Joie et réconfort

Anything Bill Forsyth does is worth collecting. You will like some movies more than others, but they're all gems - the antithesis of the Hollywood movie that has to come out of the screen and grab you, yank you. This is film making about people; this is a movie about the human spirit; there are elements of Fawlty Towers in here, the way certain plot elements gradually collide; viewers across the pond may feel bored, expecting something to 'happen' in the sense they are used to; but Forsyth is the best there is for the human soul.

See it - and collect it.

Comfort and Joy had all the ingredients to be a true British classic. Fine actors, good director and the backdrop of 1980s Glasgow - a city in transition where a real ice-cream van territorial war (involving drug gangs) was escalating during the depths of Thatcherism.

Being a resident in Glasgow at the time and witnessing the devastation of Thatcherism on my home city, that included, high unemployment, low economic growth combined with the break up of communities - as inner city slums were being demolished and extended peripheral housing estates were growing - there was a formidable background to work with and make a film of true social comment. Instead Forsyth indulged in whimsy with a script that one might have come from the basement floor of the then derelict Ealing Studios.

With the material available, this could have been a very different film in the hands of say directors such as Ken Loach or John McKenzie. However the script is pretty lame, though it has some witty moments it lacks real punch.

In the lead role, Bill Paterson as savvy DJ Alan "Dickie" Bird carries the movie. His performance is a pre-curser to his excellent acting as gangster Ally Fraser in the TV series Auf Wiedersehen Pet some three years later.

The premise of the film is, DJ Dickie Bird gets caught up in an ice cream turf war and acts as mediator between the two gangs to bring about a peaceful workable solution.

In terms cinematography, its filmed quite well, some of the scenes are in exact locations where I grew up and Forsyth uses the camera to effectively capture the atmosphere of the time and place. However it's the plot and script that disappoint and leave one thinking what might have been had the comedy been darker and the plot more realistic.

In the end, just like ice cream and a City undergoing massive changes, Comfort and Joy simply melts aways into the mundane but the film might be remembered as a a marker for Paterson's progress as an leading actor and for those who might want to see Glasgow through Forsyth's lens in the grip of Thatcherism.

This film's main plot ingredient is ice cream...but until it gets there (10 - 20 minutes in), it's surprisingly bland for a Bill Forsyth movie. Nevertheless, if you can make it through that beginning, you're in for a treat...maybe not on the order of a pint of Ben and Jerry's, but at least a fudgsicle from the corner mini-mart. It's also an unsung Christmas movie, good to check out if you're tired of seeing It's a Wonderful Life or A Christmas Story over and over. Cheerio, folks!

It's instructive to look at Bill Forsyth's mid-Eighties comedy in light of the Alan Partridge cycle of television shows, in which Steve Coogan portrayed a monstrously egotistical radio presenter completely unaware of the fact that everyone hates him, and would rather see him off the airwaves as soon as possible. Likewise Bill Paterson's "Dickie" (actually Alan) Bird comes across as someone so wrapped up in his radio persona that he cannot see what's happening around him. In the ersatz world of jingles, pop music, and inane chatter, he is a big star; to everyone else he is nothing but a pain. It's thus hardly surprising that his long-time girlfriend Maddy (Eleanor David) chooses to move out.

Set around Christmastime in the center of Glasgow, COMFORT AND JOY looks as if it might be a highly ironic title for a film whose central character cannot find inner peace, and who becomes unwittingly involved in a turf war between rival ice cream sellers. What makes Bill Forsyth's film so endearing is the way he shows so many people making mountains out of emotional and personal windmills. Glasgow is sufficiently big to accommodate both the McCool cartel led by the Mafia-style boss (Roberto Bernardi), as well as the more fly-by- night outfit led by Trevor (Alex Norton). It is simply pride - as well as other issues - that prevents them from arriving at a deal.

As the action unfolds, however, so Alan/Dickie undergoes something of a change of character. He finds out that he can make things happen - not by trying to sustain his arrogant radio persona, but rather treating people on their own terms. He manages to find a particularly satisfying resolution to bring the two sides in the ice cream war together, leaving him ready and willing to face the world with renewed vigor. He might be on his own on Christmas Day, but he understands the importance now of maintaining relationships, both personal and public.

Shot in muddy color in perhaps the most anti-Thatcherite of cities, COMFORT AND JOY offers a glimpse of life beyond the mid-1980s illusion of prosperity and individual self-improvement. People struggle to survive in this city in whatever way they can, even if it means selling ice cream for a living. Their world deserves to be recognized, even though very different from English life at the same time.

The film is replete with memorable cameos, from Scottish actor Rikki Fulton's Hilary - Alan's smooth-talking boss who thinks his star employee has gone barking mad - to C. P. (aka Clare) Grogan's stellar turn as Charlotte. COMFORT AND JOY might be a film with a morally soft center, but it manages to make some acute social observations along the way.

"Comfort and Joy" is a deceptive film. It begins as a story about those dim, lonely days following a break-up, and turns into a fantastical tale of the dark underworld behind ice cream vendor territorial disputes (!). Yeah, that's what I thought too. How could this work, and who writes this stuff? Bill Forsyth was an exceedingly strange filmmaker. He made movies often thinly disguised as comedy, but with a heart of deep alienation and loneliness. This film, in fact, could almost be a distorted mirror of more nihilistic loner films like "Taxi Driver".

There are passages in "Comfort and Joy" which are utterly dreamlike. The cinematography takes over in nighttime scenes, all deep focus and glowing orbs of unfocused light. Chris Menges photographs his images with a wonderfully real sense. It's this feeling which makes the film true bordering on painful. Bill Paterson (as Alan Bird) enters into this world like someone who'd been sleepwalking. He's subtle, silent, often bemused. He's like a lesson on how to create a character, in the purest sense.

I must say that "Comfort and Joy" is a very specific sort of film. And a very good one, I think. But there's a large portion which depends directly on mood. It's very possible to not enjoy it. But it is real, and that in itself is a wondrous achievement.