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It’s difficult to fault U2. They’re talented, well principled and put on face-melting stadium shows. What’s not to like? Well, that’s what Killing Bono argues anyway. The film draws its comedy from the ludicrous idea that someone could harbour a pathological hatred of Bono.
The result is a ramshackle comedy of errors that sends the main protagonists Neil McCormick (Ben Barnes) and his brother Ivan (Robert Sheehan) spiralling into the dingiest darkest pits of showbiz in their attempts to rival the meteoric rise of U2. Unfortunately, however, director Nick Hamm isn’t telling a heart-warming, hilarious tale of ‘the other band’, wrong-footed at every turn by their old school friends. Instead, all the McCormicks’ misfortune stems from their own wilful mistakes. It’s Neil’s deluded confidence that lands them in trouble with Irish gangsters, turns down offers to get their music promoted by Rod Stewart and, crucially, prevents Ivan from becoming the fifth member of U2. Instead of laughing at the ridiculousness of their luck (getting a gig the same day on the day of the Pope’s visit, for instance), we can’t help but cringe at Neil’s arrogant stupidity. You spend the film uncomfortably on the edge of your seat waiting for the next home-grown calamity to strike.
The film’s real fault lies in the determination to make Bono look like the most spectacularly lovely person ever to walk the earth. The uncanny performance of Martin McCann, an absolute dead ringer for the young Bono, is mainly confined to appearing conciliating and genial no matter how many insults and down-right refusals Ben Barnes’ character throws at him. His likeability makes it impossible to really get behind Neil’s hatred, making you wish, above all else, that the character would just get over it already. If the film spent a little less time cosying up to Bono and little more time on the ridiculous machinations of the showbiz industry, it would have been much funnier and a lot less tragic.
Of course, it’s not all bad news. Ben Barnes and Robert Sheehan give brilliant performances, with Barnes taking on his least glamorous role to date, and the supporting cast are equally solid, particularly the final cameo appearance of Pete Postlethwaite as hilariously camp landlord, Karl. It’s beautifully filmed with an absolutely ripping score, which is quite enough to start you surreptitiously dancing in your seat (or in my case, actively singing along). Of course, if you loathe everything about the ‘80s you’re probably better steering clear, but personally I found the massive hair (which Robert Sheehan’s curls are perfectly suited to) and, hem, questionable fashion endlessly entertaining.
Killing Bono is a film that’s frequently difficult to watch and which definitely falls short of its comedic promise, but it’s good fun nonetheless. Not a must-see at the cinema but definitely worth a watch, so, wait for the DVD release, gather a few U2-hating friends, try not to invest too much and I guarantee you’ll have a good time.
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