So I was communicating with Ye Editor of this august organ, expressing a few concerns related to the upcoming release schedule.
'I'd like to do something a bit special for the issue dated Monday 3rd July,' said I. 'But the big studio release for the week leading up to that is Transformers 5, and I'm not touching that with a bargepole, Limitless card or not.'
'Sounds like a healthy decision. We have faith in you,' came the response.
Well, where there's a big saggy blockbuster, there's frequently counter-programming, too, and one could surely expect the new Transformers (described by Bradshaw in The Guardian the other day as 'a machine for turning your brain into soup') to be countered by something a little more mellow, thoughtful, and humane. What has actually emerged to hoover up the money of cinemagoers not keen to spend two hours recreating the experience of sitting in a tumble drier being pushed down a hill by an angry mob is Joel Hopkins' Hampstead, a golden-years romantic-comedy-drama starring Diane Keaton and Brendan Gleeson. I get the impression expectations for this film are quite high, for it has won the coveted main screen at Oxford city centre's nicer cinema, which I don't feel I get to sit in nearly often enough.
In this movie, which (needless to say, I hope) is set in the London borough of Hampstead, Diane Keaton plays Emily, a woman whose husband has died fairly recently, leaving her with some financial concerns. (She still lives in an enormous apartment block with its own concierge, of course, like most people in London.) Her friends and family are all urging her to move on with her life, and her accountant keeps macking on her in a way which I'm guessing is meant to be pathetic-funny but actually just comes across as rather repulsive. Anyway, Emily's life changes when she bumps into Donald (Gleason), a sort of human womble living rough in a secluded part of Hampstead Heath, in a shack he built himself many years earlier. The area is due to be redeveloped and Donald is about to be evicted, and as Emily finds herself increasingly drawn to him, she resolves to help him fight to keep his home. But can people from two such different worlds truly find happiness together? Especially when it turns out that Emily's closest friends are deeply involved in the redevelopment project which looks set to evict Donald from the home he loves...
Look, Diane Keaton was in Annie Hall and Sleeper and The Godfather, there's no excuse for not liking her as an actress. Brendan Gleeson was in In Bruges and Calvary and The Guard, in addition to all those supporting parts in blockbusters, so the same applies to him. I think I would give any film starring Brendan Gleeson a chance, in fact. Or so I kept reminding myself while I was watching Hampstead and trying to stop me hurling myself bodily from the cinema balcony in an attempt to escape from the movie.
What is it about this film which makes it quite so exceptionable? Is it the soft-focus depiction of homelessness in modern London? The disparity between the living standards and housing of the wealthy and the poor in the city's more prosperous parts has become a bit of an issue in the last couple of weeks, as you may have noticed on the news. Perhaps it is partly to blame. Is it the crushing obviousness of pretty much every line of the script and the direction-of-travel of the movie? I think we are getting a bit closer, there, to be honest. Emily needs to learn the life lesson that She Has Potential As A Human Being (and also that all her so-called friends are grotesque shallow comic harpies). Donald has to learn the life lesson that Being A Reclusive Curmudgeonly Hermit is not good and you must Connect With People And Find Love. The manner in which these two character arcs unfold and interact contains fewer surprises than a dot-to-dot book assembled by someone unable to count above three. Overall, such is the sense of dramatic tension and potential for excitement in this movie that you can cut the atmosphere with a rolling pin.
You can see what the makers of this film had in mind when they were putting it together – one of those rom-coms set in an absurdly photogenic London with an imported American star and a local leading man, with the formula modulated somewhat to appeal to older audiences in the same way that (for example) Man Up was tweaked to seem slightly more edgy. However, what they've ended up with in this case feels rather like a lobotomised mash-up of The Lady in the Van and an early draft of Notting Hill before Richard Curtis had put any of the jokes in. It is of course physically impossible for performers of the stature of Diane Keaton and Brendan Gleeson to be completely bad for 104 minutes, and each of them manages to bring moments of power and life to the very thin characters they are obliged to play here. Employing Brendan Gleeson, in particular, in a film quite as lightweight and disposable as this one is a bit like buying an armoured car to do the school run in. But there are some talented people in the supporting cast as well, and they make virtually no impression (at least, not in a good way).
Is it even worth mentioning that this movie is supposedly based on a true story? 'Inspired by the life of Harry Hallowes,' squeak the closing credits – useful words, 'inspired by', for they give you so much latitude to invent new characters, change the ending, and insert whatever Moral Premise you believe will play best with your target demographic – the film really does feel exactly that calculated, and as a result whatever emotions it manages to generate feel cold and glutinous – it's a bit like being swamped by a wave of chilled treacle.
In the end I suspect the main problem with Hampstead is that it's a smug film that still manages to feel hollow and manipulative, as well as being a drama without any surprises, a comedy with barely any decent jokes, and a romance with no sense of passion or even much emotion to it. I am sorely tempted to recommend you go to see Transformers 5 instead. I was rather hoping this 500th edition of the column would be able to conclude on an upbeat, celebratory note, but instead I find myself obliged only to offer the sternest of warnings: this film will eat your soul.