One notable omission from almost all of ubiquitous ‘best films of the year’ lists is Steve McQueen’s Blitz. This film certainly has not generated the kind of the buzz one might have expected from such a high profile director dealing with such a timeless (at least to we Brits) subject matter.
When it comes to the cinematic treatment of race and identity in the UK, all paths sooner or later lead back to Empire. Although much is made of the cultural ‘revolution’ of Beatlemania and the sixties, the collective trauma of the second world war remains a watershed event for the nation’s self-image. There is an abiding myth that Britain alone defeated the Nazis; that the triumph over fascism came about because of the oratory of Winston Churchill and the songs of Vera Lynn. This is why, almost three quarters of a century after the end of empire, wartime events remain a potent reference point on the question what it means to be British
Despite this, McQueen’s tortuous Occupied City about the aftermath of wartime trauma in Amsterdam in the Netherlands gained more plaudits than the story of a bombed out London, England. Perhaps it was an the error for Blitz to go to streaming (on Apple TV) rather than trying to built momentum in cinemas. Is this the modern equivalent of straight to video releases? Ironically, McQueen was on record as aiming to reach as wide an audience as possible. For the moment at least he seems to have failed.
Blitz is first and foremost a piece of popular entertainment yet the film also pointedly depicts the nation’s ambivalence towards a multi-cultural society. The events are seen from the point of view of George, a nine year boy of mixed race. The racism he experiences suggests that the assumption of white superiority was firmly established. In the film, blacks and whites are only shown to be truly integrated while dancing in the jazz clubs. The unjustified arrest and subsequent deportation of George’s Grenadian father, before he was born, are indicative of the treatment non-whites had to come to terms with. Comments to the effect that mother is “damaged goods” because she has a young “monkey” to look after belong to the same racist climate.
McQueen’s colouring in of the ‘Blitz spirit’ as a white myth is more than justified since Black and Asian servicemen played such a vital part in the victory of the allies. His standpoint does not negate the strength in community nor does it undermine the respect for the unflappable character of the Londoners.
The inclusion of nostalgic particulars are there to celebrate the resilient mood of the nation. These include jolly pub singalongs, morale-boosting BBC radio programming (Music While You Work), kids playing cricket in the street and a Punch & Judy show (with Hitler as Punch). Women in their newfound role as factory workers know “our boys are relying on us” and realise that patience and perseverance is the order of the day: “we don’t mind waiting; we’re British.”
But this cheery ‘keep calm and carry on’ response to a nation in turmoil is by no means the complete picture. Kathy Burke plays one of the ghoulish Dickensian gang who loot shops and rob corpses. These opportunist criminals show that the good-natured camaraderie had a shadow side. In an interview in Sight & Sound , Burke warns against sanitising uncomfortable truths of Britain’s history in characteristically blunt terms “I think there’s too much looking at the past through rose-coloured spectacles. It’s incredibly harmful to rewrite history. It wasn’t all Blitz spirit, and ‘let’s have a cup of tea’. That’s a crock of shit.”
Based on the lukewarm response to the film it may be that audiences still prefer the sentimentalised white version of British history; a case perhaps of the Empire strikes back.
