Stephen Knight: 'Locke'

I finally got round to watching Director, Stephen Knight’s movie, ‘Locke’ [1.], the other day.  I was reminded of the film by Shaun Morris’ blog mention to it, a few weeks back, - recalling that it was one of those that fell through my net when on limited cinematic release in 2014.  For a while I kept forgetting the title too, - in another of those disquieting indications of advancing middle age.  Anyway, whilst buying milk and potatoes in Sainsbury’s recently [2.], - there it was on DVD, and at a price that it would have been rude to ignore.  It turned out to be a right bargain.

Still From: Stephen Knight (Dir.), ' Locke', Shoebox Films/I M Global, 2013/14

Like another recent favourite from last year, ‘Under the Skin’ [3.], ‘Locke’ is a low budget/high impact example of how many of the best film makers are squeezing really interesting results out of pretty economical means these days.  Like that film, it also features a very strong central performance from a relatively mainstream actor, (in this case, Tom Hardy as the eponymous Ivan Locke), working under somewhat experimental conditions.

Still From: Jonathan Glazer (Dir.), 'Under The Skin', Film4/BFI, 2013/14

In ‘UTS’, some of the most intriguing scenes were those in which Scarlett Johansson’s emotionally blank alien prowled the streets of Glasgow in an anonymous white van, as reflected lights and glimpses of the outside world played across the windows of her enclosed cab like a film within a film.  ‘Locke’ takes that to even more symphonic visual extremes; becoming an elegy to the unceasing, hypnotic parade of vehicle lights we’ve all experienced while travelling in cars after dark.  The vaguely Post-Rock atmospherics of Dikon Hinchliffe’s score also contribute admirably to that mesmeric world [4.].  However, whilst Scarlett eventually got to walk about and interact with others, (however haltingly), in an alien landscape beyond her vehicle, Hardy spends the entirety of this film behind the wheel, on a single, solo, motorway drive.  His only interaction with a small cast of additional characters, (and the only way that the plot can therefore advance), is via a constant stream of phone calls, and those few occasions when he talks out loud to himself or to his imagined father.

At this point, a little exposition is probably necessary.  We first encounter Ivan Locke as he gets into his car at a massive construction site in the West Midlands.  He is, we learn, a highly accomplished concrete specialist, respected for his dependability, and a solidity of character matched only by the materials he works with.  As the story gradually unfolds through his numerous phone calls, we also learn he enjoys a stable family life with two adoring sons and a devoted wife.  He commences his journey on the eve of “the largest concrete pour in Europe, outside of the nuclear or military industries”, (a PR phrase he repeats throughout the film with increasing resignation, like a mantra of jeopardy).  He should be on his way home for an enjoyable family evening watching football on TV and an early night.

Still From: Stephen Knight (Dir.), 'Locke', Shoebox Films/I M Global, 2013/14

Instead, Locke sets off to drive to London in order, it transpires, to attend the premature birth of a child he has fathered as the result of an uncharacteristic, brief liaison with an emotionally fragile woman he hardly knows.  This single act, based on his unshakable need to subsequently ‘do the right thing’, stems from a deeply held resentment towards his own absent and unreliable father.  It also triggers a train of events in which the certainties of career and marriage unravel over the phone as he drives on through the night.  Relieved of his official post, he still attempts to fire fights the several crises besetting the preparations for the concrete pour remotely, (via an increasingly panicky subordinate).  Simultaneously, he fields calls from, amongst others, his wife, his sons, his superior, medical staff, and the terrified mother-to-be waiting at the end of his journey.  The film ends as he nears his destination, having, in two hours, seemingly lost everything, “apart from myself and the car I’m in”.

If, as I’ve seen it billed, ‘Locke’ is a thriller, it is purely one of an implied or psychological variety.  Relatively little actually happens on screen, (in terms of action, - loads happens in other respects), yet the events overtaking the subject are life changing and existential in nature.  By limiting the main character’s arena to a few cubic feet of enclosed interior space, events can only be internalised by him, and his psychology be thus laid bare.  I’m tempted to make connections with Joel Schumacher’s thriller, ‘Phone Booth’ [5.], in which a flawed protagonist is forced to confront his own actions behind glass and over the phone, with a sniper who has him pinned down in a telephone kiosk.

Still From: Joel Schumacher (Dir.), 'Phone Booth', Zucher/Netter Productions, 2002

Naturally, the success of a character study such as this hangs on the lead performance.  I know very little about Tom Hardy, other than that his previous work appears to have been in fairly mainstream blockbusters.  It’s all the more impressive then that his work here is so controlled and focused.  His Ivan Locke is a man clearly used to dealing with the world with unflappable logic, and a hitherto unshakable belief that everything can be put right through determination and perseverance.  He is a man, as his wife puts it, whose very footprints turn to stone.  The certainties on which he has attempted to base his life are paralleled by the need to create the most stable concrete foundation possible for the tower that’s being built. 

Certainly, there’s nowhere for Hardy to hide, as his face necessarily fills much of the frame for the vast majority of the film.  He proves adept at conveying the growing sense of exasperation overtaking Locke in admirably subtle ways.  Even when he does let loose, it’s to himself, and he repeatedly tries to reset himself to his rational, softly spoken default state before fielding the next disquieting piece of information.  Even as he is forced to admit he may even be going a little mad, the impression is that this is just another issue that will have to be dealt with.  Some actors might attempt to convey all this with increasing levels of cartoonish derangement but Hardy communicates it mainly through subtle changes in facial tension or vocal intonation, and the occasional momentarily frustrated slump over the steering wheel.  Such anger as may be building within him, appears mostly blanketed by bemused stoicism.

Still From: Stephen Knight (Dir.), 'Locke', Shoebox Films/I M Global, 2013/14

‘Locke’ subjects its protagonist to considerable existential/psychic travail, but it’s striking how this plays out within completely technological contexts.  It’s a distinctly First World fable.  Ivan Locke’s life may be unraveling, but it does so from the comfort of his BMW’s leather upholstery, and via its integrated, hands-free communication system.  It’s a reminder of how even the scariest parts of our lives are often insulated from the outside world or mediated through channels.  The downside is, as so many now find, that he must be constantly available to others, and is required to deal with multiple situations both simultaneously and remotely.  The point he appears most lost, but also, most cut free potentially, is that at which he just lets his phone ring.

Still From: Stephen Knight (Dir.), 'Locke', Shoebox Films/I M Global, 2013/14

Essentially, Locke’s real problem is that, as a consequence of his own actions, everyone now wants a piece of him.  Forced to prioritise, - he’s unable to square the circle of keeping everyone happy, and the price he must pay for abiding by his own code of personal ethics becomes massive indeed.  Only as he starts to doubt his own sanity do we glimpse the cracks in his personality.  His strange personification of “The Concrete”, the suggestions of the hubris often attributed to builders of towers, and the accusations leveled at the father he imagines in the rear-view mirror, all point to that code being as much based on psychological fallibility as on nobility or calm reason.  Perhaps it’s a singularly male tragedy that those destined to suffer most, (himself apart), are those closest to him.

I suppose, given my own current enthusiasms for concrete and driving at night, and a general taste for a little psychology with my drama, it was inevitable I’d be drawn to ‘Locke’.  It stands up as quality gear in its own right though, and I’d recommend it to anyone who doesn’t require every film they see to be populated by superheroes and Hobbits, or to mostly resemble a computer game.  It’s up there with a handful of movies I’ve seen over the last couple of years, all of which manage to be intriguing and pleasingly experimental, without becoming completely elitist in their avant-garde affectations.  Like ‘Under The Skin’, ‘A Field In England’ [6.], and ‘The Double’ [7.], amongst others, it also proves that the most satisfying and thought-provoking cinema is often now made without an extravagant budget or overwhelming digital trickery.

[1.]:  Stephen Knight (Dir.), ‘Locke’, Shoebox Films/IM Global, UK, 2013/14

[2.]:  Should I be concerned by how often routine trips to the supermarket feel worthy of comment on this blog just lately?  Are my horizons too narrow?  Am I spending far too long in these vacuous places?  (Dunno, - Possibly, - Yes).

[3.]:  Jonathan Glazer (Dir.), ‘Under The Skin’, Film 4/BFI, UK, 2013/14

[4.]:  Albeit not quite as experimentally as Mica Levi’s much vaunted ‘Under The skin’ score.

[5.]:  Joel Schumacher (Dir.), ‘Phone Booth’, Zucker/Netter Productions, USA 2002

[6.]:  Ben Wheatley (Dir.), ‘A Field In England’, Rook Films, UK, 2013

[7.]:  Richard Ayoade (Dir.), ‘The Double’, Alcove Entertainment/Film4/BFI, UK, 2013/14

Jonathan Glazer: 'Under The Skin'

A little while ago, I mentioned the advertising work of Jonathan Glazer in connection with the exhibition, 'Since 1843: In The Making', at Nottingham Trent University, where several of his familiar TV and film ads ran on a show reel amidst the work of other Trent alumni.  Whilst being impressed once more by the high production values, resonant imagery and sly humour of Glazer’s work, I couldn’t help my sense of disillusionment at such high quality work coming into existence purely to shift sportswear, T.V.s and expensive beer.  Call me an old hippy if you like but, ultimately, such output, however well realised,  just seems to make the world a little more debased and disappointing.  I know, - it creates work, fuels the economy, brings pleasure, etc, but still, I just feel my life become ever more enmeshed in someone else's marketing plan…

Jonathan Glazer

Jonathan Glazer, Still From: 'Sony Bravia (Paint)',
TV Ad., 2006

Hence, it was with interest that I went to see ‘Under The Skin’, [1.] - Glazer’s alt-science fiction feature film, the other day.  I enjoyed it immensely and, rather than being disillusioned, left the cinema feeling like my life had been enriched, just a little, for having watched it.

Scarlett Johansson.  Still From: 'Under The Skin', 2014

‘Under The Skin’ has received numerous critical plaudits and not a little media attention, in large part because of the presence of big-league Hollywood star Scarlett Johansson in the lead role.  Perhaps it’s a sign of the times that the participation of Ms. Johansson in a distinctly non-mainstream, experimental film should be greeted with distinct surprise.  However compromised by the demands of the marketplace movie-making may be, should it be such a stretch to believe that an actress who is, (I assume), serious about her work, might relish the challenge of working in new and interesting ways with a director willing to take creative risks?  Cynics might observe that it doesn’t hurt to have the occasional left-field entry on her CV, but I’m not exactly unknown for my cynicism, and am trying to give everyone the benefit of the doubt here.

Scarlett Johansson.  Still From: 'Under The Skin', 2014

There’s always a risk of including too many spoilers in a film review, but I don’t think it’s any secret that Johansson plays the part of a mysterious alien who prowls the streets of Glasgow in an anonymous van, preying upon lone men with what can only be described as a kind of fascinating blank allure.  The exact nature of her victims’ demise, in the squalid darkness of an abandoned house, is both ambiguous and highly stylised.  Glazer’s calm use of digital manipulation in these minimalist passages reveals just a little more each time but is far more effective than anything that might have been achieved with chaotic camera work, rapid editing or Grand Guignol.  The men are certainly ‘had’, but in a way that could not be predicted.

Scarlett Johansson.  Beware, - White Van Woman.  Still From: 'Under The Skin', 2014

This willingness to play everything down is the key to both the film’s success overall, and the power of Johansson’s performance in particular.  She is, of course, hardly a stranger to a particular mode of enigmatic, internalised performance, (although I sometimes suspect I’m the only person who actually likes ‘Lost In Translation’, [2.] - the film in which she first came to my attention.)  It can’t hurt either that she is blessed with a certain brand of glacial beauty and the ability to do that only-just-kind-of-smiling thing that seems to allude either to something far away, or an only partial connection with those upon whom it falls.  It appears that many of Johansson’s chance encounters with strange men were actually filmed 'for real' with anonymous members of the public, indicating a willingness on her part to go out on a limb, an impressive ability to play straight, and in passing, mastery of a completely convincing, English assent.  That use of middle class English tones to imply an alien presence on Scottish streets is both effective, and rather sly, just now.

Scarlett Johansson.  Still From: 'Under The Skin', 2014

The world through which Johansson’s character passes as the most unusual visitor, is distinctly mundane.  Lacking any particular gloss about her adopted appearance either, she drives through a dimly lit environment of dull streets, nondescript suburbs, trading estates and ring roads.  Having employed numerous memorable examples of heightened Capitalist Spectacle in his day job, Glazer proves here that he is more than capable of capturing the intrinsically bizarre nature of the over-familiar.  In this aspect, the film reminds me not a little of ‘Morvern Caller’, [3.] - another film in which an impassive female protagonist attempts to construct some kind of identity within Scottish surroundings that are strangely resonant through their essential drabness.

Scarlett Johansson, - The Woman Who Fell To Earth.  Still From: 'Under The Skin', 2014

Nicholas Roeg (Dir.), 'The Man Who Fell To Earth', 1976

Another precursor that springs to mind is Nicholas Roeg’s ‘The Man Who Fell To Earth’ [4.].  Whatever one thinks of David Bowie’s performance in that film, there’s no doubt it captures a similar sense of an impassive stranger attempting to make sense of an alien environment.  In Roeg’s piece, Bowie’s initially high achieving, and essentially exploitative alien is gradually traduced by the human society through which he moves, and this is a feature of ‘Under The Skin’ too.  Glazer hangs his script [5.] around two pivotal episodes.  The first is a moment of almost unbearable human tragedy that ably demonstrates Johansson’s character’s terrifying detachment.  The second involves a sea change in her relationship with potential human prey, and the start of something that might be called empathy, or at very least a growing curiosity about the species around her, (literally).

Stills From: 'Under The Skin', 2014

Beyond this point, her failing attempts to pursue this impulse see her character acquire previously unseen levels of vulnerability amidst the fog and rain of a Highland landscape.  Her baffled flight from the tentative beginnings of a considerate relationship is followed by an encounter with much darker aspects of human behaviour.  The film’s abrupt denouement is both visually arresting and truly shocking in it’s all-too banal horror.  Ultimately, there is little equivocation about which species is being examined here.

Stills From: 'Under The Skin', 2014

I’ve seen a number of films over the last year or eighteen months, most of which left me pretty unimpressed, despite their hype.  Consequently, 'Under The Skin' came as a very welcome surprise, and the best thing I’d seen since Ben Wheatley’s splendid ‘A Field In England’, [6.] last year.  He demonstrates the visual flair we might have expected, but also an ability to communicate an intriguing and unusual script with real intelligence.  His willingness to leave certain aspects largely unexplained, such as the sinister (alien) motorcyclist, who both assists and shadows Johansson, or her own back-story, only add to the film’s power to effect.  I should also mention the film's impressive, largely abstract, title sequence, which establishes its basic premise in a delightfully oblique manner.  Perhaps most impressively, he imbues what might have been a simple exercise in weird escapism, with real insights into the human condition and a distinct feminist perspective on the nature of inter-gender relationships.

Still From: 'Under The Skin', 2014

If the money earned flogging Guinness allows Glazer to realise films like ‘Under The Skin’, perhaps it proves that, in the world we must all inhabit, things really aren’t just black and white.

[1.]:  Jonathan Glazer, 'Under The Skin', UK/US, BFI/Film4 Productions/StudioCanal/A24 Films, 2014

[2.]:  Sophia Coppola (Dir.), 'Lost In Translation', US, American Zeotrope/Tohokushinsha Film/Focus Films, 2003

[3.]:  Lynne Ramsey (Dir.), 'Morvern Caller', UK, Company Pictures/Alliance Atlantis/BBC Films, 2002

[4.]:  Nicholas Roeg (Dir.), 'The Man Who Fell To Earth', UK, British Lion Films, 1976

[5.]:  Glazer co-scripted 'Under The Skin' with Nick Weschler, basing it on Michael Faber's 2000 novel of the same name.  See: Michael Faber, 'Under The Skin', Edinburgh, Canongate Books, 2000

[6.]:  Ben Wheatley (Dir.), 'A Field In England', UK, Rook Films/Film4 Productions, 2013