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UK 1999
Reviewed by Edward Lawrenson
Our synopses give away the plot in full, including surprise twists.
The Welsh valleys, the present. Linda works at La Scala, an ageing bingo hall owned by Mr Anzani. Faced with competition from the huge Mega Pleasure complex nearby, Anzani enters La Scala in the National Bonanzo, which promises a jackpot of 1 million.
La Scala's bingo caller Gavin takes a job with Mega Pleasure, despite his and Linda's closeness. Linda's aunt Beth demands her share of the house she co-owned with Linda's late mother, threatening to make Linda homeless. Linda, meanwhile, realises she can shape the outcome of bingo games by thinking of the numbers before they're called, but she can't play the game because she has been made the caller. She plans to use her powers to win the Bonanzo game and save La Scala, and is relying on Gavin to play for her. But after discovering her colleague Kay's attempt to seduce Gavin, Linda can only trust Beth to play the game for her; Beth refuses. Having lost his Mega Pleasure job, a contrite Gavin agrees to play the Bonanzo and to split any winnings with Linda.
Just before the Bonanzo game begins, Beth turns up. Linda unwittingly causes Beth to win, but Beth refuses to share the money. However, unbeknown to everyone, Mr Anzani bet a La Scala customer would pocket the jackpot. With the winnings, he turns La Scala into a restaurant.
Facing the closure of his beloved bingo hall La Scala, the proprietor Mr Anzani says of the place: "I like to think we offer our customers more than bingo." So in addition to laying on regular games, Anzani provides his elderly clientele with cut-price gourmet Italian food and a bingo caller whose fizzy stage presence is worth the price of attendance alone (he bombards his audience with saucy jokes and does the odd bit of juggling).
Anzani's line in homely diversification - housed within the fading art-deco splendour of La Scala - is made to contrast with the anonymous functionality of his competitor, the vast bingo hall run by the Mega Pleasure chain. In this respect, House! follows a folksy, Ealing-comedy tradition of small-scale, ramshackle enterprises ranged against the soulless face of progress, usually represented by big corporations. In the film's most telling scene, Anzani dwells nostalgically on La Scala's past incarnation as a cinema, recalling Basil Dearden's charming 1957 film The Smallest Show on Earth (wherein a young couple attempt to save a picture house from greedy proprietors). But in his haste to convince us that La Scala is so much more than a mere bingo hall, there's also a tacit admission from debut director Julian Kemp of the inherent difficulty in turning bingo into dramatically satisfying cinema. Ultimately, bingo boils down to the random selection of numbered balls, profoundly uninvolving if you're not a player.
To avoid tying the fate of his characters to something so arbitrary, screenwriter Jason Sutton endows Linda (an engaging Kelly Macdonald) with the powers to predict which balls will be called. His reluctance to build to a climax that depends entirely on a game of chance is understandable. But Sutton ends up short-changing his audience even further by introducing this muddling, supernatural device.
As if to compensate for the implausibilities in the script, children's television drama director Kemp, working with Norwegian director of photography Kjell Vassdal (Junk Mail), directs with cartoonish pizzazz - whip-pans, jarring zooms and wide-angled close-ups abound. If at times this seems a little affected, like the more modish extremes of British cinema in the 60s (which House!'s jazzy opening titles put you in mind of), there are some genuinely witty visual flourishes (an airbag blows up in the face of a car driver milliseconds after he prangs his car).
Kemp's infectious energy almost manages to make bingo seem exciting: in the final 1 million jackpot game, he cuts between the tense, alert faces of the elderly bingo players and huge, semi-abstract close-ups of balls. Admittedly, the strange, hallucinatory quality of this scene might sap what little narrative tension the script is able to muster. But should Camelot executives be looking for someone to revamp their tired National Lottery show, Kemp would seem to be the ideal candidate.