Wah-Wah Movie Review
Wah-Wah Review

"Wah-Wah" Overview

Rating: R
2006
Cast and Crew
Director : Richard E. GrantProducer : Marie-Castille Mention-Schaar,Pierre Kubel,Jeff Abberley
Screenwiter : Richard E. Grant
Starring : Gabriel Byrne,Emily Watson,Julie Walters,Nicholas Hoult,Miranda Richardson
The obvious risk with autobiographical films is that audiences just might not
in the end be interested in the same sort of story that the filmmaker wants to
tell about himself. So it is with Wah-Wah, written and directed by Richard E.
Grant, who based it on his own childhood growing up in Swaziland in the years
leading up to the end of British rule – Grant might want to focus most on the
film’s dysfunctional (though fun in its own way) family and its effect on his
young stand-in, but viewers may be left wondering what’s going on outside that
melodrama. It’s a big world out there, and Grant only gives us teasing glances
at it.
The boy at the center of everything is Ralph Compton, 11 years old in the film’
s preamble, in which he watches (once literally, from the back seat) as his
mother Lauren (Miranda Richardson) screws a married man and then takes off with
him. The divorce proves ugly and Ralph is sent off to boarding school, leaving
his devastated father Harry (Gabriel Byrne) behind, fending off the occasional
advance from local females. The film starts properly three years later with the
return home of Ralph, this time played by Nicholas Hoult, sprouted quite a bit
from his About a Boy days. Ralph comes back to find Harry just remarried, this
time to an American stewardess he’s known for six weeks, Ruby (Emily Watson).
She’s a breath of warm air, waltzing right into this snobbish little colonial
backwater and immediately breaks practically every one of their thousand little
etiquettes – night and day to the waspish, scathing Lauren. But yet it’s not
enough to keep Harry from hitting the bottle hard. Harry drinks, Ruby frets,
Ralph fumes, and occasionally Lauren returns just to stir things up to an even
higher pitch.
The backdrop to all the drama inside the Compton house (a cozy little colonial
cottage, if you like that sort of thing) is the fact that it’s 1969 and the sun
is about to set on this corner of the British Empire. The colonials are about
to take down the Union Jack and hand the country back to the Swazis – Princess
Margaret is coming to do the honors. The problem being that nobody seems to
know what they’re going to do after Independence. The other problem being that
Grant’s script (adapted from parts of his With Nails autobiography) doesn’t
really address this part of the story in any depth. There’s some perfunctory
noise made about Independence, and some easy fun is had at the expense of the
clueless colonials, who decide to mark the occasion by putting on an amateur
performance of Camelot in a Waiting for Guffman-esque subplot. It’s hard to
tell what the tone is through the parts of the film not dealing with the
Compton’s dysfunctionality, as it seems to sway somewhere between terribly
relevant drama (the Patrick Doyle score is far more serious than the subject
matter deserves) and straight farce.
Quite serious script and tone problems aside, the film at least shows Grant to
be an excellent director of actors, all of whom deliver wonderfully warm,
natural performances (this is ironic, given that as a performer, Grant has
tended to shrill caricatures, nothing close to which you’ll find here). The
usually dour Byrne has a surprisingly light touch here, playing a generally
decent man who turns monstrous with drink but returns quickly to his winking,
jolly self in the morning. Watson is nothing short of fantastic, wearing her
big, broad American accent like a bullhorn, scattering all before her. Together
they make for a smart and likeable couple, the kind of parents one can actually
see a child suffering through some truly horrendous domestic scenes in order to
stay with.
Given how much raw material there is to go on, it’s surprising that Wah-Wah
doesn’t feel meatier than it does. It’s a flippant and confused film, striving
for dabs of comedy here, some lashes of drama over there, and rumbling to a
close with some shameless twanging of the heartstrings. It’s a story not quite
worthy of those on screen who are telling it.
Reviewed at the 2006 Tribeca Film Festival.
Have a whiskey, little man.
Reviewer: Chris Barsanti



