Kinky Boots (2005)

Sometimes, when picking a title to review for this blog, I deliberately go for something I love. Sometimes, I challenge myself by going for something I think or know I'll hate. Sometimes, I go out of my way to try and find something I think might make for an interesting writeup. And then, sometimes I'm at the scrag end of a long night and I look for whatever seems least likely to trouble me by making me engage my emotions and/or brain.

Can you tell what day yesterday was, folks? 

All I wanted was some convenient background noise to keep half an eye on while I played with my Lego and tried really hard not to think about the election result. At times like these, iPlayer is usually the first place I start looking - once you get past the war films, it's a veritable repository of the sort of little-viewed British movie that gets billed as the next Full Monty and doesn't even make it onto the schedules except after 11pm on a weeknight.

Step forward Kinky Boots, then, which is allegedly based, as a lot of these types of film seem to be, on the true story of a Northampton shoemaker trying desperately to save the factory he inherited from his father. With the market flooded with cheap imports, his task seems doomed, as do the careers of the factory's ragtag band of long-serving employees. Then, one day, an idea hits him. Well, not so much an idea, more the badly-aimed thigh boot of a drag queen he steps in to try and protect from a bunch of thugs. Lola (Chiwetel Ejiofor) is more than capable of handling them, but the boot in question is a casualty of the skirmish, and when Charlie (Joel Edgerton) brings out his tools, an unlikely alliance is formed...

The good

Not really a lot to dislike about this one - the performances are solid to charming, with Ejiofor sidestepping pretty much every awkward drag queen cliché you ever saw to create a character who defies the stereotypes and exists as a fully rounded individual in and of him/herself. The scripting is warm and thoughtful, thanks no doubt to the wonderful Tim Firth, whose work always delights (and whose father was, a long time ago, Mr. Beaupepys' headmaster). The storytelling is brisk without being hurried, and the conclusion is suitably satisfying.

The bad

I just wish this sort of film hadn't become its own sub-genre, whereby parochial Brits are forced by circumstance to do something deemed very, very slightly socially unacceptable and thereby become freer spirits and better people. The Full Monty is the granddaddy of these, of course, but you get one coming along every few years - a Calendar Girls or a Saving Grace or a Pride, with the likes of Made in Dagenham falling somewhere on the continuum. The setting is generally the recent past, the characters are usually likeable and nothing's ever going to upset the horses. These are films that will always pull in an (older?) audience; you can watch them with kids and elderly relatives and nobody's going to be distressed or upset in the slightest. The cockles of your heart will be gently, sedately warmed and you won't even feel a scratch as the needle slips in to send you peacefully on your way to happy oblivion...

Okay, I exaggerate; films like this aren't about to bring about the downfall of Western civilisation, regardless of whether we want them to. And, as stated above, sometimes blandness is a virtue, sort of.

I'm just not sure whether this sort of movie doesn't encourage us all to sink into pleasantly stupefied apathy while the people in power slowly re-mould us into their own soulless, empathy-free image. Maybe the British film industry needs a few more angry people, and maybe it's good to be shocked and upset sometimes.

The verdict

An appealing telling of an appealing story, and one I liked, after a fashion. I give it a cautious recommend, but if this is the sort of thing that makes it onto your personal favourites list, you may want to stand back and take a long hard look at your life.