Chewy Verse: The Song of Lunch

Sometimes bad poets create interesting verse. Such will be the case when an unnamed unhappy London copy-editor meets an old flame for lunch. The Chianti will help. His internal commentary incorporates elements of the mock epic and the lament in equal measure throughout The Song of Lunch (trailer here), Niall MacCormick’s adaptation of Christopher Reid’s narrative poem, which airs this coming Sunday on PBS’s Masterpiece Contemporary.

“He” as He will be known, never got over “She.” Despite his passion for her, another man whisked her off her feet and stole her away. To add further insult, his rival has since become a world renown man of letters, while he labors in a lowly publishing job (aren’t they all?). At his invitation, She popped over from Paris for the express purpose of having lunch with him at their old Soho haunt. Yet, even though She is visiting from another country, He will be carrying all the baggage.

The man’s narration is sophisticated in a self-consciously erudite way, much as we might assume his poetry to be. He can turn a clever phrase and has a knack for expressing uncomfortably real sentiments, sparing himself least of all. Yet, a little of his resentful ruminations will go a long way. Fortunately, lunch is short meal, clocking in at just under an hour.

Though many viewers might be more than ready for the check when it comes, Masterpiece Contemporary deserves credit for stretching their format. It is not often one sees a film as literate and introspective as Song in theaters, let alone on broadcast television. It is also perfectly cast. Alan Rickman’s rich, warm voice caresses Reid’s poetry, while his flinty edge well serves the character’s lingering bitterness. As She, Emma Thompson is smart and tough, looking the part of an attractive woman of middlish age that a failed poet might continue carrying a torch for.

Deftly helmed by MacCormick, Song offers up moments of quiet poignancy at the most unexpected places. Granted, the narrator can try our patience, but he is supposed to. Ultimately, it rather gracefully expresses that great poetic truth: tempus fugit. Recommended both for its lead performances and its novelty, Song airs this coming Sunday (11/13) on most PBS outlets, as part of the current season of Masterpiece Contemporary.

Page Eight: Bill Nighy the Anti-American Guy

MI5 senior analyst Johnny Worricker is appalled his agency could not prevent the7/7 London bombings, so he will do everything he can to hamstring its intelligence gathering process. He harbors deep anti-American sentiments, because of their perceived reluctance to share information, but every action he takes justifies that distrust. Yet he lays the sole claim to the moral high ground in David Hare’s decidedly polemical Page Eight (trailer here), which airs this coming Sunday on PBS’s Masterpiece Contemporary.

Take a look at this file and be sure to read the bottom of page eight MI5 Director Benedict Barron tells Worricker. That is the part that off-handedly mentions the Prime Minister has been fully apprised of the secret American rendition centers covertly operating throughout Europe. Old school chums, Barron trusts Worricker more than anyone. After all, Barron married one of the analyst’s many ex-wives. However, Worricker is not sure what sort of game his boss is playing when he reveals the report to the cravenly political Home Secretary.

Simultaneously, Worricker finds himself embroiled in another small intrigue involving his young neighbor, Nancy Pierpan, whose Rachel Corrie-inspired brother was surely killed by the Israelis. As an old Arabist government bureaucrat, Worricker is ripe for her tale of injustice, despite his pretenses of world weary cynicism. At least he has good taste in music, turning Pierpan onto the recordings of Lester Young and Billie Holiday.

Frankly, Page Eight’s politics are about as subtle as an avalanche. Writer-director Hare might be best known for penning the screenplay for Stephen Daldry’s The Reader, in which a former concentration camp guard is portrayed as a sensitive and vulnerable figure, while a Holocaust survivor is depicted as a mean cold shrew. Indeed, Page Eight seems to continue a troubling pattern in Hare’s work, dismissing the mass murder of thousands of innocent Israelis as a trifling matter, but considering the bulldozing of a house in Gaza a human tragedy of cosmic proportions.

Bill Nighy is absolutely pitch-perfect as the Worricker, reveling in his curmudgeonly sophistication. Still, in a strange way, it follows in line with the admittedly sillier Wild Target, putting Nighy’s character in a weirdly sexualized surrogate-father relationship with a woman maybe a third of his age. As Pierpan, Rachel Weisz seems to be playing a character that only exists to express moral indignation. However, Michael Gambon is once again compulsively watchable as the gruff but incisive Barron, while Ralph Fiennes is suitably inscrutable as PM Alec Beasley.

In its defense, Page Eight has a look worthy of a feature film, totally nailing the George Smiley vibe. Paul Englishby’s jazz and jazz-inspired score is also quite stylish and entertaining. Unfortunately, these efforts are undermined by the film’s didacticism. Not simply distracting, it literally dictates where the story must go, thereby sabotaging any sense of surprise. A disappointing programming choice for Masterpiece Contemporary, Page Eight airs on most PBS outlets this Sunday (11/6).