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UK/Canada 1999
Reviewed by Mark Kermode
Our synopses give away the plot in full, including surprise twists.
Nottingham schoolchildren Romeo Brass and Gavin 'Knocks' Woolley are neighbours and best friends, helping each other through the trials of an absentee father and damaged spine respectively. When a limping Knocks is bullied by local thugs, Romeo intervenes but is himself saved from a beating by twentysomething misfit Morrell.
Morrell drives Romeo home and meets his mother and sister Ladine. He becomes infatuated with Ladine. Morrell befriends Romeo and Knocks, who gives him jokingly misleading advice on how to dress to impress Ladine, resulting in humiliation for Morrell. Romeo's father Joe returns home, unwelcomed by his son and former partner, and confronts Morrell who continues to pursue Ladine. On a day trip to the beach, Morrell threatens Knocks, who subsequently withdraws from Romeo. As Knocks is admitted to hospital for back treatment, Romeo moves in with Morrell, whose attempted seduction of Ladine ends in angry confrontation. Rejected, Morrell throws Romeo out of his house, and attacks one of Ladine's suitors. When Morrell attacks Knocks' father, Joe intervenes, beats him and sees him off, thereby precipitating a family bonding. Romeo and Knocks are reunited, and perform a magic show together.
If there is indeed such a thing as a British film tradition it probably owes less to the Laura Ashley loveliness of the Merchant Ivory period romps which sell so well abroad than to the lower-budget work of film-makers like Shane Meadows, who is fast becoming to cinema what Morrissey once was to pop. Refining the blend of realism and romance which characterised 24 7, Meadows again proves himself one of our most intriguing visual poets with this engaging picture of English mores. At once insightful and inspirational, it reminds us that it's possible to make extraordinary movies about apparently ordinary people.
Whatever else it may seem to be, A Room for Romeo Brass is first and foremost a love story, played out between a succession of odd couples: two young boys, an estranged husband and wife, a misfit and his unattainable siren. Indeed, during one musical interlude, Meadows even plays Sunhouse's 'If This Is Love' against a montage of the lost souls, at odds with their partners, to drive the point home. In other hands it could be monstrously corny, but somehow the earthiness of the characters, the believable quirkiness of their relationships and the unsentimental eye through which Meadows spies them all (accompanied by an edgily endearing soundtrack of Beck, Ian Brown, Billy Bragg and others) prevent the project from sliding into mere pop-video clichés.
Instead, what we have here is a cinematic slice of life filtered through 30 years of British popular culture. From its Kes-style opening, to its classic television sitcom closing credits, Romeo Brass hits the nostalgic home-grown touchstones with ease, but crucially avoids cosiness at every turn. Like Ken Loach and Les Blair before him, Meadows possesses an unflinching eye which does not need rose-tinted spectacles to find delightful sights. What marks Meadows' work apart from that of many of his contemporaries is his ability to negotiate the change from significance to insignificance, drama to comedy, and humour to horror with ease, allowing each element to flow into the next as if each were an individually observed moment. On at least two occasions (most notably, Morrell's attempted seduction-cum-rape of Ladine) the juncture between laughter and violence is crossed so subtly that the audience is left genuinely shocked.
As before, Meadows is aided and abetted by a handsomely accomplished cast, with newcomers Andrew Shim and Ben Marshall delivering the sort of confidently accomplished youthful performances that only come from actors who have been genuinely put at their ease by their director. The parents also hit the right note throughout, thanks (apparently) to some on-camera improvisation, jokey outtakes of which are tacked on at the end presumably to leave the audience feeling good about these people, which we do. Special mention is due to Paddy Considine whose repressed nasal Morrell lurches from sad misfit, to jestery goon, to hateful bully with consistent conviction, encapsulating the wide emotional range of the entire eccentric movie.