Author: Esme Betamax

“Widow Ruth is seven months pregnant when, believing herself to be guided by her unborn baby, she embarks on a homicidal rampage, dispatching anyone who stands in her way.”

Since the moment I heard about this film I have been dying to see it, and Alice Lowe’s baby has exceeded all of my expectations. Lowe’s dark humour could be seen in 2012’s Sightseers, which she co-wrote with director Ben Wheatley. As you might expect following on from that, Prevenge contains plenty of filth and blood (not for the faint of heart). However, the audience enjoys many more belly-laughs than I witnessed during Sightseers, perhaps due to Lowe’s penchant for silliness. Lowe is the master of deadpan humour and plays it to full effect in this gory slasher flick.

An impressive debut, Prevenge is one of the best examples of british comedy in recent years and ought to be held in high esteem alongside the likes of Shaun of the Dead (2004). Prevenge is original and innovative in a way that could only come from a woman’s perspective – Lowe wrote and directed it during her own pregnancy. Filming at 7 months brings an air of realism that only adds to the horror. A prosthetic pregnant belly would certainly have diminished this.

Alice Lowe is a force of nature. On top of Prevenge being a comedy romp, it is also a deeply poignant examination of grief. Prevenge contains so many layers, at once menacing, hilarious and heartbreaking. It picks up on the mundane, ridiculous lives we live, and takes existential pauses that might not hit home the first time round. Its substance will lend itself to repeat viewings.

Scored by Toydrum (former UNKLE band members) the soundtrack is a thing of beauty in itself. It accompanies many dreamy sequences following Ruth in her urban wanderings. It has a foreboding 80s synth feel, similar to that of the Stranger Things soundtrack, coupled with a jangly post-gig tinnitus sound – not dissimilar to Beach House.

Prevenge is a masterpiece, so let’s hope it’s the first of many features with Lowe in the director’s chair.

A late night courier boy agrees to pick up the feisty daughter of an important client. The two youngsters form a close connection and spend two nights exploring LA’s local food scene while their romance blossoms.

It’s a ships that pass in the night romance, with mild flirting and some cringeworthy innuendo thrown in. The pair get off on the wrong foot, and Jasmine (Julie Zhan) accuses Cameron (Chris Dinh) of being ‘sketchy’, even though he’s the most squeaky-clean, meet-your-grandmother boring type. There is little point in pursuing the antagonistic angle, as the pair aren’t up to Leia/Han levels of chemistry. Instead, Jasmine decides she likes Cam once it’s clear she can manipulate him for as long as she can be bothered.

There seems to be a nod to Twilight, Cam is keeping his reasons for being nocturnal a secret, but the comparison ends there. There is a little more in the way of Disney going on, and although they name-check Beauty and the Beast, Comfort is an even split between Cinderella and Aladdin.

Jasmine does not care about Cameron, beyond being able to bend him to her will. It’s pretty dull to watch some rich little princess telling a hard-up delivery guy that his problems aren’t so big: So you want to have your own food van business? Why not just work at someone else’s? See? Easy! Now listen to my problems: I never get to see daddy because he is so busy making money to provide for me. Wah wah wah.

But let’s take a moment to think about the real villain of the story. A shady character we never get to see, but surely an evil mastermind. That lowdown sonofabitch graphic designer who keeps screwing up the posters, forcing Martin (Dad) Hot Sauce King (to be) to work all night rather than seeing his daughter. What’s the deal with all-nighters anyway huh Martin? If you really want to be Hot Sauce King, you’d better get your shit together.

The boy-girl romance is pretty chaste. Where things really heat up is in the kitchen. Cameron is having a mad love-affair with foodstuffs. Not in an American Pie way, but in a foodie-Instagram way. The couple have slightly forced conversation on the topic of food, then there are steamy slo-mo shots of tasty comfort food being cooked up, as though it’s the strangest porno ever.

I will say this for it, Comfort sure made me hungry.

https://vimeo.com/152104683

ILIA tells the story of amateur footballer TARIK BEN BRAHIM and how he used football to help a forgotten community of Afghan refugee children living in Shahr-e-Rey, Tehran.

Director Louis Chan has an interest in the places where different cultures overlap, as is apparent in his 2014 short Pastiche, and with ILIA he has moved from fiction to documentary. This film uses the football club as a window into the lives of Afghan refugees in Tehran.

ILIA consists of the elements necessary for a satisfying documentary. It has a good balance of situational footage and talking heads. The director does not include himself in the film (always a good move), allowing individuals – teachers, coaches, and children – to speak for themselves.

Ten minutes is the perfect length of time for this story. It is succinct yet emotive. Chan’s representation of the subject is more social than political. The fact that migration occurs as a result of civil war is touched upon, as well as the prevalence of addiction among male refugees, but ILIA is not about apportioning blame.

The footage of the club and the community is beautifully shot, creating a warm atmosphere. The result is compassionate. It is a testament to the positive results that can come from providing structure and purpose for vulnerable children in any society. I will be interested to see which direction Chan takes with future projects. Highly recommended.

Araf is a short film, written and directed by Fidan Jafarova and Tofiq Rzayev.

Araf, meaning purgatory in Azerbaijani, is the story of a family trapped in close proximity to an unexplained war. It illustrates the fact that the reasons behind conflict cease to matter when it comes so close to home.

The father is dying, the son is out fighting, and the mother is willing to risk her life to find food for her family, calmly stepping out into the darkness. The daughter is left to await the inevitable.

It makes for uncomfortable viewing, especially as conflict in the Middle-East is a regular sight on news channels now. The score maintains an air of melancholy throughout, and the claustrophobic atmosphere is strengthened by the use of light and shade, as the characters carry lamps around with them. Their small, wavering lights cutting through the darkness.

Lady in the Park follows a couple as their marriage falls apart in the midst of booze and money troubles.

I don’t usually need an excuse to binge-watch comedy, but if you need one, try Lady in the Park. It will leave you feeling miserable and robbed of a precious 12 minutes of your life.

Lady in the Park is set in the 1960s, portraying a family who are failing to make ends meet. This could be a recipe for heartbreaking drama, but this director is no Ken Loach. The characters are one-dimensional and utterly unlikeable. The exchanges are wooden and lack rhythm. It is a long ten minutes before anything truly dramatic happens, yet it prompts little in the way of empathy as it is gratuitous and makes little sense.

It is very unclear what message is contained in this short film. Steer clear from watery-eyed men who are bad at running sandwich shops? Men who sit in their Y-fronts, on the floor of their neat middle-class houses, swigging vodka from the bottle. Don’t file for divorce lest you be stabbed in broad daylight?

The carefully chosen sets look like carefully chosen sets. They are clean and stage-like, lacking the elements that should make them feel lived-in. The sets are as vibrant as the characters, which is to say not. The best thing about this film is its poster.