There's a shadow that engulfs the young, crushes their spark and makes them look old before their time.
I’m talking, of course, about the shadow cast over ostensibly fresh feature films by Eighties TV comedy Blackadder.
As soon as the posh, patriotic hero is taken to a rat-infested trench in northern France in 1918, those familiar with Blackadder Goes Forth are likely to find themselves making invidious comparisons.
Journey’s End contains several hilarious lines, but none as funny as the famous BGF scene in which Lieutenant George asks if the moment has finally arrived to give “Harry Hun a darned good British-style thrashing”. And receives the reply: “If you mean, ‘Are we all going to get killed?’ Yes. Clearly. Field Marshal Haig is about to make yet another gargantuan effort to move his drinks cabinet six inches closer to Berlin.”
So what does Saul Dibb’s offering get right? RC Sherriff (on whose 1928 play Journey’s End is based) fought in the First World War and had first-hand knowledge of how ruthless England’s military leaders could be. The film taps into Sherriff’s anger and, just as importantly, his lack of machismo. Journey’s End celebrates tenderness under pressure.
Well-connected youngster Raleigh (Asa Butterfield) pulls strings so he can join a beleaguered unit led by Captain Stanhope (Sam Claflin). The latter was his idol at school (and his older sister’s sweetheart). But Stanhope is now an embittered sot. Lieutenant Osborne (Paul Bettany), a former schoolmaster, becomes a kind of surrogate parent to Raleigh. Can he keep the boy safe?
Butterfield’s eyes make you think of husky dogs and lonely planets. Via these spectacular orbs, Raleigh’s primness and vulnerability are touchingly apparent. You won’t get through his sublime last scene without welling up. Claflin is tremendously engaging, moving effortlessly from pettish to passionate.
Though Bettany is a brilliant actor, I was less convinced by Osborne. A number of reviews have praised Journey’s End for being “unsentimental” but Osborne — heroically decent and modest, so avuncular that he, literally, insists on being called “uncle” — is machine-tooled to make us feel cosily upset. Tom Sturridge’s Hibbert, an altogether more pathetic specimen, makes a deeper impression simply because he seems like an inhabitant of planet Earth.
Journey’s End is less of a must-see than a try-and-catch-it-when-it-comes-on-telly. At its best, though, it’s lovely. Think of it as a really, really, little gem.
