by Peter Callaghan

Taron Egerton is Eddie “The Eagle” Edwards. Who would have thought! It’s a bit like saying Brian Blessed is Rudolf Nureyev or Ronnie Corbett is James Dean. On paper, it doesn’t work. But much like the real-life ski jumper who captured the nation’s heart during the 1988 Calgary Winter Olympics, on the silver screen it’s a triumph over adversity which ranks alongside, though not quite as good as, Billy Elliot; and goes to show that after his success as Colin Firth’s protege in Kingsman: The Secret Service and Tom Hardy’s bit on the side in Legend, there are more strings to Egerton’s bow than a winning smile and a pushy agent. Though if he’s planning a career in obscure biopics, I think the following roles may prove a step too far: the beer-swigging dart-chucker from Fife, Jocky Wilson; one half of the Auchtermuchty strummers, The Proclaimers; and perhaps most challenging of all, Eric Cullen aka Wee Burney from Rab C Nesbitt. If he can nail those, respect!

Joking aside (for the time being), Taron Egerton’s star is not the only one that is rising because director Dexter Fletcher, in only his third feature after the self-penned Wild Bill and BAFTA Scotland-nominated Sunshine On Leith, has crafted a feel-good romp which will appeal to young and old, male and female, sporty and get tae! alike. In fact, for the opening sequence alone he deserves some kind of award (The Opies?) for in the length of time it takes the credits to roll, he quickly and humorously establishes the principal characters, their relationships to one another, the world in which they live and the hopes and dreams of the main protagonist which forms the arc of the tight 105 minutes that follow. Bravo! And Oscar Echo! for not falling into the trap of so many promising film-makers who take an eternity to set out the who, where, what and why.

The story of Eddie the Eagle – or rather Far From Steady the Seagull on account of his childhood leg braces and propensity for dive-bombing rather than soaring – is well-known, but Fletcher along with his screenwriters Sean Macaulay and Simon Kelton have done a fine job of keeping things fresh by focusing on Eddie’s naive response to the allure of women and the bravado of alpha men; and, much like the James Corden vehicle One Chance about the inaugural winner of Britain’s Got Talent Paul Potts, for being liberal with the truth. The names have been changed not so much to protect the innocent, but to cut to the chase and ratchet up the tickle-o-meter. We first meet the far-sighted son of a “plucky plasterer” in the bath where, as a child, he is striving to beat his breath-holding record of 58 seconds. Mission accomplished! From there, it’s spear-chucking, shot-putting, high-jumping, sprint-running and, erm, hurdle-hurdling. Think a white Daley Thompson with a black belt in human origami!

Terra firma gives way to aerial gymnastics when he discovers a poster of the Alps in his sporting shrine of a bedroom and learns that the Olympic qualifying standards for ski jumping are looser than a lady of the night’s lingerie. From his redbrick council house in Cheltenham a child his torn to a wooden chalet in Bavaria where an athlete is born and becomes the “sober fool” student of the “drunken coward” coach Bronson Peary (Hugh Jackman) who according to his former mentor Warren Sharp (Christopher Walken) was once a champion ski jumper who fell from grace because he thought he was “bigger than the hill”. In comical scenes part-Rocky, part-Frank Spencer, the oddest of odd couples engage in an intense training regime which culminates in Bronson asking his blushing student to simulate sex with his screen idol Bo Derek. What follows are a series of mechanical manoeuvres and moans more Megatron than Meg Ryan!

The rest of the film is devoted to qualifying for and then competing at Calgary with the odd bit of class warfare thrown in for good measure. The British Olympic Committee come out of it looking like an old boys club populated by Etonian toffs and privileged pen-pushers whose duty it is to utilise £4.5m of public funds and corporate sponsorship to bolster their profile and enable young men with double-barrelled surnames and wealthy parents to embark on an “it’s not what you know, it’s who you know” jolly. The other opposing agents which add to the dramatic mix are Eddie’s non-supportive father Terry (an under-used Keith Allen) who plays bad cop to his doting wife Janette (Jo Hartley) and the very real dangers of the sport which are illustrated by a number of critical injuries to fellow competitors and Bronson’s quip: “As we say in the Wild West, they’ll be measuring you for a coffin before you even reach the stairs.”

Despite my initial reservations about the casting of Taron Egerton as the lead, he is excellent. His physical transformation of jutting out his jaw and peering down his nose may lack the psychological layers of, say, method school disciples Daniel Day-Lewis and Christian Bale, but his performance is a winning mixture of sweetness and naivety, bafflement and determination. Hugh Jackman is in fine form as the boozy Bronson who comes to the late realisation that, in the words of Olympics founder Pierre de Coubertin, “The most important thing in the Olympic Games is not to win but to take part, just as the most important thing in life is not the triumph but the struggle. The essential thing is not to have conquered but to have fought well.” And Jim Broadbent and Christopher Walken offer stellar support in cameo roles. Comparisons to Billy Elliot are unavoidable; and though Eddie The Eagle lacks depth, gritty realism and political undertones, it should be remembered that it is only a PG whereas the former is rated 15. What they have in common though is a spirit of hope, humour and humanity that anyone, no matter their background, can overcome adversity and strive to go faster, higher and stronger.

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Peter Callaghan
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