The Keeper (2018)

St Helens, England, 1944

I can't tell you how much of a rush that opening caption from The Keeper gave me. You see, it's not often that a film is set in my hometown. Not just my hometown, but on the very streets immediately beyond my front doorstep and within my local pub. And OK, they didn't film it here, they filmed it in rural Northern Ireland, which doesn't really look anything like here but yeah, let me have my moment.

Bert Trautmann is a legend here in St Helens. Arriving in the town as a German POW, his prowess as a goalkeeper soon caught the attention of St Helens AFC's manager Jack Friar, whilst his good looks captured the heart of Friar's daughter Margaret. Of course, being a former soldier in the Wehrmacht (and one awarded the Iron Cross to boot), Trautmann's reception in the town was initially a hostile one in the immediate aftermath of the war, and this struggle to be accepted was further magnified when he signed for Manchester City, one of the biggest clubs in England, in 1949. But Trautmann's gentlemanly conduct, his desire to move on and make the best of things, and his outstanding performances on the pitch soon won even his fiercest critics over. As a player with Man City, he will forever be remembered as 'the man who played on' when, during the 1956 FA Cup Final, he broke his neck but refused to leave the pitch until victory was secured.

It is very weird watching a film set in your hometown though, seeing locations on screen purporting to be places you know, and seeing household familiar actors portray people whose children, grandchildren and relations you also actually know to talk to. As I say, the location filming doesn't really look much like what St Helens looked like during this period (nowhere near industrial looking enough really) and the exterior location of the Junction Inn (my nearest pub) is particularly unrecognisable, I mean it's called the Junction because it's directly opposite the train station so to not factor that in was a bit remiss, but they've clearly worked from photos of the now demolished 'town ground', as us St Heleners affectionately called the team's ground, as the stands as depicted brought back memories. I often have an issue about accents and getting them right (and wrong) in films and it's fair to say that no one on the screen here really convinced me as coming from St Helens, with the possible exception of Barbara Young as Grandma Sarah. John Henshaw, who plays Jack Friar, is performing in his usual Manchester Ancoats accents, whilst Freya Mavor (playing Margaret) and the rest of the cast are doing a generic northern accent that often sounded more Yorkshire to my ears than Lancastrian. To be fair, St Helens is a strange accent these days, with no two people ever really sounding the same; some sound proper Lancastrian, whilst others sound scouse, but the former was definitely the way to go for the actors here. Did any of this detract from me appreciation of the film? No, not really. I'm just glad that they got some good details in - such as the team singing 'When the Saints Go Marching In', a St Helens anthem used for both football and rugby league - and have bothered to tell the story in the first place. It's been a long time coming; the actor Warren Clarke, a staunch Man City fan*, had long harboured a desire to make a film of Trautmann's extraordinary life and it's a shame that he didn't live to see this. 

I can't fault the performances either; David Kross is very good and believable as Trautmann, both on and off the pitch, and he possesses good chemistry with Mavor, an actress who is fast becoming a crush for me. John Henshaw is always good value, that goes without saying, but I did feel that the likes of Gary Lewis, Dervla Kirwan, Dave Johns and Julian Sands were a little wasted in their supporting roles. As a film, I wouldn't say The Keeper did anything spectacular and may hold little interest for anyone outside of the north west or those who do not follow football, but it was a very enjoyable watch that didn't seek to simply gloss over Trautmann's war record and the discomfort he felt about having to perform such a duty. I may be reading a little too much into it here, and I have to be a little careful about what I say, but in some respects The Keeper feels a little timely now as a Brexit movie. St Helens, to my eternal disappointment, was a leave voting town (as indeed were so many towns scarcely troubled by immigration and who had previously benefitted greatly from EU funding) so there's something of a contemporary resonance in seeing characters purporting to be from here (and later from Manchester) telling a German immigrant to go home and treating him with vitriol. Now obviously with the war, these people had a much greater and more genuine reason for hating a foreign migrant than any xenophobe has towards a wholly innocent one in today's climate, but I felt that the parallel was still there nonetheless and that the harmonious message of forgive and forget that the film has is one that is needed now more than ever. Then again, with the news as it is, maybe everything I view feels like it's shot through with Brexit nowadays.

*One other famous Man City fan also makes a contribution to the movie; Noel Gallagher's song, 'The Dying of the Light', plays over the closing credits.

RIP Gordon Banks

The 1966 World Cup winning goalkeeper Gordon Banks has died at the age of 81.

628 appearances in a fifteen year long football league career, with 73 caps for England. A sportsman and a gentleman. A sporting great.

RIP

Out On Blue Six: Gerry & the Pacemakers

My local ITV news programme, the legendary Granada Reports, met with Gerry Marsden of Gerry & the Pacemakers this evening who had some momentous news to share...he is retiring from performing after 60 years.

He may be packing public life in, but the strains of his hit Ferry Cross The Mersey will forever be heard as commuters and tourists depart from the Mersey Ferry into Liverpool...

Whilst his other big hit, You'll Never Walk Alone, will still reign at Anfield...

Thank you for the music, Mr Marsden

End Transmission

Out On Blue Six: Frank Sidebottom

Yesterday I amended my previous Out On Blue Six post to tell readers that I was unable to bring you the other track that I had completely forgotten about until watching an edition of Frank's Fantastic Shed Show, because YT doesn't have it. So instead of The Adventures and Marianne (for that was the track) I'm sharing a bit of Frank himself. He's been on Match of the Day y'know

End Transmission

Wordless Wednesday: Casuals

Out On Blue Six: The Farm

All Together Now...

End Transmission

We Almost Made it...

Ah balls.

It was not the result we wanted. Football didn't come home.

But you know what? Yeah there's a lot to be sad and pissed off about, there's a lot to feel deflated and heartbroken for, but at the same time, there's a lot to celebrate too.

I never really bought into 'football's coming home'. I didn't dare hope and anyway, what's home about it? I'm not going to kid myself that we, as a nation, invented kicking a ball. But it's worth remembering that when Baddiel and Skinner joined forces with the Lightning Seeds and wrote those words back in 1996, they were writing about the 'thirty years of hurt' since our national team last played in a World Cup final.

Tonight, our national team broke another near 'thirty years of hurt' since we last played in a World Cup semi-final and that is a great achievement. That they did that when no one dared dream or predict it is even more of an achievement and we should feel proud, not defeated. Proud. We beat the odds to get here, and we've still the third place play off to win.

Out On Blue Six: Baddiel and Skinner and The Lightning Seeds

It wasn't going to be any other song today was it?

Because hopefully...it's coming home

End Transmission

The 1990s: Football and Music in Perfect Harmony

Dave broadcast a thoroughly enjoyable trip down memory lane last night. Entitled Football's 47 Best Worst Songs it was your standard list show fare; a host of largely non entity talking heads (one was called a 'social media celebrity', um, what?) mix with recognisable faces to offer up opinions in an enjoyable clips package of all those ill advised world cup and FA cup anthems from the last forty or so years. But just occasionally, we were reminded of the times when football and music came together in perfect harmony (more often than not these times involved Keith Allen) and I think the best time that happened was the 1990s. Just check out these crackers to see what I mean...

A History Lesson For Boris Johnson

He's spent the week comparing Russia's hosting of the World Cup to Nazi Germany's 1938 Olympics, so it's time to remind him of a couple of things:

1) 20 million Russians were killed fighting the Nazis during World War II, so to liken them to Hitler's Nazis is both ignorant and disgusting.

2) Here's a photograph...

It shows the England football team ahead of a game in Berlin in the '38 Olympics, giving the Nazi salute.

They were instructed to perform the salute by the then British government...which was, of course, the Conservative party.

But what about the Russians, you might ask, did they give the Nazi salute to appeal to their hosts too?

Um no, Russia opted to boycott the '38 Olympics, seeing Nazism for exactly what it was.

The Goalie's Anxiety at the Penalty Kick - Die Angst Des Tormanns Beim Elfmeter (1972)

After being sent off for angrily contesting a goal as offside, goalkeeper Josef Bloch (Arthur Brauss) wanders aimlessly through a strange town, visiting the local cinema and picking up Gloria (Erika Pluhar), an attractive blonde cinema cashier. Following their night of passion, Bloch arbitrarily strangles her to death, before boarding a coach to visit old flame Hertha (Kai Fischer) in a quiet village on the East/West border. 

The Goalie's Anxiety at the Penalty Kick is a somewhat overlooked 1972 film from Wim Wenders that has been taken off the shelf, dusted off, restored and given a cinema release. Based on a novel by Peter Handke, it's an existential delight that owes much to Albert Camus' classic 1942 novel L’Étranger and to Camus' own previous occupation as a goalkeeper with Racing Universitaire d'Alger. Our protagonist has the same emotional detachment as Meursault, the man who felt nothing at his mother's death and who goes on to kill a man in the novel by Camus. Just like him, we're given no explanation for Bloch's homicidal behaviour or why he neither feels nothing at the sight of the body of a missing schoolboy, nor reports his findings to the police. 

Equally, the indifference he shows to his future goes without explanation too. The closest we get to it is in the film's final moments, when the meaning of the title becomes clear. In this scene, Bloch is watching a football match and strikes up a conversation with another spectator, a travelling salesman who, like him, is just passing through the town. Bloch tries to explain what he feels about football from the goalie's perspective, specifically the dilemma he is presented with regarding which way to go each time he faces a penalty. This dilemma is one that the village's policeman shares with Bloch in a late night conversation regarding having to second guess which way an offender is going to run. For Wenders, the moment between the goalie and the opposing player is a psychological confrontation and it serves as a parallel to Bloch's current situation: he hasn't gone on the run, isn't sure or indeed seemingly all that concerned about the possibility that the police may be on his trail, he is just existing from day to day in plain sight, feeling nothing once again. It's easy to see why Wenders would go on to so successfully adapt Ripley's Game as The American Friend in 1977, as Bloch is very much cut from the same cloth as Patricia Highsmith's literary anti-hero.

It's not all heavy existential ennui though; there's a fine streak of bone-dry humour playing out across the film that allows Brauss' otherwise murderous impassive demeanour the opportunity to afford this comic relief with a winning deadpan reaction. However, I could have done without the excessive use of Jürgen Knieper's monotonous score as it really rather began to grate, though I think that perhaps added to the stifling nature of the slow, introspective narrative.

Silent Sunday: Shoot!

Theme Time: Elvis Costello - Scully

The death of Tony Haygarth reminded me to blog about Scully today.

King of the scallies, Franny Scully remains scouse playwright Alan Bleasdale's most enduring character. Initially created to entertain the kids he was teaching, Bleasdale realised he was on to something and began to write the character's (mis)adventures in series of short stories which he submitted to BBC Radio Merseyside. The station loved them, and Bleasdale was subsequently invited to read them on air. From there, a Scully story was read out on the BBC2 arts series 2nd House, before he became a stage play, the subject of two novels, a recurring character in the Saturday morning kids TV show and regional TISWAS replacement The Mersey Pirate, the subject of a BBC Play For Today (Scully's New Year) and finally, a full length Granada TV series for Channel 4 in 1984.

If you can get past the fact that by 1984, Andrew Schofield was a very obvious 26-year-old playing the eponymous 16-year-old schoolboy, and that all his schoolmates were of a similar vintage too, then there was much to enjoy in Scully. On initial inspection, Scully seemed like a much needed bout of light relief for writer Alan Bleasdale following his searing masterpiece Boys From The Blackstuff just two years earlier. Light relief for many of the cast too, who returned for fresh roles here. But there's a dark undercurrent that runs through Scully beneath the humourous japes, the rites of passage tropes and the commentary on teenage life. The lack of opportunities awaiting the likes of Scully in the impoverished and neglected Liverpool of Thatcher's Britain are often alluded to and seemingly embodied by the Scully's recurring vision of his idol Kenny Dalglish during his everyday life - is this seemingly funny and surreal Billy Liar-esque device actually an example of serious psychosis borne from his relationship with his environment? As the series progressed things turned darker and more serious, leading to an extended finale that sees Scully's dreams of one day playing for Liverpool in tatters. It's a world away from some of the amusing slapstick elsewhere in the series and is deeply emotionally affecting. But that's not to say that the show wasn't very funny too, providing an authentic and endearing depiction of working class teenage life that is probably just as relevant today as it was back in 1984.

And the series boasted a great theme tune too - Turning the Town Red - from Elvis Costello, who also plays Scully's train obsessed simpleton brother, Henry (pictured above). It played over the opening credits which saw Scully training with Liverpool FC, before pulling on the Number 7 shirt and running onto the Anfield pitch to the cries of 'There's only one Francis Scully!' from the Kop faithful.

Go Now (1995)

Originally shown as part of the BBC's 1995 'Love Bites' season of one-off films (the excellent Loved Up starring Ian Hart and Lena Headey was also from this season) Go Now is a passionate and heartfelt film about the impact multiple sclerosis has on a young man and his relationship with his girlfriend. Starring Robert Carlyle and Juliet Aubrey, Go Now was written by Jimmy McGovern and MS sufferer Paul Henry Powell and directed by Michael Winterbottom. With such talent both in front of and behind the cameras it should come as no surprise to hear that the film went on to win several awards. Available at long last from Simply Media DVD, a pound from each sale goes to The MS Society UK.

Carlyle stars as construction worker and talented amateur footballer Nick Cameron whose life seems further blessed when he meets Karen (Aubrey) on a night out with his mate, played by James Nesbitt - who has less luck pulling Karen's mate, played by Sophie Okonedo.

But cracks start to appear in the happy ever after when Nick starts to experience numbness, double vision and a lack of energy. Several nervous visits to specialists confirm the worst and, as MS sets in, Nick begins to sink into depression as he loses his job, his sport and his libido. Angry at the hand fate has dealt him, Nick begins to lash out at Karen and begs her to leave him. Despite her love for him, will Karen comply with his wishes?

This electrifying film benefits greatly from the unsentimental and non-manipulative approach from the director, writers and the cast. This isn't some Oscar baiting Hollywood production that believes disability is the epitome of acting and a shoo-in for an award, it treats the highs and lows with the same approach, ensuring Go Now isn't the downer you may expect. Indeed, Go Now is often very funny thanks to the laddish humour of the football team and it is also romantic (and more authentic) as any love story. This even handed attitude means we get to know and care for Nick and Karen long before the MS storyline sets in, aided by the superb acting of Carlyle and Aubrey, which ensures the pitfalls that await them come with enough emotional heft for the viewer to invest in. The stakes are high, and the film doesn't shy away from the repercussions Nick's self-sacrifice invokes in Karen's behaviour either in a further example of how far removed from Hollywood Go Now actually is.

Watching Go Now again after 20 or so years is a pleasant nostalgic experience too as it captures something of the mid '90s beautifully. Shot on location in Bristol, it even features a cameo from Tricky in one bar/club scene, and boasts a fine supporting cast of familiar faces from TV of the day. This is a rich film with a direct line to your heart and marked Winterbottom down as a director with an unerring ability to depict emotions and complex situations in a refreshingly honest, realistic way that avoids cliche and predictability.

Erica Roe: A Stout Lass

Erica Roe shot to fame in 1982 when she unleashed her 40 inch bosom and streaked across the pitch of Twickenham stadium during an England V Australia rugby union match. She latter attributed the stunt to alcohol - I wonder if it was Davenports?

Davenports were the sponsors of Aston Villa, who lifted the European Cup that same year. Roe was a Villa fan, which naturally meant a photo opportunity, seemingly with a couple of pints of Davenports up her shirt.

Most recently, Roe has stripped again; this time for a charity calendar raising funds for breast cancer. She has also appeared in reality TV show The Island with Bear Grylls - presumably, she brought her own hammock.

Friday Night's Tele: Tina and Bobby, ITV

With its '60s period detail, its associated jukebox soundtrack and its great romance, ITV are clearly hoping for another hit like Cilla or Mrs Briggs with Tina and Bobby, the story of the great love between England's World Cup winning skipper Bobby Moore and his wife, Tina. However, they've neglected to include the one key ingredient that made those two previous productions so acclaimed; Sheridan Smith. 

As Tina, Michelle Keegan is no Sheridan Smith. She served her time on the cobbles of Coronation Street, where I believe she was extremely popular, but since then she has muddled her way through a high profile starring role in BBC's Our Girl (where she appeared to give a performance akin to a Suranne Jones tribute act in mumblecore mode) and now this, with a London accent that goes all over the place. 

As Bobby, Lorne MacFadyen fares much better and he keeps his own native (Scottish) accent in check, but he's hampered by the fact that Bobby's just a starry sideshow in former EastEnders scriptwriter Lauren Klee's hands. Because this is Tina's story, the ambitions of the production lie squarely on her shoulders as portrayed by Keegan, and they're just to slender to carry it, whilst Klee's corny, soapy dialogue further scuppered any admirable intentions.

It also didn't help that the production is so obviously cheap too. Mixing black and white footage of the action on the pitch with the reactions of the cast in the stands was a bad idea, but far worse was to come when Tina and Bobby jetted off to Spain for their honeymoon - including a risible studio shoot against a blue sky backdrop that reminded me of '80s sitcom Duty Free. 

Ultimately, Tina and Bobby may be about one of our fondly remembered golden couples, but in depicting their love it has all the emotional depth and resonance of a soppy photo story from a '60s teenager's magazine. I'll give part two a try but right now the feeling is 'they think it's all over...'

Bathing Beauty

Fiona Richmond and Crystal Palace manager Malcolm Allison in the player's bath

It Was Twenty Years Ago Today...

Two moments of triumph and tragedy that occurred on this day twenty years ago, 15th June, 1996.

Paul Gascoigne's beautiful goal against Scotland in the Euro 96 tournament. England won 2-0 and Gazza celebrated in style, recreating the infamous 'Dentist Chair' 

The IRA bomb in Manchester was a 3,300 pound truck bomb; the biggest bomb ever used in their terrorist campaign on the mainland. It destroyed much of the city centre and led to 200 casualties but thankfully, no fatalities.

Justice Comes To Liverpool

In the many news reports aired today, the same sentiment was repeated over and over; that Liverpool felt like a different city today, a city that could breathe again now that justice has been granted for the 96 victims of the Hillsborough disaster.

I had the privilege of being in the crowds this afternoon outside St George's Hall to pay my respects. It was a deeply moving sight, seeing the floral tributes and people laying bouquets, scarves, and T-shirts on the steps before the chimes of the town hall bells echoed across the city 96 times in commemoration not just of those who lost their lives, but those who campaigned long and hard for 27 years for this day. But it was an uplifting experience too, as we realised we had come together, no longer just in grief, but in triumph that justice had finally won out. 

I'd been at a picket line for striking junior doctors in the city earlier in the day too and found that to be a great experience of people coming together and uniting in a common cause too, so it really was something of a double whammy for me to experience today.

Unfortunately I couldn't hang around all day and so I was not one of the approximate 30,000 that lines the pavements from Lime Street Station to St George's Hall this evening. A shame, as it looked like a night to remember.

But, do I think Liverpool feels different? I think that, whilst we would all give anything for Hillsborough not to have happened (and by the same token for the NHS not to be in the crippling state it is currently in) it is nice to be in a position to reacquaint ourselves with a sense of solidarity, support and community spirit. To rub shoulders with people, chat and smile and feel for once like we're all part of something, and that things can change if we all stand together. 

If you ask me, Liverpool carries on, just like it always has, but perhaps with its head held a little higher and with less woes upon its shoulders after today.

It will never walk alone.

Justice at Last

Great news from Warrington; the 96 victims of 1989's Hillsborough disaster have finally been granted the justice they so long deserved. The jury returned to state that they were the victims of gross negligence and unlawfully killed.

The jury found that Ch Supt David Duckenfield's actions breached his duty of care to the football supporters that day, that failures by him and commanding officers led to the crush on the terraces and confusion regarding the opening of the Leppings Lane exit, and that police errors overall led to the dangerous situation at the turnstiles. They also found that the major incident was not declared quickly enough by the South Yorks constabulary and Ambulance Service, leading to delays in the emergency response. 

They also found that the Sheffield Wednesday stadium itself had defects and an incorrect safety certificate amongst other issues.

The 27 year campaign from the families and survivors is at last fully vindicated and David Cameron has praised their long struggle - interesting, considering how for many years the Tories seemed content to lay the blame squarely at the fans door thanks to inactivity and the slurs made by Tory fave The Scum.