United Passions Pt 3–17:53 to 27:04
So we are are balls deep in footballing history. And the balls are sweaty, cold, and smell vaguely of pilchards. That’s right, its time for part 3 of the United Passions deep dive, which I would tentatively give a title like “One foot in the shite” or “Offside and Out of my own fucking mind” but that would imply that I care about this film.
I do not.
Once I stop watching this film it doesn't haunt me for hours whilst I scream into the void, wondering why giant men who look like giant piles of mashed potato are trying to tell me the story of the first world cup.
Anyway…
We pick up the ‘action’ in the east wing of Downton Abbey/Wayne Manor as Depardieu explains what the World Cup is and what it will look like in the future. I should make it clear that he is very much explaining this via dubbing that wouldn’t be out of place in a Steven Seagal film. I’m relatively sure that when the camera pans out he is listing his favourite types of cured meat, and nothing to do with the film. It’s pretty difficult to know if Depardieu is alive in much of this scene, his movements resemble that of continental drift.
After much blustering, the vote announces ‘oorrooogwwaayyy’ is the winner of the vote to host the 1930 World Cup. On this basis I’m amazed anyone made it as unless you’ve had a brain injury, it’s impossible to pronounce it this way. Is this not also corrupt?! Depardieu has literally just ate four deserts with the man who said he can host it and the vote goes to him?! IS THIS THE CORRUPTION — DID THE CAKES DECIDE THE HOST?!?!?!
WARNING — THE FOLLOWING SCENE MAY BE THE WORST THING I’VE EVER SEEN.
Some more tremendous dubbing at 19:03 as a plummy Englishman complains in mildly racist overtones that he thinks the World Cup won’t work to a woman, who immediately becomes the most likeable character in this fucking shitshow by questioning ‘Sir John Imamassivebigot’. There’s a joke about Zulu’s being good footballers, by which I mean it gets very fucking racist — but this is the tip of the iceberg. When Depardieu pops across to ask how their evening is going — Sir Massivebigot then gets sexist and then even more racist (I’m sorry but how did anyone involved in the script think this would fly?!) and then suggests the woman get back to “her sewing and the art of good housekeeping”. It’s actually the real life Harry Enfield sketch. He then adds the cherry on the cake by saying “Why not include women while we are at it?!”
Depardieu then very cleverly uses some wordplay to dupe the Englishman into thinking he’s belittling the women, only to turn it round by saying he is bitter? I don’t fucking know. Frankly, if the woman had chucked acid in the Englishman’s face, and then used a cheese grater to gradually castrate him I still think it would be too kind. They wander off and Massivebigot stands there looking like a right chump…I guess?
We then cut to a pottery shop in Montevideo — and a man that looks like Doctor Who fucked Tony Hart. Although it might not be Montevideo. It cuts to there for 8 seconds as a Spaniard walks through the bones of a stadium and we get a brief glimpse of a building site that looks like its handled nuclear waste disposal…and then we’re in the pottery shop…The girl is here again with Mr Holland and Gerard — and the sculptor — played by Roger Van Hool. Van Hool appears to be on an all scenery diet at this point, as he channels Jack sparrow and a fucking madman to deliver the hammiest few lines ever. He refuses to design a trophy, prompting Gerard to stride (waddle) after him to hand him two coins and try to persuade him. After some more Van Hool noise he gets handed a roll of notes by Mr Holland and he pleasingly shuts the fuck up. He remaining scenes are him cutting lines into a block of clay with the precision of a bus. great.
Villefranche — June 1930. Gerard is boarding a boat to Uruguay carrying no luggage whatsoever and seems to be planning a stag do. He’s talking about picking up the Yugoslavs and the Brazilians — but no! This is actually what happened! The French and Yugoslavs boarded the boat from Villefranche-sur-mer and sailed over — picking up the Brazilians and arriving in Uruguay on 4th July 1930. Which is a wonderful fact that I love. Anyway, he has a conversation with our possibly corrupt Uruguayan freidns about grass and hotels and stuff before this curious line.
“Listen to me Jules, and I give you my word, in the World Cup — we play tomorrow, and all you could be missing, is the ball”
If anyone has any idea how this is meant to translate, you will officially pass a task on the crystal maze. Because this was clearly written in another language and badly translated. However in better news, our building site from the stadium has now moved from ‘Nuclear Waste Site’ to ‘Villain’s lair from Neo-bullshit adventure a la Van Helsing’
We then get to see Gerard strolling round the deck whilst the players run around, in between deckchairs and squatting with life jackets. It’s quite quaint really — and actually not really hateful at all. We then get some jaunty jazz again and Gerar is talking to the girl — Annette — who appears to be his love interest. The fact that Annette has to stand anywhere near this bag of mashed potato and leftover rhino spunk is a travesty — but she cheers him up as he’s panicking about press coverage and he gives her a kiss — and then it turns out she’s his daughter and I’ve totally misread the whole scene…..
Our final scene of my sanity shows us Gerard looking at the trophy for the first time. The props department deserve a massive pat on the fucking spleen for picking a trophy that looks like it is quite sophisticated and yet cannot have cost more than £5.99. Gerard looks at it wistfully then begins to smile.
I presume, this is down to wind, or from all of his credibility (at least whatever is left) evacuating from his body like a giant slug of gaseous turd.
