By Dawn Dabell
Can
it really be 25 years since the release of The
Commitments? An acclaimed hit with audiences and critics alike when first
seen, it quickly grew in stature into something of a modern classic and has
remained perennially popular ever since. It has also inspired touring bands, a
major stage production and a few million sub-standard karaoke renditions of the
iconic Mustang Sally (and other
ditties) in pubs up and down the land.
Unemployed
Jimmy Rabbitte (Robert Arkins) dreams of being a band manager, and places an ad
in the local paper – “Have you got soul? If so the world’s hardest working band
is looking for you.†Various losers, opportunists and drop-outs turn up at his
door to audition, but bit by bit he manages to put together an inexperienced
band comprising ten members: men, women, backing singers, guitarists,
saxophonists, a drummer and an unlikely lead vocalist in the shape of slobbish
Deco (Andrew Strong). Their specialty is soul music and, with Jimmy’s undimmed
enthusiasm driving them (“say it once, say it loud: I'm black and I'm proudâ€)
they begin rehearsing for their debut gig. The name of the band: The
Commitments.
Tensions
run amok among the band members, but despite their off-stage bickering they
prove surprisingly terrific on-stage.
Around Dublin their reputation grows and they find themselves on the verge of
greatness, receiving glowing reviews in the local press and growing
word-of-mouth hype. On the night of their biggest gig, saxophonist Joey ‘The Lips’
Fagan (Johnny Murphy) assures the band he has arranged for soul and R&B
legend Wilson Pickett to join them on-stage after performing his sell-out gig
in Dublin. By this point, the bands’ internal politics are at breaking point.
Can they keep their tempers at bay long enough to hit the big-time, or will
this show mark the final curtain for The Commitments?
Director
Alan Parker does a wonderful job, creating a hilarious view of working class
Dublin. He doesn’t shy away from the bleaker, grittier elements, showing
rundown shacks used as shops in the middle of a ramshackle housing estate,
drunken pub brawls, foul-mouthed street altercations, dreary living conditions,
garbage piled high, and people bickering about sex and music through their
unremittingly glum, booze-drenched days. There is nothing glamorous about the
film: it is a feel-good movie in some
ways, but there is equally a feel-bad vibe running beneath it all at the same
time.
The
band is thrown together from an advert in a local paper, with potential talents
auditioning in Jimmy’s cluttered front room, or even out on the street, while
he watches from an armchair or even from the bath-tub with his shower cap on.
Parker’s characters use words like ‘fuck’ or ‘shit’ as regularly as they use
basic determiners and nouns, yet he somehow invests them with love and warmth
and makes them people worth rooting for. Over his career, Parker worked on a
number of successful musicals including Bugsy
Malone (1976), Fame (1980) and Evita (1996). Critics have drawn parallels
between The Commitments and Fame, citing this as an Irish
counterpart. Although Parker is a great director, it is surprising to note he
only has 19 directing credits to his name. With him, it’s all about quality not
quantity: he has proven himself a brilliant director across numerous genres
with films such as Midnight Express
(1978), Shoot The Moon (1982), Mississippi Burning (1988), Angela’s Ashes (1999) and The Life of David Gale (2003). Parker
shows up briefly in a Hitchcock-style cameo as a producer at Eejit Records, the
label which shows interest in signing the band.