Gilbey on Film: A Cinematic Olympics

Cinema's presence at the London Olympics stretches beyond the spectacle of Danny Boyle's opening ceremony.

 

Cinema has a significant presence at the London Olympics, and not only because it is a film director, Danny Boyle, who will go down in history as the first Briton to take home gold from the games. Let it not concern us that his medal is theoretical, and made of large quantities of acclaim, adoration and gratitude, which are more precious than mere metals, not to mention easier to get through customs. It is no small feat that Boyle produced an emphatic spectacle out of that most inauspicious furnace: seven years of public dread more consistent with the approach of a second ice age. His achievement doesn’t diminish the cost of the games, or the scepticism over the supposed legacy, but it is still a miracle in its own right.
 
The opening ceremony was also steeped in the cinematic. The montage (preliminary list here) of British cinema in the middle of proceedings was persuasive and eccentric: we got excerpts from Oliver Twist, Kes, Gregory’s Girl, The Full Monty and Four Weddings and a Funeral, while the oddness of seeing David Bowie in The Man Who Fell to Earth was unexpectedly exhilarating. (It was sweet of Boyle, a self-professed Nicolas Roeg fan, to give that director the largest audience he’s ever had.) I was glad, too, that the famously humble Boyle included clips from his own Trainspotting, even if he stopped short of featuring the full version of the toilet scene
 
Earlier in the show we were treated to a blast of the theme tune from The Archers, and the film montage went on to include those other Archers, Powell and Pressburger, in the form of A Matter of Life and Death. Mike Oldfield played several minutes of Tubular Bells, a work now forever associated with The Exorcist, and multiple Mary Poppinses filled the air. Cinema was integrated into the ceremony’s cheekiest filmed segments, with Rowan Atkinson infiltrating Chariots of Fire and the Queen joining Daniel Craig to provide a literal interpretation of the title of the next James Bond film (Skyfall). It all added up to the greatest Danny Boyle movie never made.
 
Four short films were also commissioned by Channel 4 and the BBC as part of the London 2012 festival. After being unveiled in June at the Edinburgh Film Festival, the shorts have received cinema and television screenings and are on the BBC iPlayer for the next few days. The most conventional offering is What If (available until 31 July) a fantasy set on a London housing estate where a young boy is helped by a guardian angel (Noel Clarke) to see his life, his surroundings and his potential future through the prism of Kipling’s poem “If.” The directing team of Max Giwa and Dania Pasquina, who have a couple of Streetdance films to their name, opt for a glossy poverty-chic look where the monochrome sleekness of La Haine gives way in moments of special hope to bursts of sentimental colour (a pot of yellow flowers, or a rainbow arching over London) à la The Wizard of Oz or Rumble Fish. It’s a well-meaning piece that smacks of an ad agency show-reel.
 
Mike Leigh’s contribution, A Running Jump (available until 3 August), has been described by the director himself as “a bundle of gags” and “a humorous anecdote.” This story of a manic second-hand car salesman, Perry (Eddie Marsan), trying to flog a clapped-out banger has the vivid colours and perkiness of Leigh’s ostentatiously upbeat Happy-Go-Lucky, but rather less in the way of originality. Have wacky yoga routines and fast-talking wide boys ever been funny? I’m not convinced. But Marsan has some choice moments, particularly when trying to convince his daughter to do him a favour by bombarding her with promises plucked from the air (“I’ll buy you a new pair of trainers… I’ll run you a nice hot bath… I’ll give you twenty quid…”).
 
Leigh is correct: the film is a sketch, a fancy. But it’s still weirdly taxing: I didn’t have nearly as much fun as the actors seemed to. And the chirpy-cheeky score, with brass and bongo drums urging us on to enjoy ourselves, has now replaced for me the yuppie landlord from Naked as the single most irritating element in any Mike Leigh film. At least A Running Jump has a majestic sign-off shot: a broken-down car spewing smoke with London spread out in the distance. A harbinger of the UK’s Olympic prospects?
 
It has been noted that this is the first helicopter shot Leigh has used in more than 40 years of filmmaking. Asif Kapadia’s The Odyssey, on the other hand, is comprised of little else. This short documentary (showing until 1 August) is an overview of London’s fortunes from 6 July 2005, when the city’s successful Olympic bid was announced, to the present day; special emphasis is given to the 7/7 bombings, the financial crisis and last summer’s riots, with the tone of cautious optimism captured by audio-only interviews with contributors including Robert Elms and Richard Williams. The predominance of aerial footage, with its associations of objectivity but also surveillance, gives The Odyssey a helpfully analytical tone that was sometimes missing from the same director’s feature-length documentary Senna. The images from the riots are used particularly well: the camera hovers high above the flames, keeping us at arm’s length, while the soundtrack engages intimately with the panic and the rage on the streets.
 
It’s hardly a surprise that the most impressive and adventurous of the four films comes from Lynne Ramsay, an acknowledged master of the short. In Swimmer (available to watch until 3 August), Ramsay uses an aural and visual collage effect to portray an angelic young man’s long swim through the wilderness. As with Kapadia’s film, the most powerful effects here are often achieved by the friction between sound and image. While the eyes are soothed and stimulated by Natasha Braier’s lyrical black-and-white cinematography, the ears are greeted with a mini-tour through British cinema, including snatches of scenes from Billy Liar, If…, The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner and Walkabout (Roeg again).
 
The worst aspect of the public experience during the games is likely to be the attempt to police vigorously what we can see or hear as we move around London. The walk across the bridge to the Olympic park, for instance, has now been comprehensively spoiled, with sponsor posters obscuring the bridge’s glass panels, which previously looked out onto Stratford’s criss-crossing train tracks and Anish Kapoor’s gloriously jumbled sculpture beyond. Inching across the bridge today is a claustrophobic experience: the exterior has been rendered interior, shutting out the beautifully grimy east London mishmash. The best creative works, whether they are as vast and ambitious as Boyle’s opening ceremony or as intimate as Swimmer, travel in the opposite direction, reaching beyond physical constraints and into the limitless imagination.
Danny Boyle's opening ceremony for the London Olympics (Photo: Getty)

Ryan Gilbey is the New Statesman's film critic. He is also the author of It Don't Worry Me (Faber), about 1970s US cinema, and a study of Groundhog Day in the "Modern Classics" series (BFI Publishing). He was named reviewer of the year in the 2007 Press Gazette awards.

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The best film soundtracks to help you pretend you live in a magical Christmas world

It’s December. You no longer have an excuse.

It’s December, which means it’s officially time to crack out the Christmas music. But while Mariah Carey and Slade have their everlasting charms, I find the best way to slip into the seasonal spirit is to use a film score to soundtrack your boring daily activities: sitting at your desk at work, doing some Christmas shopping, getting the tube. So here are the best soundtracks and scores to get you feeling festive this month.

A Charlie Brown Christmas (1965)

Although this is a children’s film, it’s the most grown-up soundtrack on the list. Think smooth jazz with a Christmas twist, the kind of tunes Ryan Gosling is playing at the fancy restaurant in La La Land, plus the occasional choir of precocious kids. Imagine yourself sat in a cocktail chair. You’re drinking an elaborate cocktail. Perhaps there is a cocktail sausage involved also. Either way, you’re dressed head-to-toe in silk and half-heartedly unwrapping Christmas presents as though you’ve already received every gift under the sun. You are so luxurious you are bored to tears of luxury – until a tiny voice comes along and reminds you of the true meaning of Christmas. This is the kind of life the A Charlie Brown Christmas soundtrack can give you. Take it with both hands.

Elf (2003)

There is a moment in Elf when Buddy pours maple syrup over his spaghetti, washing it all down with a bottle of Coca Cola. “We elves like to stick to the four main food groups,” he explains, “candy, candy canes, candy corns and syrup.” This soundtrack is the audio equivalent – sickly sweet, sugary to an almost cloying degree, as it comes peppered with cute little flutes, squeaky elf voices and sleigh bells. The album Elf: Music from the Motion Picture offers a more durable selection of classics used in the movie, including some of the greatest 1950s Christmas songs – from Louis Prima’s 1957 recording of “Pennies from Heaven”, two versions of “Sleigh Ride”, Eddy Arnold’s “Santa Claus is Coming to Town” and Eartha Kitt’s 1953 “Santa Baby”. But if a sweet orchestral score is more your thing, the Elf OST of course finishes things off with the track “Spaghetti and Syrup”. Just watch out for the sugar-rush headache.

Harry Potter (2001-2011)

There are some Christmas-specific songs hidden in each of the iconic Harry Potter scores, from “Christmas at Hogwarts” to “The Whomping Willow and The Snowball Fight” to “The Kiss” (“Mistletoe!” “Probably full of knargles”), but all the magical tinkling music from these films has a Christmassy vibe. Specifically concentrate on the first three films, when John Williams was still on board and things were still mostly wonderful and mystical for Harry, Ron and Hermione. Perfect listening for that moment just before the snow starts to fall, and you can pretend you’re as magical as the Hogwarts enchanted ceiling (or Ron, that one time).

Carol (2015)

Perhaps you’re just a little too sophisticated for the commercial terror of Christmas, but, like Cate Blanchett, you still want to feel gorgeously seasonal when buying that perfect wooden train set. Then the subtly festive leanings of the Carol soundtrack is for you. Let your eyes meet a stranger’s across the department store floor, or stare longingly out of the window as your lover buys the perfect Christmas tree from the side of the road. Just do it while listening to this score, which is pleasingly interspersed with songs of longing like “Smoke Rings” and “No Other Love”.

Holiday Inn (1942)

There’s more to this soundtrack than just “White Christmas”, from Bing Crosby singing “Let’s Start The New Year Off Right” to Fred Astaire’s “You’re Easy To Dance With” to the pair’s duet on “I’ll Capture Your Heart”. The score is perfect frosty walk music, too: nostalgic, dreamy, unapologetically merry all at once.

The Tailor of Gloucester (1993)

Okay, I’m being a little self-indulgent here, but bear with me. “The Tailor of Gloucester”, adapted from the Beatrix Potter story, was an episode of the BBC series The World of Peter Rabbit and Friends and aired in 1993. A Christmastime story set in Gloucester, the place I was born, was always going to be right up my street, and our tatty VHS came out at least once a year throughout my childhood. But the music from this is something special: songs “The Tailor of Gloucester”, “Songs From Gloucester” and “Silent Falls the Winter Snow” are melancholy and very strange, and feature the singing voices of drunk rats, smug mice and a very bitter cat. It also showcases what is in my view one of the best Christmas carols, “Sussex Carol.” If you’re the kind of person who likes traditional wreaths and period dramas, and plans to watch Victorian Baking at Christmas when it airs this December 25th, this is the soundtrack for you.

Home Alone (1990-1992)

The greatest, the original, the godfather of all Christmas film soundtracks is, of course, John William’s Home Alone score. This is for everyone who likes or even merely tolerates Christmas, no exceptions. It’s simply not Christmas until you’ve listened to “Somewhere in My Memory” 80,000 times whilst staring enviously into the perfect Christmassy homes of strangers or sung “White Christmas” to the mirror. I’m sorry, I don’t make the rules. Go listen to it now—and don't forget Home Alone 2: Lost in New York, which is as good as the first.

Anna Leszkiewicz is a pop culture writer at the New Statesman.