Magnicídio

Limit your expectations and be pleasantly surprised. Jubilee is invaluable as a document of anarchic art-school preoccupations in a Britain riven by socialist failure (Thatcher wasn't elected until two years later). Judging by the credits, Jubilee was a creation of faith, hope and goodwill and the cast give it their sometimes amateur all, with entertaining debut appearances from the likes of Jordan, Toyah Wilcox and Adam Ant and proper thesps like Little Nell and Jenny Runacre doing their best with the film-school script and direction.

As feature-film entertainment, Jubilee's a non-starter. But as a caveat-emptor period piece it works fine, and I for one am grateful it was made.

I have only one word for this film. Pants!.

I watched this film in college as part of a Media & Culture lesson, and I felt that this was a complete waste of time. The film had no reason, no story, and above all, made no sense. This is without a doubt, and I say this with my hand on my heart, that this is the WORST film that I have ever seen in my whole life, and I doubt that I will ever see anything worse than this in the future. And I didn't even get to watch all of it because the lesson finished. I would like to see the rest of it, but only to see how the ending could maybe improve an already messed up film. This makes home movies look like major Hollywood productions. Avoid at all cost, and if anyone you know talks about it, and says that they liked it, I strongly suggest that you make new friends.

I'm going to be honest right from the start: I've only seen two films from the late Derek Jarman, this and The Last of England (1987). And I must say that neither of them made much of an impression on me. Jubilee tells the disjointed story of Queen Elizabeth I, who bored by her own existence has her court astrologer and an angel invent a time travel devise that will allow her to travel forward to twentieth century Britain. Once again Jarman revels in pointing out the failings in modern British culture, from the violent punk scene that the main characters are part of, to the harsh severity of the music industry and corporate big business. This has no precedence over the plot, because Jubilee has no plot, just a rambling incoherent mish-mash of filth and vulgarity, which Jarman seems to think will help drive his message of a Britain on the brink of self-destruction home. Jubilee is a film that so obviously wanted to be hip it hurts, looking back it seems Jarman took everything that was just about to explode into the public conscious and structured a highly self-indulgent story around it. So we are shown one of the most miss-representative looks at punk one could ever imagine, and a cast that reads like the who's-who of seventies underground celebrities (Richard O Brien rubs shoulders with the likes of a chubby Toyah Wilcox and a pre-fame Adam Ant). Jarman was clearly pandering to his overly inflated ego, after his gay swords and sandals "epic" Sebastiane (1976) was hailed a modern classic. Jubilee is yet another product of art-house cinema gone wrong and film-making in it's most brash and unsubtle form.

This Derek Jarman film is split between Queen Elizabeth I and John Dee talking about.... well, I'm not sure what, and modern nihilistic young people living a slovenly life. At first I thought it was going to be a contrasting of the high-flown aspirations of the Enlightenment and an ironic view that "yes, this is what we fought Hitler for"

Well, that's present, but Jenny Runacre as the Virgin Queen doesn't offer much in the way of commentary. I suspect Jarman expected his audience to compare and contrast and reach the correct conclusion, with a strong hint from the director. As such it lacks passion and subtlety, and I'm still wondering why Jarman's policeman wears a helmet which doesn't seem to protect his head.

Derek Jarman's Jubilee (1977) is a bleak work of ferocious vision and bold satirical intent, far removed from the director's more intellectual or painterly works, such as Caravaggio (1986), War Requiem (1989), Edward II (1991) and Wittgenstein (1993). It could also be seen as something of a precursor to the visceral aggression and cultural desolation presented in his later project, The Last of England (1987), which presented a similar sense of outrage and impressionist image-weaving, albeit, without the broader strokes of character. With this film, Jarman mixes his own social and political ideologies with the ideas at the forefront of punk; taking both the sense of liberation and the dangerous sense of apathy and aggression presented in both the style and the attitude of that particular era, and applying it to a story that involves elements of history, theology and science fiction.

With the juxtaposition of ideas, Jarman presents us with the alarming vision of England in decline; seeing the present by way of the past, and further depicting a dystopian future very much reminiscent of our own. The story is given a further ironic twist by presenting the image of Queen Elisabeth I as she journeys to the future of late 70's Britain on the eve of the Silver Jubilee, and finds a world in which punk terrorists have taken over the streets, rampaging through shopping centres, looting houses and generally giving a grubby two-fingered salute to anyone courageous enough to represents the mindless masses or the ultra chic bourgeoisie. Certainly, with these factors in mind, Jubilee is not an easy film to appreciate on any level, with the brutality of the imagery and the shocking vulgarity of the world as it is presented being incredibly bleak and incredibly prescient; whilst the visualisation of the film is brash, jarring, clearly exploitative and generally rough around the edges.

The film wallows in sordidness for the first half-hour, as we watch characters wandering through a sadistic wasteland engaging in sex, violence and murder. However, this limited description might lead certain audiences to expect a gritty action film that presents violence as entertainment and coolly ironic characters akin to Kubrick's A Clockwork Orange (1971) and Walter Hill's The Warriors (1979), in which street violence and dystopia are presented as chin-scratching entertainment. Jubilee makes no attempt to entertain the audience on a conventional level, instead offering a serious statement of intent. If you want to enjoy Jubilee, or any of Jarman's work, you must do so on his terms, not on your own. To call it a punk film is misleading too. Here, the appropriation of the punk ethos seems satirical, rather than genuine. Obviously Jarman wasn't a punk and wasn't even of the generation, but he clearly saw something within the scene, again, be it in the liberating freedom that punk could offer, or in the apathy and aggression that came as a direct result of the political climate of the time.

In fact, the film seems purposely stylised to conform to the fashion of the punk rock-status quo in an almost ironic manner that stresses the director's cynical, satirical intent. The cast for example reads like the veritable who's who of seventies cult, with characters Lindsay Kemp, Jenny Runacre, Little Nell, Wayne Country, Richard O'Brien, Jordan, Toyah and Adam Ant all popping up to deliver disarming performances; part pantomime/part existential theatre. The second half of the film wanders slightly; there are examinations on sexuality, a prolonged attack on the music industry and brutal violence between the punks and police which causes both sides to question the immoral decadence being flaunted in the name of rebellion. There are also musical numbers, political manifestos, agitprop, and screaming polemic as well as an extraordinarily vivid sequences shot on fuzzy 8mm film, featuring Jordan dressed as a ballerina dancing in a junkyard.

It's one of the most grimly beautiful and evocative images that Jarman ever created; that sense of true tranquil beauty against a vicious, decaying urban wasteland. A moment of quiet reflection within a film of ferocious energy and aggression and yet tinged with a great sense of sadness and theatrical melancholia. It somehow puts the entire film into context, uniting all facets of the film beyond the past present and future and yet still retaining a great sense of nostalgia and reflection. This one seemingly abstract sequences manages to go beyond the merely aesthetic to offer the ultimate visual metaphor of the punk spirit, England in the 70's and Jubilee itself.