In part, Once a Year on Blackpool Sands achieves its goals, but I can’t help but feel there was a deeper story of oppression, masculinity, freedom and defiance in Eddy and Tommy’s journey that never quite found a voice in either Parris’ play or film. Once a Year on Blackpool Sands is awaiting a UK release date.
Let me take you back to Greater Manchester Fringe Festival, 2018. Since its launch in 2012, Greater Manchester Fringe has provided a home for new theatre, cabaret and live performance while championing up-and-coming LGBTQ+ theatre and performers. In 2018, Karlton Parris’ period drama, Once a Year on Blackpool Sands, made its fringe debut, recounting the story of two miners in the 1950s who held a secretive love that only found freedom once a year on Blackpool Sands.
Written and directed by Karlton Parris, the play offered us a rarely seen story of young gay Northern men at a point in time when the state, working-class communities and police persecuted gay men. Their annual community coach trip to Blackpool was an escape from the oppression surrounding them and the expectations of masculinity born from a tight and insular community culture.
There is no doubt that the film version of Once a Year on Blackpool Sands was a passion project for Parris, but does it work on screen? The answer is mixed, much like the original stage production, with a slightly confused and disjointed opening thirty minutes, followed by some great drama and a disappointing end. There’s no doubt Parris was aiming for “Brokeback in Blackpool”; however, what we end up with never quite reaches the heights of the story’s initial promise despite its assured performances.
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The film opens in the mid-1980s at the heart of the AIDS epidemic; here, we find Eddy (Kyle Brookes) and Tommy (Macaulay Cooper) surrounded by friends as they die of AIDS in each other’s arms. Through a young man who sits with them, we learn of their story: a hard-won love wrapped in fear, courage and the need to be together at all costs. The year is 1953, and Eddy and Tommy have been conducting a secretive love affair since their teens in a close-knit and tough mining community where secrets are hard to maintain. Homosexuality is illegal, and community gossip is deadly as both young men delicately try to navigate their love.
Once a year, the community arranges a trip to Blackpool, where Eddy and Tommy find freedom and peace as they escape the trappings of their home lives for a brief week of love. But as their annual holiday approaches, tensions are also growing as Eddy talks of running away with Tommy after getting caught by the police at a local cruising ground. At the same time, Tommy begins to question whether their relationship can ever work.
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The origins of Parris’s story are fascinating after he allegedly met the real Eddy and Tommy in Greece as they both enjoyed their last holiday together, and one can’t help but feel this should have been the opening scene. Instead, we get a mid-80s opening in a small suburban house where the tiny budget Parris had to work with is evident. Here, the performances of those surrounding the older Eddy and Tommy as they fade away are weak, stereotypical and, at times, intensely irritating. At the same time, essential discussions on the LGBTQ+ history we lost during the AIDS epidemic lack the focus and attention so richly deserved.
This causes a significant problem, as the emotional link to Eddy and Tommy’s story is never allowed to flourish before we journey back to the ’50s. Unfortunately, things don’t get much better in the opening 35 minutes of the period location as we explore Eddy and Tommy’s home life. While the production is rich in period detail and is carried by the central performances of Cooper and Brookes, the overarching narrative often feels confused and disjointed.
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It’s not until the holiday to Blackpool comes into view that Parris’ movie hits its stride, the midsection wrapped in some genuinely outstanding performances as we explore Eddy and Tommy’s feelings and thoughts in a queer-friendly seafront hotel. However, even here, Once a Year on Blackpool Sands attempts to introduce too many characters as it explores the hotel’s residents, often distracting us from Eddy and Tommy’s journey. This distraction is exacerbated by a score that frequently overshadows the on-screen drama, becoming an irritation rather than a tool for elevating the dramatic intensity.
However, there is also much to enjoy in Once a Year on Blackpool Sands despite these core weaknesses, with glimmers of what could have been given more focus on Eddy and Tommy’s journey. The performances of Cooper and Brookes are outstanding throughout, wrapped in the fear of community isolation and ostracisation as they attempt to navigate their love. Equally strong is the cinematography of Josh Gwynne, who ensures Once a Year on Blackpool Sands visually transcends the budget restrictions it faces.
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The result is a movie that swings from confusion to brilliance to disappointment as Parris attempts to weave British period drama with robust discussions on historical oppression and kitchen-sink social realism. In part, Once a Year on Blackpool Sands achieves its goals, but I can’t help but feel there was a deeper story of oppression, masculinity, freedom and defiance in Eddy and Tommy’s journey that never quite found a voice in either Parris’ play or film.
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