Dir. Alex De Rakoff, 2004, UK, 115 mins
Cast: Orlando Bloom, Omid Djalili, Rafe Spall, David Kelly
If director Alex De Rakoff was hoping that Orlando Bloom could inject some billion dollar blockbuster magic into this insipid Britcom he chose as his directorial debut, he is doubtless as disappointed as the thousands of Legolas fans will be. Mr Bloom undoubtedly has endless untapped thespian tricks up his sleeve, besides looking beautifully noble in pointy ears and proving rather nifty with a broadsword, and hopefully, his witless milkman-cum-pugilist won't take the shine off anything and everything else he might have to offer.
The Calcium Kid tells the story of Jimmy Connelly, a surprising last minute contender for the boxing match of the century. Suspend disbelief that the series of unlikely events which lead an amateur boxer- albeit with bones as hard as concrete - to fight the world champion middleweight could even hope to take place. The main problem is that while De Rakoff's script demands a sweetness and heartfelt performance from Jimmy, what Bloom delivers is a starry eyed, soggy simpleton with an accent straight out of a posh London drama school. Bloom's stilted, my-first-real-audition-esque monologues to the camera leave us unconvinced he could swat a fly without weeping, let alone break a man's hand with his head.
Although Bloom's unconvincing part-cockney, part whimsical period drama accent grates within the authentically tatty South London setting, he is surrounded by a supporting cast of sufficient comedic talent to make The Calcium Kid worth a second look, if only from the point of view of canny casting directors looking to propel the likes of newcomer Rafe Spall (son of Timothy) and Iranian comic Omid Djalili on to greater - and funnier - heights. Spall as Jimmy's personal motivator Stan, hilariously spewing out clichéd rhymes of encouragement during training, whilst obliviously scratching his crotch is a slothful, blubbery delight. Whilst Ronni Ancona's woefully tiny role as Jimmy's whoreish "massage therapist" mother from hell, will be remembered long after the film itself.
The best lines go to Djalili, who as Herbie Bush, a lairy Jew/Greek/Arab pastiche of a boxing manager with delusions of grandeur, manages to hold together the flimsy plot with his desperate scrabbling for credibility (and his bizarre, camped-up boyband version of God Save The Queen). But returning to the form we expect from caustic British comedy, the classroom scene where gormless Jimmy is taunted as a "pussy" by eleven-year-olds into breaking a wooden desk lid over his head is one of the film's genuinely laugh-out-loud moments. Unless you consider Billie Piper's awkward attempts at seductive smiling in between her two lines, which is either very funny, or very very disturbing .
The film is supposed to be a documentary, which gets old almost as soon as the opening scene. With Ricky Gervais' The Office having almost exclusively squeezed every last drop of success out of that particular avenue of humour, it's reduced here to nothing more than an annoying ploy that can't quite mask the gaping holes in the final product. Thankfully, this technique is lost in the concluding showdown, which as an antidote to formulaic, anticipated ending, may go some way to exonerating the tedium of the build-up to this point. It's certainly more enjoyable than watching a camp, Karate-Kid style flying kick facilitating the puny underdog's journey to the podium to collect their trophy.
Boxing seems to have limitless potential in terms of storyline and character development within the Britflick sphere, which makes it a risky move on De Rakoff's part to set his directorial debut against the likes of Snatch and Billy Elliot. But while Snatch steals the corner of the gritty comedy drama complete with attractive and engaging caricatures, and Billy Elliot successfully sold itself on the heart and soul of the dichotomy resulting from the pro-boxing, anti-ballet northern machismo, it is here where The Calcium Kid lets itself down. Although ultimately, this patchy comedy gets its message across - through the well hackneyed platitudes spouted by Jimmy's jailbird dad via Jimmy's witless parrotism - we are not seeing anything here that we haven't seen Working Title previously execute far more poignantly. Jimmy's dad says "nothing's out of reach if you have long arms". Except, perhaps, box office success?
Andrea Hubert
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