Flying Scotsman, TheIf there's one thing British cinema loves, it's the 'triumph over adversity' film. From smashes like The Full Monty to less high profile examples such as On A Clear Day, it's a storytelling structure that comes up time and again. At first glance, sports biopic The Flying Scotsman looks as if it's going stick to the established formula, but there are some engaging, well-made touches that make it different enough to stand out from the crowd.
It's based on a true story of Scottish cyclist Graham Obree (Miller). The film begins with him running a cycle shop and regularly competing in local races, but convinced his chances at professional cycling are long gone. With his shop failing and a family to care for, Obree has to work as a bike courier in order to make ends meet. Things change after a chance meeting with ex-minister turned boatyard owner Baxter (Cox), which results in Obree coming up with a daring idea - he's going to try and beat the world one-hour bicycle speed record.
It's a target that seems impossible, especially since he doesn't have funding or a bike capable of breaking the record. Obree is determined and constructs 'Old Faithful', a revolutionary form of bicycle made up from scrap metal, and components from a washing machine. With help from his friend Malky (Boyd) and against all odds, Obree makes two attempts on the world record in Norway, and actually succeeds in beating it. However, his initial victory is short-lived, when his record is broken by fellow Brit Chris Boardman (Adrian Smith) only days later, and the cycling sports authorities then rewrite the rules to try and make it impossible for Obree to win using his more experimental methods.
So far, so predictable, but The Flying Scotsman goes down a much darker path when the strain of trying to break the record starts to affect Obree in dangerous ways. Prone to depression (cycling was originally his way of staying ahead of childhood bullies), he's determined to prove himself and not give up. But the quest eventually gives rise to suicidal tendencies.
The rest of the story deals with Obree's attempts to come to terms with his condition and find a way of winning through, and it's to the film's credit that it doesn't simply paint this as yet another problem to be defeated, but something the main character has to learn to live with.
It helps that the film doesn't shy away from Obree's harsher side, with his pride sometimes verging on arrogance. Jonny Lee Miller gives one of his finest performances as Obree, making him a personality who's charismatic and, at times, downright difficult. The interplay between Miller and the rest of the cast, particularly Laura Fraser and Billy Boyd, gives the film an engaging sense of reality, and means that when the darker scenes arrive, they're genuinely affecting.
It's a shame, then, that the rest of the film is so lightweight, playing most of the drama as a cheery battle against the odds and trying too hard to be a lively crowd-pleaser. The worst example of this is the casting of Steven Berkoff as the head of the World Cycling Federation, spending most of his screen-time sneering and being a cartoon Euro-villain, while the film also indulges in a few too many old-fashioned storytelling devices, especially when large chunks of the plot are told through newspaper headlines.
At the least, ex-TV director Douglas Mackinnon makes an impressive job of the visuals, keeping the film cinematic, and giving the cycling sequences a thrilling sense of energy. He finds a number of creative ways to show Obree's escalating mental strain, and even pulls off some very distinctive shots, especially when the camera follows Obree out onto the Norwegian track to start his record attempt in one unbroken take.
Despite a strong supporting performance from Brian Cox and the excellent work from Miller, The Flying Scotsman doesn't completely escape from its formulaic structure - but there's enough traditional entertainment here to make it more than worthy of attention.
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