (Australia), Hélène Dutrieu (Belgium) or Beryl Markham (Britain), all deserve recognition for their pioneering roles, rather than it being just Amelia Earhart. Which brings us to Amy Johnson who, both in life and death, was not all that dissimilar from “Lady Lindy”: shattering the glass ceiling for female aviators, breaking records and achieving huge national fame, before disappearing in a plane accident, with neither woman’s body being recovered.

It was a different era in which Earhart and Johnson operated: the world was still being explored, with many feats remaining to be accomplished. It was only in 1927 that the first solo trans-Atlantic flight occurred, and society was eager for similar examples of derring-do. Amy had grown up in a comfortably middle-class home in the North of England, going to university, but was unable to find a career that satisfied her. But she loved to fly, initially as a pastime, but with increasing fervour, getting her pilot’s license in 1929, and also becoming the first British woman with a ground engineer’s license. She began planning to be the first woman to fly solo from England to Australia, hoping to beat the existing record for the trip, Bert Hinkler’s 15½ days. It was a journey of 11,000 miles, despite her longest flight to this point being just a couple of hundred, from London to the family home in Hull.

The necessary financial backing proved hard to obtain, but she eventually raised the necessary funds with the help of her father, plus oil tycoon and aviation supporter Lord Wakefield, founder of the company which would became Castrol Oil. On May 5th, 1930, she took off from Croydon Airport, with little fanfare or attention. Among her equipment were a revolver, to fend off bandits, and a letter offering to pay a ransom – presumably if the revolver didn’t work. However, brigands proved not the biggest danger she’d encounter. She was forced down in the desert by a sandstorm as she approached Baghdad, with her plane stalling out twice. “I had never been so frightened in my life,” she said of the experience.

Repeated mechanical problems, many of which were caused by the repeated failure of an undercarriage strut, also threatened to derail Johnson’s attempt. But with good fortune and innovative thinking, she was able to continue. Perhaps the greatest example came in Burma, after she ripped up her wing in a rough landing, with no replacement cloth to hand. However, after the First World War, a stock of airplane fabric had been left behind, and recycled into shirts by the local women. Amy was able to re-recycle the shirts back into the necessary material to complete repairs and carry on. By now, word of her exploits was spreading, and she began to be feted on her arrival at each stop. Back in Britain, too, the papers began to report on her exploits, and got into competition for the rights to Amy’s story. The Daily Mail won, with a bid of two thousand pounds.

On May 24, she landed in the northern Australian city of Darwin. Johnson had not beaten the record, taking 19½ days for her flight, but had captured the public’s imagination and interest, in a way few women of the time managed to do. A six-week tour of Australia followed, during which she met her future husband, James Mollison, for the first time. She was equally celebrated on a slower, less arduous journey back to Britain, finally returning to Croydon on August 4. Although Johnson dutifully put up with all the banquets and speeches, she was never comfortable with her fame or the adulation, later saying, “I hated all the theatres, cinemas, first nights, and parties. It’s an unnatural and artificial life. I’m glad those days are over.”


The flight remained Amy’s defining moment, though it was far from her only, or even most successful, adventure. After marrying Mollison in 1931, she promptly broke his record for the solo flight from London to Cape Town, South Africa at just under four days and seven hours. With co-pilot C.S. Humphrey, she also set the UK-Japan mark, flying seven thousand miles in ten days. Finally, in May 1936, she reclaimed the Cape Town record, with a flight of three days, six hours and 26 minutes. But Amy simply lived to fly, regardless of the distance. The disappearance of her friend Amelia Earhart in 1937, did dampen her enthusiasm somewhat, though she found a new passion for unpowered flight, taking up gliding and appreciating the tranquility it offered.

World War II broke out in 1939, and Amy wanted to do her part. While Britain would not let women join their air force (unlike the Russians ended up allowing), they were allowed to be part of the Air Transport Auxiliary (ATA). Their duties included moving planes around the country as needed, such as from the factory to the air fields from which they would operate. Amy signed up, receiving a salary of six pounds per week. But on January 5, 1941 – two years to the day after Earhart was officially pronounced dead – Amy took her final flight. It appears she lost her way in fog, on a flight from Blackpool to Oxfordshire, and bailed out of her plane, but landed in the River Thames and drowned. Her body was never recovered, but she remains a heroic figure, representing courage, perseverance, dedication and humility in equal measure.

Below are a selection of film clips documenting her life and death, including sections of 1932 short Dual Control, which featured both Johnson and her than husband, Jim Mollison.

There have been two feature films based on Johnson’s life, made over 40 years apart, and interesting as much for their differences as anything else. Below, you’ll find reviews of both movies.

They Flew Alone

By Jim McLennan

★★½
“Puts the plain in aeroplane.”

This bio-pic of aviator Amy Johnson appeared in British cinemas a scant eighteen months after she disappeared over the River Thames. That put its release squarely in the middle of World War II, and explains its nature which, in the later stages, could certainly be called propaganda. There’s not many other ways to explain pointed lines like “Our great sailors won the freedom of the seas. And it’s up to us to win the freedom of the skies. This is first said during a speech given by Johnson in Australia, then repeated at the end, over a rousing montage of military marching and flying. I almost expected it to end with, “Do you want to know more?”

From the start, the film does a decent job of depicting Johnson (Neagle) as a likable heroine, who refuses to bow to convention – she’s first seen rebelling against the straw hat that’s part of her school uniform. We then follow her through university, though the degree apparently only qualifies her for jobs in a haberdashery or as a secretary (must have been a gender studies…). Unhappy with these dead-end occupations, she takes up flying, earning her pilot’s license and buying her own plane. It’s about here that the film really hits trouble, because director Wilson has no idea of how to convey the thrill of free flight. Endless series of newspaper headlines, ticker tapes and cheering crowds is about all we get, along with obvious rear-projection shots of Amy looking slightly concerned in the cockpit.

It’s almost a relief when the romance kicks in, represented by fellow pilot Jim Mollison (Newtron), who woos Amy while looking to set flight records of his own. Problem is, he’s a bit of a dick: quite why Amy falls for him is never clear. It’s clearly a mistake, with his drinking, womanising (or as close as they could depict in the forties!) and resentment at her greater fame and desire for independence eventually dooming the marriage – in another of those newspaper headlines. However, there is one decent sequence, when the husband and wife fly as a pair from Britain to America, largely through dense fog. This is edited nicely and, in contrast to all other flights, does generate some tension.

The bland approach includes Johnson’s final mission, depicted here as her running out of fuel while seeking somewhere to land in fog, bailing out, and drowning in the river. Cue the montage mentioned above, though the film does redeem itself with a final caption, worth repeating in full. “To all the Amy Johnsons of today, who have fought and won the battle of the straw hat – who have driven through centuries of convention – who have abandoned the slogan ‘safety first’ in their fight for freedom from fear – from want – from persecution – we dedicate this film.” It’s an honourable thought, considerably deeper and more well-executed than something which generally feels like it was rushed out, without much effort put into it.

Dir: Herbert Wilcox
Star: Anna Neagle, Robert Newton, Edward Chapman, Joan Kemp-Welch
a.k.a. Wings and the Woman

Amy

By Jim McLennan

★★★
“What rules?”

It’s interesting to compare the approach taken in this biopic of aviation heroine Amy Johnson, made in 1984, with the one over 40 years earlier (and shortly after her death) in They Flew Alone, and note the similarities and differences. Both are relatively restrained in budget. The earlier one because it was a low-cost production, made during a war; the later one because it was made for television – and the BBC at that, never a broadcaster known for its profligate spending! As a result, both are limited in terms of the spectacle they can offer, and end up opting to concentrate on Amy as a character. It’s the cheaper approach.

This benefits from a little more distance, and doesn’t need to paint an almost beatific picture of its subject for patriotic propaganda purposes. It begins with Amy (Walter) already fully grown up and seeking to raise funds for her record-setting flight to Australia, despite only a hundred hours of solo experience. Actually, 102, as she points out to a potential sponsor, also delivering the line above. when it’s pointed out she’s not even supposed to be in the hangar. The film does a somewhat better job of capturing Amy in flight, with wing-mounted camerawork that’s an improvement over the obvious rear-projection used in Alone. Yet there’s still too much reliance on newspaper headlines, to avoid having to spend money, though there is some deft use, of what’s either genuine newsreel footage or artfully re-created, sepia facsimiles.

There is a similar focus on her failed marriage to fellow aviator, Jim Mollinson (Francis, who really does not sound Scottish at all), and he doesn’t come off much better than the character did in Alone. Jim is portrayed again as a drunken womanizer, though this version plays down the idea of him becoming fed-up at being overshadowed by Johnson’s exploits. It feels like there’s a slight hint of a romantic relationship between Johnson and earlier co-pilot Jack Humphreys (Pugh). There’s also a statement that she had an operation to prevent her from having children, which I had not heard before. But it does depict Amy as quickly becoming fed up with the endless appearances required by her Daily Mail contract post-Australia flight, which seems accurate: she was happier out of the public eye.

The biggest difference between the two films is probably the way they depict her death. This… simply doesn’t. It ends instead, in a 1940 meeting with her ex-husband, while they were both ferrying planes around Britain for the Air Transport Auxiliary. Barbs are traded, and Jim seems annoyed when a fan comes up seeking Amy’s autograph and ignoring him completely. She leaves for her flight, despite being told regulations won’t let her take off due to the conditions. “What rules?” she says, before a caption details her death in 1941. It’s understated, and that’s in line with the approach taken here – perhaps too much so. While I think it is slightly better than Alone, this feels mostly due to better technical aspects. I still can’t feel either film gave me a true understanding of what she was like, or what made her tick.

Dir: Nat Crosby
Star: Harriet Walter, Clive Francis, George A. Cooper, Robert Pugh

They Flew Alone

  By

★★½
“Puts the plain in aeroplane.”

This bio-pic of aviator Amy Johnson appeared in British cinemas a scant eighteen months after she disappeared over the River Thames. That put its release squarely in the middle of World War II, and explains its nature which, in the later stages, could certainly be called propaganda. There’s not many other ways to explain pointed lines like “Our great sailors won the freedom of the seas. And it’s up to us to win the freedom of the skies. This is first said during a speech given by Johnson in Australia, then repeated at the end, over a rousing montage of military marching and flying. I almost expected it to end with, “Do you want to know more?”

From the start, the film does a decent job of depicting Johnson (Neagle) as a likable heroine, who refuses to bow to convention – she’s first seen rebelling against the straw hat that’s part of her school uniform. We then follow her through university, though the degree apparently only qualifies her for jobs in a haberdashery or as a secretary (must have been a gender studies…). Unhappy with these dead-end occupations, she takes up flying, earning her pilot’s license and buying her own plane. It’s about here that the film really hits trouble, because director Wilson has no idea of how to convey the thrill of free flight. Endless series of newspaper headlines, ticker tapes and cheering crowds is about all we get, along with obvious rear-projection shots of Amy looking slightly concerned in the cockpit.

It’s almost a relief when the romance kicks in, represented by fellow pilot Jim Mollison (Newtron), who woos Amy while looking to set flight records of his own. Problem is, he’s a bit of a dick: quite why Amy falls for him is never clear. It’s clearly a mistake, with his drinking, womanising (or as close as they could depict in the forties!) and resentment at her greater fame and desire for independence eventually dooming the marriage – in another of those newspaper headlines. However, there is one decent sequence, when the husband and wife fly as a pair from Britain to America, largely through dense fog. This is edited nicely and, in contrast to all other flights, does generate some tension.

The bland approach includes Johnson’s final mission, depicted here as her running out of fuel while seeking somewhere to land in fog, bailing out, and drowning in the river. Cue the montage mentioned above, though the film does redeem itself with a final caption, worth repeating in full. “To all the Amy Johnsons of today, who have fought and won the battle of the straw hat – who have driven through centuries of convention – who have abandoned the slogan ‘safety first’ in their fight for freedom from fear – from want – from persecution – we dedicate this film.” It’s an honourable thought, considerably deeper and more well-executed than something which generally feels like it was rushed out, without much effort put into it.

Dir: Herbert Wilcox
Star: Anna Neagle, Robert Newton, Edward Chapman, Joan Kemp-Welch
a.k.a. Wings and the Woman

Amy

  By

★★★
“What rules?”

It’s interesting to compare the approach taken in this biopic of aviation heroine Amy Johnson, made in 1984, with the one over 40 years earlier (and shortly after her death) in They Flew Alone, and note the similarities and differences. Both are relatively restrained in budget. The earlier one because it was a low-cost production, made during a war; the later one because it was made for television – and the BBC at that, never a broadcaster known for its profligate spending! As a result, both are limited in terms of the spectacle they can offer, and end up opting to concentrate on Amy as a character. It’s the cheaper approach.

This benefits from a little more distance, and doesn’t need to paint an almost beatific picture of its subject for patriotic propaganda purposes. It begins with Amy (Walter) already fully grown up and seeking to raise funds for her record-setting flight to Australia, despite only a hundred hours of solo experience. Actually, 102, as she points out to a potential sponsor, also delivering the line above. when it’s pointed out she’s not even supposed to be in the hangar. The film does a somewhat better job of capturing Amy in flight, with wing-mounted camerawork that’s an improvement over the obvious rear-projection used in Alone. Yet there’s still too much reliance on newspaper headlines, to avoid having to spend money, though there is some deft use, of what’s either genuine newsreel footage or artfully re-created, sepia facsimiles.

There is a similar focus on her failed marriage to fellow aviator, Jim Mollinson (Francis, who really does not sound Scottish at all), and he doesn’t come off much better than the character did in Alone. Jim is portrayed again as a drunken womanizer, though this version plays down the idea of him becoming fed-up at being overshadowed by Johnson’s exploits. It feels like there’s a slight hint of a romantic relationship between Johnson and earlier co-pilot Jack Humphreys (Pugh). There’s also a statement that she had an operation to prevent her from having children, which I had not heard before. But it does depict Amy as quickly becoming fed up with the endless appearances required by her Daily Mail contract post-Australia flight, which seems accurate: she was happier out of the public eye.

The biggest difference between the two films is probably the way they depict her death. This… simply doesn’t. It ends instead, in a 1940 meeting with her ex-husband, while they were both ferrying planes around Britain for the Air Transport Auxiliary. Barbs are traded, and Jim seems annoyed when a fan comes up seeking Amy’s autograph and ignoring him completely. She leaves for her flight, despite being told regulations won’t let her take off due to the conditions. “What rules?” she says, before a caption details her death in 1941. It’s understated, and that’s in line with the approach taken here – perhaps too much so. While I think it is slightly better than Alone, this feels mostly due to better technical aspects. I still can’t feel either film gave me a true understanding of what she was like, or what made her tick.

Dir: Nat Crosby
Star: Harriet Walter, Clive Francis, George A. Cooper, Robert Pugh

The Adventures of Maid Marian

  By

★★★
“How do you solve a problem like Maria-n…?”

The above rating reflects my deep-held tolerance for low budget cinema. If a film is made with heart, I’m generally prepared to overlook, to some degree, technical shortcomings. Both sides of that equation are present here, in a somewhat revisionist take on the Robin Hood mythos. This takes place after Hood’s original victory over the Sheriff of Nottingham, and he has now gone on crusade to the Holy Lands with King Richard. In their absence, however, the country has not fared well. Marian (Craig) has adopted another identity, and is hiding out as novice nun Matilda, though occasionally sneaks out to help poach from the rich, and give to the poor.

Richard dies abroad, and Robin (Andersen) returns, to find himself greeted warmly by Marian, who has been booted out of her religious order, and not-so warmly by the former Sheriff, William De Wendenal (Cryer), who still bears a grudge against the pair for their role in the loss of his title. Robin is captured and injured, leaving Marian as the only hope of rescue before he’s executed along with his long-time sidekick, Little John (Pellet). Naturally, she is more than up to the task, having both run with the outlaws of Sherwood Forest, and then had to fend for herself, during the three-year span when Robin was overseas. While Marian may be a damsel, she’s more likely to be causing distress, rather than being in it.

She’s certainly more convincing a hero of folklore than Robin, who looks barely old enough to shave, never mind lead a popular rebellion against authority. As a contrast, the last film I saw about the character returning from the Crusades was Robin and Marian, starring a very world weary and middle-aged Sean Connery. Andersen has none of that gravitas, perhaps deliberately to avoid taking the focus away from the heroine. Craig is fine, holding her own dramatically and in action, and occasionally better than fine, even if the ease with which she dispatches enemies close to twice her weight in sword-fights, is painful. In particular, their “armour” doesn’t seem to give them any protection at all: the slightest tap from Marian and they fold like cheap sheets.

As noted, you very much need to be able to look past what is, by and large, an exercise in running around in the forest. There are no bustling towns to be found here: I’m not sure there was ever a scene where the count of participants reached double figures. The buildings are unconvincing. and you never get any sense of this genuinely being the 13th century. However, it is played gratifyingly straight, since otherwise it’d have to compete with fondly-remembered nineties TV series, Maid Marian and her Merry Men (created by Baldrick from Blackadder). Yet it’s also so fast and loose in its cheerful disregard of historical accuracy, it almost plays as a dead-pan spoof. The ending is left wide-open for a sequel, and despite (because of?) all its flaws, I have a sneaking hope that comes to pass.

Dir: Bill Thomas
Star: Sophie Craig, Dominic Andersen, Bob Cryer, Jon Lee Pellet

The Woman King

  By

★★★
“Annalise Keating does not mess around.”

The above – though expressed rather more bluntly! – was Chris’s reaction to the opening scene, in which Nanisca (Davis) leads her female troops, the Agojie, in the ambush of slavers from the neighbouring Oyo tribe. The Oyo are rivals to the Kingdom of Dahomey, under King Ghezo (John Boyega), who relies on Nanisca and the Agojie to protect his territory, and it’s getting closer to all-out war. The Agojie get a new recruit, Nawi (Mbedu), whose father drops her off at the palace gate, because of her refusal to accept an arranged marriage. Nawi turns out to have a very close connection to Nanisca, but also ends up captured by the Oyo and needs to escape before being sold to Brazilian slavers.

I found myself disappointed by this split focus. Davis is great, commanding the screen in just about every scene, and looking every inch a credible army commander. Her physique is also impressive, considering she’s older than I am. The problem is, there isn’t enough of her, even in a 134-minute movie, and Nawi isn’t anywhere near as interesting. While Nanisca may be a fictional character (and I’ll circle back to this), she’s a unique creation. Nawi, on the other hand, feels like a lazy combination of tropes from other films. Never mind the training montage, I literally sighed when she goes back to help a struggling comrade in arms during her final test. The more I saw of her, the less interested I was.

The Agojie in general are an intriguing topic, and there has been some controversy over the film’s depiction of Dahomey. In reality, they were no less enthusiastic about slavery than their neighbours, and certainly didn’t limit themselves to captured enemy soldiers, as is kinda suggested here. However, I can’t say I was bothered. Heck, one of my all-time favourite films is Braveheart, which has only a tangential and tenuous link to historical fact. This deserves no less a pass. You have to accept that these days, you just couldn’t sell – to the audience or a studio – a film where slavers were the good guys. Or girls, in this case. Just do not attempt to pass this off as history.

While more accurate than Black Panther, which had its own female warriors, I’d say it is on a par with your typical Joan of Arc biopic, of which I have rather a lot of recent experience! Purely as entertainment though, it’s decent enough, with Prince-Bythewood possessing a good eye for spectacle. The various threads of Nanisca’s life are weaved together in a decent way, leading to a final confrontation that’s no less satisfying for being entirely expected [and reminiscent of another not-very-historical epic, Gladiator] However, at the macro level, it never quite meshed for me into more than a pleasant time-passer. Nanisca is a fascinating heroine, in need of a character arc. The problem is, Nawi is an interesting arc, in desperate need of a character. 

Dir: Gina Prince-Bythewood
Star: Viola Davis, Thuso Mbedu, Lashana Lynch, Sheila Atim