The Virgin Mary takes a much-deserved gong. Photo: Getty
Show Hide image

Bad theatre, BoJo and Bingate: Mark Lawson’s culture awards 2014

Handing out the gongs.

The Cultural Controversy Prize
(sponsored by Twitter)

A strong case was made for the forcing off air of a radio broadcaster by the overreaction of witless BBC management. But the story of David Lowe – expelled from Radio Devon after accidentally playing a 1932 record that included the N-word – eventually shared third place with Jeremy Clarkson, who mumbled the same taboo. Runner-up was “Bingate”, which involved days of speculation about whether one contestant on The Great British Bake Off had deliberately defrosted the baked Alaska of another. But whereas many heads of great cultural institutions have lost their marbles without knowing it, Neil MacGregor of the British Museum knew what he was doing when, while continuing to deny the Greek claim to the Elgins, he lent one to Vladimir Putin.

Send Them Back Prize
(sponsored by Ukip)

Calls for a UK trade embargo of American Equity were prompted by three appalling theatrical imports to London. Bakersfield Mist by Stephen Sachs wasted the talent of Kathleen Turner in an execrable squib about the attribution of Jackson Pollocks that forced critics to stoop for a low rhyme with the artist’s surname. Theresa Rebeck’s Seminar had lessons in creative writing as both its subject and its urgent requirement. And, in a revival of David Mamet’s Speed-the-Plow, Richard Schiff (Toby from The West Wing) played a supposedly demonic Hollywood producer on such a low-voiced single note that his co-star Lindsay Lohan could act him off the stage just by turning up, which, despite bitchy predictions of unreliability, she did.

No Publicity Required Award
(presented by Thomas Pynchon)

Although methods of publicity and advertising became ever more sophisticated, two of the biggest British events of 2014 would still have succeeded if their marketing had consisted of a single scribbled Post-it note stuck to a tree. This prize goes to Monty Python – the first release of tickets for the “One Down, Five to Go” reunion selling out in 43.5 seconds – with Kate Bush getting the silver for taking 15 minutes to shift every seat for her 22-night comeback.

Disguised Leadership Bid Prize
(presented by Rt Hon Theresa May)

In a pre-election period, “campaign autobiographies” are commonplace. But this year was notable for political authors who spent their entire publicity tour denying that they were making a bid for power. Voted into joint third place were Alan Johnson – forced to deny that his second memoir, Please, Mister Postman, was attempting to deliver a farewell letter to Ed Miliband – and Hillary Clinton, whose Hard Choices infuriatingly but ingeniously spent 635 pages failing to rule in or rule out another White House run. Second was Russell Brand with Revolution, a curious attempt to incite an uprising with no coherent aims. But, for sheer chutzpah, the panel acclaimed Boris Johnson, whose The Churchill Factor explored the public appeal of burly, controversial hedonists with a lucrative sideline in writing.

Unlikely Dramatic Appearances Award
(sponsored by Godot)

For remaining a go-to protagonist after more than 2,000 years, the panel found it inconceivable to look beyond the Virgin Mary. She was portrayed on stage by Fiona Shaw in The Testament of Mary and, in his one-man play The Man Jesus, by Simon Callow, who also impersonated Mary Magdalene – a character (mixed up with at least three other biblical Marys) in John Adams’s oratorio The Gospel According to the Other Mary at ENO.

The Prize for Popularising Art
(presented by that man who won the Turner)

Strong competition came from J M W Turner himself – who had a revelatory show of late work at Tate Britain and was played by Timothy Spall in a Mike Leigh movie – and the critic John Ruskin, a character in both Leigh’s film and Emma Thompson’s Effie Gray. Runner-up was Grayson Perry, for guest-editing a leading left-wing magazine and creating in his tremendous Channel 4 series Who Are You? a portrait pot of Chris Huhne that featured a line of penises. But the year’s most visible artist, an impressive feat as he was confined under house arrest in China, was Ai Weiwei, who created thrilling interventions within the buildings and landscape of Yorkshire Sculpture Park and Blenheim Palace.

The Hidden Portrait Award
(presented by Wally from Where’s Wally?)

A crowded fictional genre was literary satire, with the lit sat sometimes also containing a lit spat. Hanif Kureishi’s The Last Word, Edward St Aubyn’s Lost for Words, Robert Galbraith’s The Silkworm, David Mitchell’s The Bone Clocks and Mal Peet’s The Murdstone Trilogy all contained scurrilous portraits of writers who felt oddly familiar. But only transatlantic yacht crews have sailed closer to the wind than Kureishi, whose fictional authorial monster, Mamoon Azam, shared with Sir V S Naipaul physical appearance, anti-post-colonial attitudes, sneers at his peers, a goatee beard and a Nobel Prize in literature. The judges gave extra marks for reports that Naipaul had attended the book launch.

Mark Lawson is a journalist and broadcaster, best known for presenting Front Row on Radio 4 for 16 years. He writes a weekly column in the critics section of the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 19 December 2014 issue of the New Statesman, Christmas Issue 2014

Photo: Warner Bros
Show Hide image

Every single line spoken by actor Harry Styles in the movie Dunkirk, evaluated

Judging the actual speaking and acting the from teen icon.

When it was announced that Harry Styles had been cast in Dunkirk, most people assumed it was a Drew Barrymore in Scream sort of deal. A big name, who would be plastered over the posters, front and centre at promotional interviews, but given a barely-speaking part and probably killed off in the first five minutes. Not so! Not only does he not die early on, Harry has a very significant amount of time on screen in Dunkirk, and even more surprisingly, a lot of that time involves actual speaking and acting from the teen icon. In this action-heavy, dialogue-sparse film, he has more lines than most.

Of course, the most normal human response to this revelation is to list every single time he speaks in the film and evaluate every moment on a line-by-line basis. So here it is. Every single line spoken by actor Harry Styles in the movie Dunkirk, evaluated by a very impartial Harry Styles fan. Let’s go.

Obviously, this contains spoilers for Dunkirk.

“What’s wrong with your friend?”

It’s the first line, but it’s a goody. So nonchalant; so effortless; breezily accompanied by a mouthful of toast and jam. Curious, friendly – but with dangerous edge. A lurking threat. A shiver of accusation. This sets up Alex as a normal, if self-assured, bloke who also wants to be sure you’re not about to get him killed. A very strong debut – the kind of line that, if you didn’t know better, would make you think, “Hm, who’s this charismatic young guy”?

A cheer.

Solid 8/10 cheer, believe this guy has cheered before.

“You can’t leave us! Make some room!”

It’s only been ten minutes, but things have really kicked up a notch. Raspy, panicked, desperate, this line left my heart jumping for my poor sodden son. A triumph, and certainly one of Harry’s best lines.

“Hey!”

Here, Alex yells “Hey!” to get the attention of other soldiers, which turns into louder, repeated cries for their attention. I can find little wrong with this “Hey”, and indeed later “Hey”s, but I would not nominate it for an Oscar. This “Hey” is just fine.

“What’s that way?”

I believe that Alex does not, in fact, know what is that way. (It’s a boat.) 7/10.

“S’grounded!”

Alex has delivered the last three shouts with exactly the same intonation. This is good because normal people do not opt for variance in tone when desperately yelling at each other across the beach. I also appreciate the lack of enunciation here. Great work, Harry.

“’ow long’s that?”

I believe that Alex does not, in fact, know how long it will take for the tide to come in. (It’s about three hours.) 7/10.

“Poke yer head out, see if the water’s come in”

Alex is ramping things up a notch – this is authoritative, even challenging. Excellent pronunciation of “aht”, more great slurring.

“Talkative sod, aren’t ya?”

A big line, important for the growing hints that Alex is mistrustful of the silent soldier in their group. And yet not Harry’s absolute best. A little too much forced vowel for me.

“For fuck’s sake!”

Oh my God, we’re here now boys. It’s begun. The water’s not come in. Forget the high-explosive, Alex has only gone and dropped a bloody F-bomb, and Harry’s performance is actually stressful. What an about-turn. Delivered with spitting fury; the “for”, if there at all, almost inaudible; a dropped box clanging to the ground for extra impact. We know that Harry ad-libbed this (and a later) F-word, and this spontaneous approach is working. A truly superb go at doing some swearing. 10/10.

“Yeah but ’ow long?”

I would describe this delivery as “pained”. A little groan of fear hangs in the back. This is, as they say, the good shit.

“Why’d you leave your boat?”

This whispered anger suits Harry.

Some extreme shushing.

Definitely would shush.

“We have to plug it!”

Alex’s heart doesn’t seem really in plugging the bullet holes in the boat, despite the surface-level urgency of this delivery, probably because he doesn’t want to get shot. Nuance. I like it.

“Somebody needs to get off.”

A mic drop of a line, delivered with determined focus.

“I don’t need a volunteer. I know someone who ough’a get off.”

The way his cadence falls and his voice falters when as he reaches the word volunteer. It’s a sad, resigned, type of fear, the type of fear we expect from Rupert Grint’s Ron Weasley. Harry’s dropping clues that Alex doesn’t really want to be shoving anyone off a boat to their deaths. But then Alex steels himself, really packing a punch over that “ough’a”.

“This one. He’s a German spy.”

The momentum is building, Alex’s voice is getting breathier and breathier, panic is fluttering in his voice now. I’m living for each and every second of this, like a proud mother with a camcorder. You’re doing amazing, sweetie.

“He’s a focking Jerry!”

Go on my son! Harry’s voice is so high only dogs can hear him now. The mix of fear and aggression is genuinely convincing here, and more than ever it feels clear that you’re practically watching a group of schoolboys with guns scared out of their minds, desperate to go home, who might shoot each other dead at any second. This is undoubtedly the pinnacle of Harry’s performance.

“Have you noticed he hasn’t said a word? ’Cause I ’ave. Won’t speak English: if he does it’s in an accent’s thicker than sauerkraut sauce.”

This is, objectively, the silliest line in this film and maybe any film, ever, and I love it. Never before have the words “sauerkraut sauce” been uttered as a simile, or as a threat, and here, they are both. Inexplicably, it sort of works through Harry’s high-pitched voice and gritted teeth. My personal highlight of the entire movie.

“Tell me.”

Alex is going full antagonist. Whispered, aggressive, threatening. It is safe to say I am dead and deceased.

“Tell me, ‘Gibson’”.

Ugh, now with an added layer of mockery. I am dead, but also please kill me.

“A frog! A bloody frog! A cowardly, little queue-jumping frog. Who’s Gibson, eh? Some naked, dead Englishman lying out in that sand?”

Brexit Harry Styles is furious, and his accent is going a bit all over the place as a result.

“Maybe he killed him.”

Just-about-believably paranoid.

“How do we know?”

This is too close to the delivery Harry uses in this vine for me to take seriously, I’m deeply sorry about that.

“Well, we know who’s getting off.”

I believe that Alex does, in fact, know who is getting off. (It’s the French guy.) 7/10.

“Better ’im than me.”

I agree!!!!!

“Somebody’s gotta get off, so the rest of us can live.”

Empassioned, persuasive, fervent. When glimpsed in trailers, this moment made me think Alex would be sacrificing himself to save others. Not so! He just really, really wants to live. A stellar line, executed very well.

“Do you wanna volunteer?”

Good emoting. I believe the emotion used here is “disbelief”.

“Then this is the price!”

I believe the emotion used here is “desperation”.

“He’s dead, mate.”

So blunt, delivered with an awkward pity. A stand-out moment thanks to my high quality son Harold.

“We let you all down, didn’t we.”

Dahhn. Harry lets us know this is not even a question in Alex’s mind, its a fact. Poor depressed little Alex.

“That old bloke wouldn’t even look us in the eye.”

The weird thing (irony? joke?) here is that the old bloke is actually blind, not refusing to look them in the eye. Slightly bizarre, but Harry rolls with it with this relaxed approach to the word “bloke”.

“Hey! Where are we!”

Good God I love this rousing line. The bell chiming in the background, the violins stirring. There is something curiously British about this line. Something so, “‘What’s to-day?’ cried Scrooge”. Here, Harry is doing what he did best in the early one direction days - being a normal lad from a normal town whose life was made extraordinary even though he’s just, like, so totally normal.

“What station!”

I take it back, THIS is probably my favourite line of the whole movie. Purely because it sounds exactly like Harry Edward Styles on an average day, going about his business, asking what station he’s at. Alex who?

“Grab me one o’ them papers! Go on!”

Now, this, I love. Newcastle brown in hand, f’s dropped, a “go on” barely lacking a “my son”. Put a flat cap on the lad and hand him a chimney sweeping broom - we are in deliciously caricatured Brit territory.

“I can’t bear it. They’ll be spitting at us in the streets, if they’re not locked up waiting for the invasion.”

How rapidly joy turns to ashes in our mouths. One second so elated, with the nostalgic scent of home quivering in his nostrils, Alex is now feeling extremely sorry for himself (fair enough, to be honest). A fine “sad voice” here.

“I can’t look.”

The “sad voice” continues.

“Wha’??”

Hahahahahaha. Yes.

And with this very confused noise Harry Styles closes his debut film performance, which I would describe as extremely solid. Even if I am fuming that he didn’t get to die, beautifully, and at length. Well done Harold.

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