Chariots of Fire (1981) The problem with Chariot of Fire , a slight but likeable tale of overcoming hurdles (ahem) in order to bask in glory (your classic sports movie, basically), is not the film itself but its success. Garlanded with Oscars and hexed by the pronouncement “ The British are coming! ” (surely one of the most ill-advised acceptance speeches ever, perhaps topped by “ I’m king of the world! ”), Chariots became forever entwined with the Conservative nostalgia of Thatcher’s Britain. The juxtaposition of Vangelis’ sublime electronica with post-WWI period trappings was undeniably effective and evocative, but it lent itself all-too easily to artificially bolstered national pride and “British is best” sentiments. Indeed, while the film makes some counterarguments against the arrogance of public school Englishness and unfiltered patriotism, ultimately these defer to rose-tinted imagery of a triumphant island nation. Colin Welland appropriated his title