The new live-action Thunderbirds film has been targeted specifically at children, so there were lots of toddlers toddling up the red carpet at the premiere in Leicester Square. I was invited with my three little ones as a guest of the Red Cross, the main charity at the festivities.
Having been, in a former life, a captive of the red-carpet press-pen - dare I say an expert, even - I knew that a child's take on the phenomenon would be utterly different. They aren't interested in being papped, for a start. They aren't interested in saying howdy to Lowri Turner, Gaby Roslin, ITN or anyone else choosing to "work" the carpet. They were very interested, however, in Lady Penelope's pink car, parked outside, and a bit frightened by the fireworks that kept on popping above it.
Once inside, they were very frightened by Ben Kingsley's portrayal of the Thunderbirds' nemesis, The Hood, and somewhat startled afterwards to see the knight himself wandering around the foyer. "Why isn't he in costume?" demanded my six-year-old, while the four-year-old, who had particularly hated The Hood's nasty trick with the pupils of his eyes, shrank behind me. I suggested we go for a chat, and met him as he was getting into a limo. "I'm only a little old actor, you know," said Sir Ben.
It was all very jolly, and there was more to come. Lincoln's Inn had been transformed into a playground, with Tracy Island under a marquee in the square and Lady Penelope's boudoir in the Great Hall. Portraits of distinguished judges gazed distractedly over tables set up with manicurists and hairdressers. In the middle of the hall was a huge area groaning with confectionery, where you could create your own fairy cake with sweets and pink icing, and dip marshmallows into a pink chocolate fountain. Feather boas floated through the air and Handel's "Arrival of the Queen of Sheba" boomed out of a PA system. The only reminder of the Inn's normal character was the lack of ladies' loos. You could get your nails painted vermilion, but could you go for a wee?
Standing behind me in the queue for a manicure was a spokesman from Ford, one of the film's sponsors and the supplier of not only the cars in the movie, but also a rather exquisite model to be raffled for the Red Cross later in the day. I mentioned that I had been aware of some rather overt product placement in the picture. He grimaced and admitted he had been aware of the same. In fact, he had counted up the Ford references. Still, with a costly film whose reception - particularly from adult Thunderbirds fans - is by no means assured, I suppose you need all the help you can get.
Gerry Anderson, the original creator, was notable by his absence. It is said he's not too chuffed with the liberties taken by the film, particularly the decision to turn his world from a chichi cult into something more akin to Five Get Lost on Tracy Island. However, his favoured charity, International Rescue Corps, had a stand at the party and taught my kids how to tie reef knots. We came third in the raffle, which was bad news for me but great news for the junior Millards, who can now spend at least the first week of the summer holidays playing with a vast box of Thunderbirds toys.
Mark Kermode, Film, page 45
