I’m not actually a fan of Joe Wright‘s 2017 “historical drama” Darkest Hour. I should get that out of the way from the start. I’ve never been all that comfortable with how movies not only skewer but wholesale alter events in the past to create a fiction that can be and often is, a substitute for accepted reality. It’s nothing new in cinema of course, but numerous films like A Beautiful Mind, Hidden Figures, and well … just about any Disney movie as just examples, take tremendous liberties in spinning a narrative more attuned to entertainment than authenticity. So, as this website is also in the business of entertainment, I’ll skip the history lesson, or the condemnation of the film in twisting it, and get to just that, the fun of Wright’s Darkest Hour.
Briefly, the story centers on the early days of World War II, as Hitler’s forces march across Europe, soon landing in France, right at England’s doorstep. With Parliament pushing then Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain out, Winston Churchill finds himself at the seat of power. He faces much opposition as the question of what to do with the coming threat weighing heavy on the body politic, not too mention the people they govern. Churchill is defiant in demanding a fight, refusing to consider negotiations for peace, and so, goes on a personal crusade to convince those who need to be that when the time comes, they should, as he so eloquently put it, fight on the beaches and never surrender.
The success of the film, as was much celebrated, is of course Gary Oldman‘s performance. While kudos (and Academy Awards) are deserved for the make-up effects, it is his interpretation of the esteemed British figure that makes the movie as watchable as it is (though I could devote an entire post on the great work from Lily James as his devoted secretary). Once onboard with what Oldman’s doing, which doesn’t take much effort to do, it’s less of a burden to think about or compare what’s on screen to what really happened. Wright is crafting a halo of deification around Churchill, position him as a singular voice in staging what would become England’s defense and as such, delivers a kind of one-man show to give opportunity for a tour de force crowd-pleaser from Oldman. It works.
And it works best in a great moment underground.
In the third act, Churchill is realizing that Hitler is practically unstoppable, leaving England’s only forces trapped on the northern coast of France (see Dunkirk to get that end of the story). As his War Cabinet remains fiercely divided, pressure mounts for a meeting with Italy to broker terms for peace, which Churchill believes will be the end of the English realm. Impulsively, while being driven to Parliament, Churchill manages to ditch his driver and sneak away making his way to the London Underground and catch a ride to Westminster among the people of the city. It’s the first time he has ever taken the tube.
There, he is of course recognized, and it creates a stir, people rightfully surprised to see their government leader riding the rails. He uses the opportunity to speak with them, learning many of their names and occupations, and then creatively surveys them about how their feelings toward Hitler and a possible invasion. Naturally, they are fully aligned with him, refusing the idea of surrender, willing to fight and die in the streets to earn victory. Even the children.
It’s a rousing, even touching sequence, again led by Oldman’s subtle and personable performance, punctuated by a small cast of commuters who represent nearly all walks of life in the city (including an allusion to a mix-raced couple?). Churchill quips with them at first, playing into their confusion and awkwardness, then deftly wedges himself among them, fueling patriotism while seeking what he suspects is already true, that they want no part of a surrender.
Even when he quotes Thomas Babington Macaulay‘s Lays of Rome (yes, I had to look that up) – a silly cliche in movies but not one Churchill was free of – it finds traction, he seemingly forgetting the final lines before one of the tube riders (Ade Haastrup) finishes it for him. It’s a deeply manipulative moment that is handled exactly right. It’s also a scene that wouldn’t happen in real life of course but for the film’s sake is arguably necessary in that it takes us out of the halls of government and into the lives of those they represent. These characters stand as the voice to all just like them, from the bricklayers to the mothers to the teachers and children, they give them position in the story and at last, backbone for what Churchill must do next. It’s thrilling.
Combine that with excellent direction, a nicely nuanced bit of music (from Dario Marianelli), and a genuine sense of honesty about it, and the London Underground becomes the most impactful moment in a film that works to have many. I think what made it most effective for me was how well it warmed me over, as the moment he slipped from his driver, I got that “ugh” feeling in my gut, the one that typically has me bracing for the ridiculous and reason to tell all my friends why a movie fails. But I got it. I understood what Wright and writer Anthony McCarten were doing. And I liked it. You should, too. It’s a great movie moment.