The film presents a narrated documentary set in a near-future version of 1970s England, centered on a disillusioned pop star named Steven Shorter. Shorter is the country’s most adored celebrity, and his onstage persona is starkly provocative: he performs in a jail cell, handcuffed and beaten by mock police, a spectacle that both horrifies and captivates the audience. The political backdrop is equally charged, with the two main parties forming a coalition government that uses Shorter’s immense appeal to placate the public and redirect political energy away from real civic involvement.
Shorter’s life is tightly controlled by a cadre of handlers: the manager Martin Crossley, the public relations figure Alvin Kirsch, the record-company boss Julie Jordan, and the financial backer Andrew Butler. Across every facet of culture—nightclubs, shopping centers, brands, and media—Shorter’s name is a currency, a mirror of consumer devotion. An artist, Vanessa Ritchie is commissioned to paint his portrait, and Shorter searches for some human connection in the isolation of his fame, finding it in her.
As demands on Shorter intensify, an official commercial for apple growers asks him to persuade the nation to eat apples in unprecedented quantities to fix a surplus. More ominously, the churches of England strike a deal with the government and Shorter’s expanding empire to mold him into a quasi-messianic figure who could spur church attendance and national unity. An image shift is announced ahead of a gargantuan stadium concert where Shorter will publicly “repent,” abandon the handcuffs, and embrace religious overtones in his songs. The pressure takes a toll on him; at a seaside picnic, he bizarrely orders hot chocolate to drink, and everyone else follows suit, a vivid sign of how his choices shape public behavior.
On the stadium day, attendance is massive and the performance carries a militarized air, with nationalist groups taking the stage in uniform-like costumes. A fiery preacher, Reverend Jeremy Tate, inflames the crowd by urging conformity with cards bearing the words “We Will Conform.” Shorter and his band respond with stage conventions that echo a dark, troubling past, while disabled citizens sit closer to the stage in a bid to “heal” them with his music. Later, Shorter watches the rally footage and feels a deep revulsion, erupting in a furniture-breaking fury. He also confides to Vanessa Ritchie that the old show wasn’t only staged: the bruises and scars he bore on his body were real, a brutal secret behind the marketable mask.
At a formal event honoring his achievements, Shorter’s outward adoration collapses as he voices a raw, ambiguous disgust for a public thatansen’t seen him as a person beyond the brand. The room falls silent, and the public’s reaction quickly turns to anger, threatening the lucrative machine built around him. Andrew Butler announces his own resignation from the Shorter enterprise, signaling the end of a profitable era. The narrative’s verdict is stark: to appease a vindictive, consumer-driven society and to preserve the business interests that depend on him, Shorter’s career is effectively erased—his music banned from airplay, and his voice silenced from public life.
In the postscript, the narrator remarks that little remains of Shorter’s career, overlaying archival footage (its soundtrack removed) as if to underline a prerequiem for the performer. The closing line sums up the film’s paradoxical tone, hinting at a future promised as “a happy time in England,” even as the credits signal the cost of that happiness.
> It is going to be a happy time in England, this year in the future.
