Pride

A sensitive coming-of-age tale; an astute commentary on the politics of the 80s; and a newly Welsh Imelda Staunton brandishing a dildo -- how could this be anything other than brilliant? Pride is raucously funny and unapologetically camp, yet its humour is always firmly couched in a respect for its subject matter: the shared struggle of mining communities and gay rights activists in a decade of social and economic upheaval.

Things begin in Croydon, where the frustrated, outspoken Mark Ashton (Ben Schnetzer) is looking for a cause to back. The plight of the miners provides the perfect opportunity for demonstrative action. And so, the succinctly named Lesbians and Gays Support the Miners (LGSM) is born -- a group which includes the still closeted Joe (George MacKay) and a wonderfully bleached Dominic West as Jonathan, an ageing thesp. Inevitably, tension and hilarity ensue when they shack up with their reluctant comrades in a tiny mining village in South Wales.

Where this film really succeeds is in capturing the intense social web that exists in such small, rural places. Power is wielded by those who have survived it the longest -- in this case, a wonderfully eccentric best-of-British lineup including Staunton, as the inimitable Hefina, and Bill Nighy as the modestly tortured Cliff. When LGSM arrive, friction blisters between the opposing factions, although the demarcations are not always clear. 

Pride doesn't exactly go in for gritty realism. There are several references to the deeply ugly, often violent effects of homophobia, but any examination of prejudicial structures is fairly light. Matthew Warchus is keen to keep his film in the crowd-pleasing realm of sex toys and 80s disco. And there is nothing wrong with that. There is some truly touching evidence of human empathy amongst the gags (in both senses), and moments of comic levity are often balanced by an awareness of the hysteria surrounding homosexuality, which found its focus in the AIDS crisis. 

This is a film of fiery divisions and unexpected unions. It works because it plays to its strengths, namely a brilliant cast and a razor-sharp script. All jokes aside, the song of protest at its core is one inscribed on British social history, and here it is given a worthy rendition.