Helmed by Bristol sound co-founder Geoff Barrow, this scabrous if slight first film turns a sceptical eye on 90s rave culture. Self-serving pillhead David (the actor) first robs an passed-out supplier, then in a later recollection tries to break into his own parents. In no time, he's upside down in the wreckage of his car in a woodland – and subject to the angry eye of the Poacher (vocalist Jason Williamson). Refusing to extricate David, with impatience toward townies, he is broken Britain personified: “You’re one of those loud individuals from up on the heath.”
Unsteady Opening and Grimly Amusing Duel
The film begins uncertainly, lingering excessively on pedantically chronicling David’s attempt to free himself from his safety harness, while awkwardly transitioning into flashbacks of his everyday life. The central theme – that the ecstasy generation were primarily out for number one – is firmly made. But these brief episodes are too thin to properly prime us for what to expect when the Poacher turns up, fuming after David kills his dog. Still, a darkly funny duel takes hold – David desperate to escape; the Poacher denying his container of cider, intent on dousing him instead in embittered discourse. Williamson, projecting heavy threat in the role, is evocative of Michael Smiley.
Visual Flair and Music Video Sensibility
Just a single key story turn, but it results in a comically executed rampage on the woodland paths that veers toward folk horror. Director John Minton at last unleashes with his ostentatious visuals: where he was hunkered down doing impressionistic closeups of bugs in headlights in the early stages, he now lets rip with the full lysergic grand display, accompanied by a frenzied keyboard rendition of Ravel’s Boléro. The movie resembles an extended promo than a complete narrative, but there’s enough strident imagery to suggest that Minton could emulate Jonathan Glazer, Garth Jennings and others into making the leap from the Brit music promo scene.
Game releases in UK and Irish cinemas from 17 November.
