On behalf of the East/West column of The National, Salut! joins people of influence, and the odd luvvie, at a West End screening of a film about political intrigue and bad language that may figure in the coming Baftas ...
It is the time of year when film industry people start talking up their contenders for the poor man’s Oscars. Private screenings are held in the hope of helping those with votes or influence decide which films, filmmakers and stars should collect British Baftas.
Despite lacking either votes or, so far as I know, influence, I was invited to a boutique hotel in as quiet a corner of the London West End as exists, for a special showing of In the Loop, a funny but disturbing satire on the process by which the United States and Britain resolved to go to war in Iraq. The country to be invaded is never mentioned, but its identity is rather easy to discern.
The screening was followed by an illuminating discussion involving the Scottish director Armando Iannucci and some of the cast, the producers and the writers.
The film is funny because the characters, from US officials to London spin doctors, are presented as caricatures. It is disturbing for two reasons: top politicians are seen acting on – or manipulating – analysis produced by fresh-faced researchers barely out of university, and some people with knowledge of the real-life events that led to the invasion have apparently said this portrayal is not so far from the truth.
Iannucci told his audience at the Soho Hotel of his amazement at the extraordinary help he received from officials, especially in Washington, when researching for the film. The former US vice president, Dick Cheney, allowed his outriders to be used for motorcade scenes. James Gandolfini, playing an armed forces chief, was shown around the Pentagon by real generals willing to answer questions about their experiences of actual warfare. In London, Whitehall permitted the filming of a sequence at 10 Downing Street “provided you come when the boss is away”.
Only at the United Nations of New York had there been obstruction, to the extent that the film was forbidden even to reproduce the UN logo and also had to resort to hidden cameras for some scenes.
The film was helped by the deep knowledge Iannucci has amassed during many years of closely following British and American politics. He is also a seasoned satirist; I remember the knowing approval on executive faces at The Daily Telegraph, for which he used to write a column, whenever his articles were mentioned in the editor’s conferences.
I have no idea whether his film, or anyone associated with it, will be among the winners when the Baftas are announced in February.
One natural contender would be Peter Capaldi, who plays the scheming, foul-mouthed Downing Street press supremo James Tucker. But such an award may need to be for the quality of Capaldi’s overall performance, not for how close he got to capturing the personality of Alastair Campbell, who was Tony Blair’s press secretary.
When Iannucci ran into Blair’s then deputy, John Prescott, during a visit to Washington (Prescott having watched the film on the flight over), he was told: “Oh, Alastair’s swearing is much, much worse than that.”
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