On Peterloo

In October Wesley Morris wrote an article for The New York Times magazine titled ‘The Morality Wars’ that, amongst other things, posed a question about whether art should be impervious to criticism because it is important inasmuch as it offers a voice to those who have, historically, been without one. Morris used as his jumping off point Issa Rae’s TV show, Insecure (2016 -).

But can we ask the same thing of Mike Leigh’s Peterloo; his latest film about the massacre at St Peter’s Field in Manchester, where the upper classes and ruling monarchy were involved in the deaths of a neglected and voiceless working class? The film is generally well regarded, especially in the UK (although the right wing tabloids are, predictably and without real artist merit against the film simply because it gives the working class left a voice. The same happened with 2016’s I, Daniel Blake, a far superior film). Yet, it is possible that serious film criticism has not seen the film for the message. Peterloo is a struggle to watch. The same message is repeated over and over again, whether that of the judges representing the crown or the workers organising themselves to protest for the vote, we are constantly battered with messages in length that do nothing for narrative, but instead seem designed to educate us. As any teacher will tell you, the best intended audience will switch off after 20 minutes of being lectured at if it’s not diverse or interactive in delivery.

Peterloo’s narrative is simple; we are leading to a protest and a one sided battle. The promotional material tells us this. What the film desperately needs is character and it has none. It an attempt to show the scope of the issue Leigh gives us many voices, when all the film really needs one. One consistent, developed character and in the beginning we think we have this with the returning solider with PTSD, but he becomes nothing more than a glass eyed representation of the horror of war; his death rendered ineffectual at creating sympathy or empathy.

The large remaining cast are drawn from well-worn stereotypes that have become so ingrained in our shared cultural memories from TV like Black Adder the Third (1987) or films such as Disney’s A Christmas Carol (2009) that here they are farcical rather than effectively realistic. Issues of realism are difficult, but Leigh’s decision to have the upper judiciary classes all wobbling double chins and red cheeked or bony fingered and dressed in black is tiresome. The police chief in his black robes and mean stare feels insulting, as if the audience are unable to judge ideology or choose sides without the help of childish images. And while there are plenty of strong willed, effective working class characters there are just as many who stare blankly when issued simple instructions or show themselves unable to converse with the London metropolitan elite. There may well have been characters just like these, but Leigh must be aware of the manner in which such characters have been used before and the weight these stereotypical representations bring with them. They are tired and lazy and much like watching an episode of Black Adder without the comedy or awareness of the absurdity.

A film with an important message such as this demands and deserves to have another way in found. For the message does matter and it matters today as much as it did then, which is why the need to educate should have been matched with a desire to entertain. As Morris was exploring, is there space to show deference for a topic and a voice while still finding, in this instance a film, artistically lacking? Are we allowed to dislike Peterloo despite what it’s about? The answer should be yes, regardless of how important it is. It is, after all, a film. A representation of a historical event and it should not pose as fact, but instead present Leigh’s perspective while entertaining us so that we want to go and discover more. After Peterloo that last thing an audience will want is to read more on Peterloo.