We cast a quick eye at a few of the other films screening over the first few days of Glasgow Film Festival 2022.
Don Letts will be a familiar name to most with a cursory knowledge of the British music industry. Through the entertaining documentary Rebel Dread (William E. Badgley/ UK/ 2020/ 86 mins), we find out just out intrinsically embedded in the landscape he has been since the mid-’70s. Told largely by Letts himself in the ebullient style of the true raconteur, Rebel Dread traces how the cocky black kid from Brixton found himself in the right place at the right time to meet and befriend the likes of Bob Marley, John Lydon, Joe Strummer, Siouxsie Sioux, Vivienne Westwood, and many more of the men and women that would go on to exert seismic influence on British culture. From there came recognition as a filmmaker, videographer, DJ, and musician in his own right (the latter not bad for someone who can’t play an instrument).
A conventional documentary about an unconventional man, Rebel Dread is nevertheless a fascinating watch. Besides Letts are insightful contributions from Lydon, Mick Jones and Paul Simenon from The Clash (for whom Letts directed the iconic videos for ‘London Calling‘ and ‘Rock the Casbah‘, among others), Letts’ wife Grace, and ex-girlfriend Jeanette Lee (also a central member of the punk scene in her own right), Big Audio Dynamite’s Leo Williams, and Massive Attack‘s Daddy G. When the subject is so interesting, the format can remain simple, and there is no shortage of archive footage to augment Letts’ outlandish tales. Not quite a hagiography, as Letts is very open about the mistakes he’s made along the way, Rebel Dread is very much a celebration, and exceptional insight into a pivotal figure in British music. 4/5
Ruth Paxton‘s debut film A Banquet (UK/ 2021/ 97 mins) is an oblique affair, influenced in part by the languid slow-burn approach favoured by Robert Eggers in The Witch. Focusing on widowed Holly (Sienna Guillory) and her two daughters Betsey (Jessica Alexander) and Isabelle (Ruby Stokes), the film blends themes of delusion, grief, eating disorders and cosmic horror in a chilly gazpacho that impresses stylistically, but stretches itself too thin. After a mysterious epiphany in a forest under a blood red moon, Betsey declares her body to be a vessel for a coming cataclysm and stops eating. Even eating a single pea makes her gag uncontrollably. And yet she doesn’t lose any weight. Is it a mental illness, anorexia, or is there something awful lurking on the edge of our knowing?
Paxton’s film looks great, and gives a real sense of repulsion to the act of cooking and eating through clever visuals and some repulsive sound design. This provides real empathy for Betsey, as it’s not easy to portray an eating disorder onscreen in a way that will resonate with a non-sufferer. The performances are strong throughout, not least Alexander’s alternately manic and stricken Betsey, and a scene-stealing no-nonsense turn from Lindsay Duncan as Holly’s mother. Her glacial stare is among the most disquieting elements of the entire film. Yet as a whole it fails to satisfy, perhaps trying to be too thematically dense as the story rather peters out in a slightly tepid fashion. Films like Swallow, Raw, and Saint Maud have all dealt with similar issue more successfully recently. There’s no doubt at all that Paxton is a talent to watch, but A Banquet appears to be at least one course too many. 2/5
Pretty much the polar opposite of A Banquet‘s arty darkness is the musical Love, Life and Goldfish (Yukinori Makabe), here to make J-Pop fans swoon and devotees of the Oxford comma grind their teeth. Japan isn’t renowned for its musicals, and the few that have made it to our shores have come from our favourite lunatics Sion Sono (Tokyo Tribe) and Takashi Miike (The Happiness of the Katakuris). There’s nothing quite so madcap here, although it’s still quirky to a default. Coming across like a super-twee Japanese take on Local Hero, elite banker Makoto Kashiba (Matsuya Onoe) is demoted to a remote branch in a small town thanks to an ill-advised outburst aimed at his boss. Initially dismissive of his new surroundings and condescending to the pleasantly oddball residents, he slowly comes round to loving the town; mainly due to falling head-over-heels for the winsome Yoshino Ikoma (Kanako Momota, a member of the band Momoiro Clover Z), the proprietor of a goldfish scooping store.
If it sounds like an overbearingly saccharine setup, you would be correct. Every moment rushes past in a frenzy that will leave the viewer either delighted, exhausted, or diabetic. There is plenty talent on show – Momota is every inch a star and her piano playing is quite lovely, as is that of the psychotically sunny Hayato Kakizawa – but the songs evaporate like candyfloss and, to be honest, you have to really go some to make a banker redeemable and Onoe doesn’t come close. There will be many that will absolutely adore it, and it does generate a certain affable charm, even if that dissipates once certain characters and plot strands are jettisoned. For grumpy critics of a certain age, Love, Life and Goldfish may need to be swiftly followed by a valium, a few chapters of Cormac McCarthy, and a My Dying Bride album. 2/5