Cinema 2011 #29: Killing Bono

A short, talented, cocky, philanthropic, smug, erudite, tax-exiled, influential, holier-than-thou, sunglasses-sporting tosser, whose self-styled pseudonym sounds like the other half of a Cher variety duo. Yes it’s U2 frontman, Bono, and a sideways glance at his meteoric rise to music fame, told through the green eyes of his schoolmate Neil. It’s a bit of fun, it’s very camp, but sadly Killing Bono just isn’t deadly.

Imagine growing up in Dublin in the late 70s and watching your mate Paul go on to form the biggest band in the world since The Beatles, top trumping your own troupe with global success as you struggle to even make it on the domestic scene. That’s what happened to Neil McCormick, carrying a grudge the size of the Irish banking bailout, and about whom U2’s All That You Can’t Leave Behind could have been named. This liberal adaptation of McCormick’s memoir I was Bono’s Doppelgänger has tongue firmly in cheek and some winning performances. But it falls apart with crass and ill-advised stabs at bawdy humour and gangster subplots. Like U2 themselves, it all started so well…

First and foremost, a standing ovation and big fat IFTA for Ben Barnes’ Irish accent, by far one of the best attempts at our broad and lilting brogue. Where so many others (Julia Roberts, Tom Cruise, Kevin Spacey, Gerard Butler, Sean Connery, Julia Roberts again, Tommy Lee Jones, and a special mention for self-proclaimed Irishman, Pierce Brosnan) have tried and fecked it up royally, Barnes delivers a discernible Dublin accent, with soft Ts and fricative finesse that you’ll quickly fail to notice he’s not Irish at all. Bravo, Barnes, Bravo. In his first comedic lead, Barnes is very watchable, a fun if somewhat slight performance as Neil, perfectly capturing a camp 80s style and showmanship bravura when performing on stage.

Shame then that he’s let down by a script that leaves him looking like the most spiteful, and camp, popstar to ever grace the stage. Neil, so sure that he can better U2’s chart toppers, is somewhat unlikeable, spitefully turning down every break he and brother Ivan get, to the point that you begin to find him pathetic. Robert Sheehan, the fresh-faced star of Heroes with ASBOs sitcom Misfits, is also charming, if a tad one note, as younger brother Ivan, cock of the walk and with mullet to spare, but with God-given comic timing and spirit in spades. A special nod to Martin McCann too, for his enjoyable impersonation of the big man himself, and to Pete Postlethwaite as the flamboyant Karl, in his final film role before his death in January of this year.

The great energy of the opening act is lost, however, when the lads get involved in dodgy dealings with some down and dirty Dublin gangsters and ship off to London to strike it big. Aiming squarely at cheap laughs and blowjob jokes, the plot wears thin and the banter falls flat. Things get very predictable, with only the introduction of Peter Serafinowicz’s record label hack Hammond, stealing every scene he’s in. And the hurried final-act descent into darker areas merely hampers proceedings after the pantomime that came before.

Genuinely funny in parts, Killing Bono is a slight and easy film, but lacks the smarts to make it a memorable one, and can't live up to the hype.

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