Generational divide

Collage of despair and disenfranchisement stimulates

“Wakey, wakey, it’s another shit day.”

Director/writer Greg Hall’s spunky first feature has much to say, mumble and show about today’s pissed-off youth.  He’s crafted a film that delves into drugs, booze, fraud, racism, violence and fear with a marvelous feel of fucked-up joy as a multicultural quartet in London’s high-rise melting pot blast through a life-altering Lost Weekend.  By the closing credits, the beauty of Hall’s subliminally infused visual/aural subtext (the opening collage by this is pal—Rafi Nazim, Rob Oliver—worth the price of admission—both meanings—alone; the well-in-the background clips from George W. Bush and Tony Blair don’t require any sound boost to make Hall’s point) make thinking viewers see that the older generations are just as stoned, drunk (booze and power) and confused but pretend to understand the ways of the world and will readily kill to prove it.  “Children’s lives [sacrificed] for the mistakes of greedy adults” says it all.

Sheekl’s original score (the bass and high hat tension-in-the-car before the bank “heist” works beautifully; and Angelic voice and harpsichord hue as The System exacts its price ironically rich) coupled with Skinnyman’s prescient observations (“ignoring us” the understatement of the year) provide punch.  The canned Christmas carols as a still stoned Matt (Brett Harris, under the skin of the character, if a bit too straight looking) arrives late for work in The Man’s Big Box store underscores the disconnect in yet another subtle way.

Visually, Leo Leigh’s sense of angle (the overheads:  just enough), shift (near unintelligible, simultaneous conversations add to the tone and theme of lack of understanding) and fun (the home video cam sequence at Party No. 1 delivers a fabulous feeling of “being there”) that entertains the eye and supports Hall’s vision.  The archive black-and-white clip of the “menace of marijuana” is a hoot unto itself and evokes echoes of McCarthy witch hunts and institutionalized discrimination for “the love that dare not say its name.”

The gang wars have a fine West Side Story feel, a bare-chested skinhead conjures up Royston Tan’s 15 (cross-reference below), while the interrogation sequences and riot police storming of Party No. 2 can’t help but bring A Clockwork Orange to mind.  Happily, all of this works in reinforcing the shared experience of youthful despair and rebellion—now globalized just like everything else.

The cast is energetic and enthused.  With so much going on in the foreground of drug deals and parties, the development of relationships is, necessarily superficial.  Proud Pakistani (“I’m not Indian”) Ravi (Nur Alam Rahman, who should be slated for future engagements) and his father (Jeetandra Lathigra) have a textbook falling out (“You are dead to me”) that is too “on the nose”; the only real love story (an oddly sexless production) between Tom (David Bonnick Junior whose rap-and-roll duet is a showstopper) and Debbie begins with shy promise but becomes smothered by the raving crowd.

Similarly, the spray paint stencil imagery sets up a timely metaphor but loses its way to a compelling payoff.

No worries.  Hall’s big picture is what counts and will, no doubt, be even more engaging, enraging and entertaining with his next outing.

“Laters.”

“Safety."

Director	Greg Hall
Producer	Rebecca Finlay-Hall
Writer	Greg Hall
Original Music	Sheekl
Film Editing	Paco Sweetman
Cinematography	Leo Leigh
Main cast	Rebecca Finlay-Hall, Samuel Anoyke, DJ Flip, Che Grant, Brett Harris, David Bonnick Junior, Jeetandra Lathigra, Nur Alam Rahman, Skinnyman, Mark Underwood, Diana Walker, Jackson Wright

Cross-references: 15; Nur Alam Rahman has a comment or two