Chris Morris' Four Lions, and Politics in British Cinema

What has been particularly concerning about British cinema of late is its confirmation of (mainly) negative cultural stereotypes. 2008's Eden Lake portrayed youths as troublesome, knife-wielding criminals (allbeit brought up by ignorant, aggressive parents), and 2009's Harry Brown polarised street warfare with international warfare, once again consigning youths to brassy thugs. Living in Britain, it's difficult to seperate reality from what's written in the papers — there's plenty of smoke and mirrors floating around. The blatantly critical connotations that filter through media coverage of this generation of young people are not without reason, but consistent demonisation threatens to alienate groups of people much more than it aids in uniting them. For instance, do you ever see a photo of a "criminal" smiling in a newspaper, unless the article is angled towards portraying them as some kind of unsympathetic sadist?

I don't mean to get on my Cahiers high-horse about this, but there's something very sinister about wanting to draw attention to members of society already addressed and denounced as morally reprehensible, and firmly within the 'public sphere'. Socio-realist pieces that force our gaze upon dynamics and inequities that we aren't familiar with, such as Andrea Arnold's Red Road, and Paul Andrew Williams' London to Brighton, feel less motivated by modern culture and therefore artistically fresher works.

Not necessarily just since the September 11th attacks, but definitely more so, there has been a hostility towards Muslims in modern Western society. To quote but one reasoning I've heard for the Muslim exclusivity in the 'War On Terror': "Not all Muslims are terrorists, but all terrorists are Muslims". Whatever you believe, the increasing scepticism and mistrust of different ethnicities in the UK is very tangible, whether born out of xenophobia, fear, or a mixture of the two. Nationalism in Britain is pertaining to mean 'white'.

Enter Chris Morris, writer of controversial TV show "Brass Eye", which poked fun at people's perceptions of various social issues. His debut feature film, "Four Lions", made a splash at Sundance earlier in the year, and tackles the threat of terrorism in the UK through the plotting of four incompetent would-be suicide bombers living on a London estate.

The Islam religion is not focused upon a great deal, but the motivation of these men (three Asian, one White) certainly conform to those lines of divinity and sacrifice. Thankfully, that's where the conformities of the film end, and there's something wonderfully novel about the way that the characters, even in their murderous aims, emerge as hybrid representations of 'Britishness'. The group act more out of duty to each other, out of duty to a perceived impression of British muslims, than they do from their own instincts and feelings. It may feel like these men are ideologically estranged (if not, why plan to incite conflict?) but Morris offers perceptions of martyrdom and conformity that aren't exclusively "Eastern" or "Western". He eliminates any suggestion of an Us vs. Then mentality by blurring political boundaries.

That's not to say "Four Lions" is perfect, with a bit of a silly, repetitive approach to comedy that wears thin after a while. There are some delicious In the Loop-style quips, which offer snippets of British life ("Let's bomb Boots..." is a particular highlight), but they don't really hit home the frustrations of these four men. "Four Lions" does, however, hit home some of its own frustrations about 21st-century representations of Nationalism, and, for that, must be commended.

Addicts 2008: Actor in a Supporting Role

Actor in a Supporting Role

Jaymie Dornan
Turn the River

One of the main things I like about Turn the River is that it isn't afraid to leave you in the dark. The parents of Jaymie Dornan's Gulley are estranged, and we aren't privvy to many of the details of their less-than-amicable separation, but it hardly matters as the trio ably craft a convincing dynamic and sufficient backstory on their own. Dornan seems affected, a shadow of a former self, and employs Gulley's intelligence in a passive, absorbing way, that you sense has emerged from suppression and anxiety. The product of this anxiety is often deception, and there's a hint of guilt and contempt to Gulley that he can so easily think up lies and get away with them despite being self-conscious and without confidence. Dornan becomes the film's crucial point of identification, and our main source of reason amidst a collection of very confused and erratic characters.



Robert Downey Jnr.
Tropic Thunder

Certainly one of the strangest performances I've ever witnessed, Robert Downey Jnr. navigates the idea-heavy, lazily executed Tropic Thunder as if it were a production of Hamlet. He effectively method-acts the part of an Australian method actor, method-acting a black soldier. Consequently, it's very difficult to assess how good he really is, and I'm not even sure it's capable to contemplate and process the actions of the saturated personality that is Kirk Lazarus. Downey is definitely aided by the wild abandon of the film, but his refusal to ever be fickle with the material is probably his greatest success, and his personae will likely outlast anything else on display.

Bill Irwin
Rachel Getting Married

It's bad enough having two daughters, never mind two fundamentally different ones, and women that really have a lot of bees in their bonnets. Bill Irwin's patriarchal quest for peace in Rachel Getting Married is indicative of a home-maker, and it's his unconditional tact that represents the film's closest outlet of assurance and comfort in what is an often deliberately tense and confrontational affair. He's a vital component of an incredibly successful ensemble, making concessions and remonstrating with what he believes is the balance to achieve a healthy resolution, and believably tripped up by his eldest daughter's growing lack of tolerance. His performance is a sometimes painfully honest one, and his character is perhaps the most genuine and least questionable offering of the year.

Franck Keita
The Class

Petulance comes at a price for Franck Keita's fiery Souleyman, the biggest opposition to peace in Laurent Cantet's classroom drama. It's easy to see Souleyman as facilitator of his own downfall, and Keita is often insolent and unsympathetic, but he has all the bravado of that kid at the back of the class that's willing to push, challenge and unrelent (you had one in your school, right?), reluctant to accept either praise or criticism, dismissive of need. Keita always hints at Souleyman's capability of going too far, and brilliantly demonstrates it in a scene full of heated aggression, but even still possesses a knowledge of his environment and the spirit with which the class engage in discussion, suggesting that his rage be less of a flippant outburst than an extension of his own character, contribution, defence.

Jack O'Connell
Eden Lake

O'Connell's role, as Eden Lake's Brett, is more of a modern-day representation of villainry, allbeit a rather standard one as a troublesome knife-wielding teenager. His casual approach towards violence is designed to both shock and provoke, and there's something about O'Connell that appears conscious of the need to be this serial image of society-gone-wrong. As it happens, his attempts at barking orders translate as 101 the likes of Alan Rickman in Die Hard and John Lithgow in Cliffhanger, but it's this desire to be in control, professional, important, that gives Brett a menacing edge. There's branded culture and emotional neglect present in his demeanor, his walk, his tone of voice, turn of phrase. An unflinching expression in the film's final shot says it all: chaos rules.

Winner: Jaymie Dornan - Turn the River

Runner Up: Bill Irwin - Rachel Getting Married

Sad to Exclude

Eddie Marsan's and Brad Pitt's comic timing are both ace; Marsan in admonishing a carefree Sally Hawkins' in Happy-Go-Lucky, and Pitt with his noir-wannabe extortionist tendencies in Burn After Reading. Jeffrey Donovan's adamant police detective was more than a match for Angelina Jolie's frantic mother in Changeling, and in Milk Josh Brolin gave his conservative character more than was down on paper.

Another Brick in the Wall

Eden Lake (2008)

Directed by James Watkins

Starring: Kelly Reilly, Michael Fassbender, Jack O'Connell

Grade: C -

For you non-Brits, the topic of "What to do about our pesky teenagers, and their relaxed attitude to physical violence?" is a particularly hot one in the country right now. Eden Lake, a British production, spawns from such debate, and so the basic premise of the film is that a young couple, away for a romantic weekend, find themselves on the wrong end of a violent dispute with a gang of tearaway youths. You might think I reviewed this film a couple of weeks ago but no. While The Strangers was a classy crafted genre-gem, Eden Lake has much bigger things on its mind, and isn't afraid to let everyone know it.

It's quite obvious from the outset that Eden Lake knows exactly what it wants to say and won't stop until its said it. Car-radio debates about the problems of youth in today's society fill the eerie opening credits; a precursor to the violent events that unfold, and the film's desire to confront the issue in gung-ho mode is an admirable one. But Eden Lake's bandwagon-jumping often feels like the intrusive, impetuous commentary of filmmakers with passion but little understanding of how to build a convincing narrative around this passion. Indeed, the problem is that as such a politically-divisive piece, the film is first and foremost a social demonstration and secondarily a gritty thriller. Every eventuality (whether it be a chase, hiding place, violent sequence, stumble) feels like it's been copied from, and done better in, other films.

It isn't as if Eden Lake doesn't attempt to get inside its characters, or show us why they might do the things they do. There are thoughtful glimpses into, particularly, the most volatile and disturbed member of the young group. The character of Brett (outstandingly played by Jack O'Connell) is very much the leader of events, and attempting to display and allude to the reasons behind his anger and instability works for the film's message about young people and crime. But the reason Eden Lake gave me a major headache was the treatment of its would-be protagonists (couple Steve and Jenny), who act frankly rather stupidly at times, and on more than one occasion are responsible for orchestrating their own downfall. It feels as if the filmmakers are working from a couple of plot points -- incidentally based solely around the youths and delivering the message of the film -- and the rest is left to part-cliche, part-mess, in which we have no idea as to the scope of Eden Lake as a location and its endless, tiresome expanse of forestry.

It's difficult. I agree with a lot of what Eden Lake tries to say, and ultimately cannot fail to say. But when you have a small checklist and ninety minutes of running time to fill, things can easily become bogged down. Eden Lake is predictable after the first thirty, loses grip in the second thirty, and finally falls apart in a finale that's effective, haunting, and probably plausible, but by the time it comes around feels well on the way to its second dose of overkill.