Pride - film review: 'Bill Nighy and Imelda Staunton manage to escape national treasure status to show us something new'

The Welsh miners saw their livelihoods destroyed, but this drama about the unlikely alliance between gay activists and strikers in the Eighties lets them have the last laugh
Charlotte O'Sullivan28 January 2015

Stop the press: there’s something about this award-winning drama that critics have failed to highlight: Bill Nighy, Imelda Staunton and Paddy Considine (playing inhabitants of a South Wales mining village) do not nail the accent. That no one on this British production forced the trio to work harder with their vocal coaches is a disgrace, one that could spark a whole new set of devolution woes. Then again, Pride is so wonderful that the Welsh may decide to let director Matthew Warchus off the hook.

The script (by first-timer Stephen Beresford) offers a hilarious, often gut-wrenching take on a real-life meeting of minds that took place during the miners’ strike of 1984-5. It begins with a closeted lad from Bromley, Joe (George MacKay), walking past a TV on which a beaming Margaret Thatcher explains that “one isn’t here to be a softie”.

A group of gay activists based in Camden Town know what it’s like to be bullied. Working on the principle that my enemy’s enemy is my friend, Northern Irish Mark (Ben Schnetzer) makes a decision. He realises the miners needed financial, as well as moral, support. So he and the group, with help from a nervous Joe, begin collecting money. They call themselves Lesbians and Gays Support the Miners (LGSM) — initially, they only have one lesbian, but she’s extremely vocal.

Side-stepping the National Union of Mineworkers, which is terrified of attracting negative publicity, Mark and his friends pick a village at random and phone to offer the cash. Thanks to a misunderstanding, the strike committee for the Dulais Valley embrace the gift with open arms. Their representative, Dai (Considine), who happens to be down in London for the day, thanks LGSM with an incredibly affecting speech. I didn’t expect to cry that quickly.

Next up, the committee’s self-appointed “bulldozer”, Hefina (Staunton), along with eloquent young mother Sian (Jessica Gunning) and the shy poetic Cliff (Nighy), invite the group to Wales to say “Ta” in person.

Dulais’s womenfolk are fascinated by the Londoners. They’re full of questions. With a sigh, one of the gay men says, “I know what you’re going to ask.” A Welsh women spits it out: “So. Who does the housework?”

Pride contains a poignant a cappella air, hip-swivelling disco moves from Dominic West, a deliciously itchy first-time kiss and even makes sense of why the miners cling to their dangerous work (it’s not just about money).

Though the film exists within a very British tradition, the second half isn’t predictable. None of the heroes strip (Calendar Girls, Made in Dagenham, The Full Monty) nor does anyone take part in a show that involves lots of practice and, finally, a cheering crowd (The Full Monty, Brassed Off, Billy Elliot).

Beresford, you sense, isn’t scared of messy details and, perhaps compelled to do right by characters who are mostly based on real people, he does Mark, Hefina and Cliff especially proud. Mark looks like Marc Almond’s gauche kid brother, Hefina’s hair resembles a recently expired hedgehog and Cliff’s agitated hands are a law unto themselves. None of these people seem to be getting much sex. Yet the more we get to know them, the more knotty — and yes, sexy — they seem.

Schnetzer is a New Yorker with an unpromising CV (he was one of the few good things about The Book Thief) and he’s fantastic here. Meanwhile, Nighy and Staunton find a way to escape national treasure status and show us something new. At one point, Cliff and Hefina share a secret and then say nothing more, staring downwards as they butter sandwiches. In the starkest of kitchenettes, Nighy and Staunton create an “I’m Spartacus!” moment. It feels both uplifting and exquisitely sad.

In the film, a woman from the village tells the tabloids about the cosy relationship between her neighbours and the LGSM. Back in 1985, the Right- wing press did try to use that bond to hurt the miners’ cause. A real-life editorial is read aloud. By accepting help from “perverts”, they claim, the miners have shown themselves to be not only desperate but “finished”.

Whoever wrote that editorial must be aware that, right now, they’re on the wrong side of history. Pride refuses to accept that the Tories defeated the miners. With its shock happy ending it would have us believe, instead, that grace under pressure is the ultimate triumph.

If the movie does as well as expected, many will find themselves celebrating what can only be described as a queer sort of victory. The miners saw their livelihoods destroyed. Wouldn’t it be lovely if they wound up getting the last laugh?

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