This movie annoyed me so much.
Instances - the stereotyping of the past, so yes, it's the 80s, so yes, everybody smokes all the time, like in the teachers' common room, and in the cinema; the crass stigmatisation of the Plymouth Brethren; the "budget" of non-pcness that the film allowed itself - oooh! they said "spazzy" - and the thought-processes that contribute to it - to show how non-pc people were in the 80s.
Clunking non-sequiturs - why was Didier ostracised right at the end of the film when there had been absolutely no sign that his fellow-students thought him anything but super-cool? A really irresponsible notion that you can light a cigarette by connecting yourself to mains voltage.
The suggestion that a man with a pair of scissors up his nose is an object of mirth.
Jumbled landscapes - derelict power station (?Notts) adjacent to rolling dales (?Dorset?Peak District) - or maybe that's what it's like in Tring, must go there - and accents - estuary, cut glass etc - like the film makers have got to tick every box of inclusivity to get their FilmFour grant - at least it wasn't Film Council, who have been responsible for some real horrors.
There were five minutes at the beginning of the film when I thought, good, I'm glad I've come to see this. Then the cringing began and I ended up thinking, why does the British film industry have the endless capacity to do this to itself?
My son liked it, though.
Instances - the stereotyping of the past, so yes, it's the 80s, so yes, everybody smokes all the time, like in the teachers' common room, and in the cinema; the crass stigmatisation of the Plymouth Brethren; the "budget" of non-pcness that the film allowed itself - oooh! they said "spazzy" - and the thought-processes that contribute to it - to show how non-pc people were in the 80s.
Clunking non-sequiturs - why was Didier ostracised right at the end of the film when there had been absolutely no sign that his fellow-students thought him anything but super-cool? A really irresponsible notion that you can light a cigarette by connecting yourself to mains voltage.
The suggestion that a man with a pair of scissors up his nose is an object of mirth.
Jumbled landscapes - derelict power station (?Notts) adjacent to rolling dales (?Dorset?Peak District) - or maybe that's what it's like in Tring, must go there - and accents - estuary, cut glass etc - like the film makers have got to tick every box of inclusivity to get their FilmFour grant - at least it wasn't Film Council, who have been responsible for some real horrors.
There were five minutes at the beginning of the film when I thought, good, I'm glad I've come to see this. Then the cringing began and I ended up thinking, why does the British film industry have the endless capacity to do this to itself?
My son liked it, though.