Some might say the British equivalent of "American Graffiti", but actually released earlier, this is an altogether grittier and to these British eyes and ears superior take on the teenage experience at the birth of rock and roll, covering a time span from the bleak post-war period to the arrival of the nascent 60's beat boom, from where of course the sequel "Stardust" takes up. Written by the well-known UK music journalist Ray Connolly, one of John Lennon's many biographers, it's obvious to see reference points taken and adapted from the Beatle's early life, from his early abandonment by his father, to his predilection for writing and sketching, harmonica-playing and most obviously his casual marriage to his young blonde "safe" local sweetheart, whom he selfishly abandons at the end leaving behind his new-born child to boot (although Lennon of course didn't get round to that until he was at the height of his celebrity). The story is episodic and as with most rock-music films unavoidably clichéd at times, resembling an abridged beat-version of "Tom Jones" as Essex, here playing his first lead role as the anti-hero Jim McLaine, influenced sub-consciously by his wandering absent-father and naturally rebellious of conformity (personified here by his friendship with his best friend, an ever-so-straight, trad-jazz loving university student, played by a young Robert Lindsay) drops out to a life of debauchery on the fairground, where he learns the ropes and soon outstrips his older, more experienced chum on the Waltzers, Ringo Starr. The evocation of place is very well conveyed, from the bleak two-up, two-down post-war accommodation, the downbeat charm of an off-season holiday resort and of course all the fun (and seediness) of the fair, which Essex the recording artist later revisited in probably his best known album, called, in fact "All The Fun Of The Fair". The performances are uniformly good although the less experienced acting abilities of Essex and Starr take a little time to become properly natural as the film develops. Essex's playing is pivotal naturally and he bears up very well, using his good-looking "Romany"-type features to advantage as the lovable rogue with whom we naturally identify, although latter day viewers might be offended by his casual approach to women, demonstrated not only by his easy stag-night seduction of his fiancée's best friend and his ingratitude to his admittedly strict and chiding mother but particularly an at least mildly offensive scene where he gloats about his forced conquest of a presumably underage schoolgirl to a censorious Starr. The young Essex around this time was firing artistically on all cylinders with success on the West End ("Godspell") as well as early blossoming acting and musical careers. It's rather a pity that all three of these strands appear to have fizzled out for him after some early high-spots (especially his acting, from this evidence), although he still does the rounds profitably enough as an establishment-type entertainer. The support playing is solidly characterised and I also enjoyed the cameos played effectively by the late Billy Fury and Keith Moon. Beatles addicts will cotton onto the in-joke reference to Starr's pre-Beatles band "Rory Storm and The Tempests", here inverted to Fury's character "Stormy Tempest". It's a much quoted truism that US rock and roll from the late 50's and early 60's beats its British equivalent hands down and while there is some truth in that, here at least on the cinematic front, is a British riposte which definitely cuts the mustard, although it probably helps if you're from this island to relate to the background places and sounds on display here.
Review of That'll Be the Day
