Hope and Glory (1987)

Overview

Hope and Glory is John Boorman’s deeply personal, semi-autobiographical account of his childhood growing up in London during the Blitz of World War II. Unlike many wartime dramas that focus on trauma and heroism in the battlefield, Boorman’s film stays home, capturing the chaos, absurdity, and strange joys of life during war through the eyes of a young boy.

Told with warmth, humour, and poignant nostalgia, Hope and Glory is a coming-of-age story wrapped in a wartime tapestry, presenting the war not as a solemn tragedy, but as an exhilarating backdrop to a boyhood full of discovery, upheaval, and emotional growth. It stands out for its unique tone — part memoir, part satire, part reverie — and for its ability to find levity and even joy amid the devastation.

Plot Summary

Set during the early years of World War II, the film follows 9-year-old Billy Rowan (played by Sebastian Rice-Edwards), whose comfortable suburban life is upended when Britain declares war on Germany. Billy’s father, Clive (David Hayman), joins the army, leaving his mother, Grace (Sarah Miles), to manage the household and raise Billy and his two sisters.

As the German bombs fall nightly over London, Billy watches his world change — not with dread, but with wide-eyed fascination. His family is forced to move in with eccentric relatives in the countryside, including his grandfather (played by the superb Ian Bannen), a cantankerous but lovable figure. Billy's sister Dawn (Sammi Davis) finds romance with a Canadian soldier, leading to heartbreak and scandal. Throughout, Billy experiences a range of emotions, from mischief and wonder to fear and loss, all filtered through his innocent but observant lens.

The film ends on a note of surprising exuberance, when the family's bombed-out house results in their exemption from school — a moment that, for Billy, marks a high point of wartime excitement.

Themes and Analysis

The War as Seen Through a Child’s Eyes

At the heart of Hope and Glory is the idea that war looks very different when seen from the vantage point of a child. Billy doesn’t see the Blitz as terror; he sees shattered windows, adventures in bombed-out ruins, and time off from school. Boorman captures this duality brilliantly — the innocence of childhood innocence clashing with the adult world’s grim reality.

This perspective allows the film to explore the absurdities and contradictions of wartime life: how destruction can be thrilling, how loss is often un-grasped, and how resilience is sometimes born from ignorance.

Nostalgia Without Sentimentality

Boorman’s screenplay avoids maudlin sentiment by embracing contradiction. The film is nostalgic, but never sugary; it remembers the past fondly, but not naively. The family arguments, the confusion of adolescence, the petty social dynamics — these are portrayed with raw honesty. The warmth of memory is balanced by the messiness of real life.

Boorman isn’t mythologizing the war or his childhood; he’s recreating it with all its strange comedy and aching complexity intact.

Family and Domestic Life in Wartime

The film explores how war transforms domestic life — not just through bombings and blackouts, but through interpersonal shifts. Grace, the mother, is portrayed as a resilient, quietly heroic figure, juggling motherhood, rationing, and emotional strain. Billy's father’s absence disrupts the family’s dynamic, and Dawn’s defiance mirrors the larger breakdown of societal norms during wartime.

Despite the instability, there’s also an intimacy that grows from the shared hardship. The family scenes are some of the film’s most touching — and its most humorous.

Humour and Irony in the Face of Tragedy

Hope and Glory is remarkably funny for a war film. Boorman mines humour from everyday absurdities: neighbours gossiping during air raids, teachers trying to enforce discipline amid chaos, and bureaucratic silliness around evacuation orders. This tone elevates the film, allowing it to be both touching and entertaining without ever undermining the seriousness of the subject.

Performances

Sebastian Rice-Edwards, as Billy, carries the film with astonishing naturalism. He isn’t a precocious child actor; he’s believably wide-eyed, mischievous, and emotionally sincere. His performance grounds the story in lived experience rather than theatricality.

Sarah Miles gives a nuanced performance as Grace, conveying quiet strength and maternal patience. Her emotional range — from restrained sorrow to humorous exasperation — adds depth to the family’s story.

Ian Bannen, as the gruff grandfather, nearly steals the film. His character brings an earthy humour and sharp wit, embodying the film’s blend of irreverence and tenderness.

Sammi Davis as Dawn is equally compelling, representing the bridge between adolescence and adulthood. Her journey adds emotional stakes to the film’s second half.

Direction and Style

John Boorman’s direction is lyrical yet grounded. He crafts each scene with affection and precision, balancing tone and pacing with impressive control. The cinematography (by Philippe Rousselot) bathes the film in a warm, golden light, echoing the haze of memory. Even the bombings are shot with a strange beauty, reinforcing the childlike wonder Billy feels.

Boorman makes excellent use of sound — the distant hum of aircraft, the eerie stillness before explosions — to build tension. But he resists gratuitous spectacle. The war is always present, but it never overwhelms the human story.

Boorman’s restraint and elegance elevate Hope and Glory from simple nostalgia to poetic realism.

Reception and Legacy

Critically acclaimed upon release, Hope and Glory was a major international success and remains one of the defining films of 1980s British cinema. Its five Oscar nominations (including Best Picture and Best Director) solidified its reputation, even though it lost the top awards to The Last Emperor.

The film has aged remarkably well, perhaps because its story — of finding hope, humour, and humanity amid horror — is both specific to its time and universally resonant. It avoids grandstanding or propaganda, opting instead for personal truth.

Boorman has cited it as his most personal film, and that intimacy shines through in every frame. In 2014, he released a sequel of sorts, Queen and Country, following Billy into his National Service years — though it never quite matched the original's charm or impact.

Conclusion

Hope and Glory (1987) is a luminous film — a rare war movie that finds joy, absurdity, and warmth amid destruction. By telling the story from a child’s perspective, Boorman sidesteps clichés and delivers something unique: a deeply personal, honest, and often hilarious recollection of life during wartime.

It’s a celebration of childhood resilience, family bonds, and the enduring power of memory. Despite the falling bombs, Hope and Glory ultimately lives up to its name: it is filled with both.

A tender, funny, and deeply human portrait of wartime childhood — as disarmingly honest as it is moving.