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

Let There Be More Light 1

It was all about the light today...

West Leicester, February 2015

National Space Centre, North West Leicester, February 2015

(With thanks to Pink Floyd).

Working Methods 1

This will be mine.

All mine, I tell you.

All Images: Northgate Street, West Leicester, Going Home Time, February 2015

With a little more help from gravity.

Completed Painting: 'Map 4'

'Map 4', Acrylics & Paper Collage On Panel, 60 cm X 60 cm, 2015

I beat my small, self-imposed deadline and got four of these ‘Map’ paintings finished during January, (just).  This one, predictably enough, is ‘Map 4’.  At first glance, this relatively bread-and-butter approach to titling might seem like a bit of a cop-out, (could be worse; - it could just be ‘Untitled 4’), but many artists will report that titling paintings is often one of the most perplexing parts of the whole process.  I notice that it’s something my friend and fellow painter/blogger has been thinking about recently too.  In the case of these ‘Map’ pieces, I decided that my use of fragments of found text provided enough clues towards possible interpretation, without the need for me to over-emphasise things further.  My tendencies toward tightening every last nut and bolt, or leading the viewer too forcefully by the hand, are things I always need to be cautious about.

Parker Drive, North West Leicester, December 2014

Clearly, this one could easily be called ‘Point’ or ‘Anywhere Else’, or indeed, ‘Point Anywhere Else’, but to be honest, it might just as relevantly be entitled ‘Asda/Co-op Painting’.  Salvaged, and observed poster materials advertising both supermarkets provided the most of the collage elements of the piece and, indeed, their respective corporate identities were the trigger for the analogous green palette that prevailed throughout its evolution.  For what it’s worth, ‘Anywhere Else’ is lifted from Asda’s poster, and various areas of greenish half-tone pattern originate with the Co-op.  ‘Point’ comes from a completely separate text fragment, also found in the field, and also, very much about the power of green.  I’ll leave it up to any audience the painting may have to decide what, if anything, those phrases might imply, or whether they belong together or are a mere random conjunction.

Parker Drive, North West Leicester, December 2014

As in all of these ‘Maps’, the cartographical element relates to a specific location where advertising poster raw materials were collected or documented, and here we’re back on the junction of Leicester’s Blackbird Road and Parker Drive, which also featured in ‘Map 3’.  In the post on that piece, I mentioned that my regular car journeys through this location are often part of an actual routine supermarket run.  The self-reflexivity of all this is something I really enjoy about these current paintings, although it’s slightly compromised by the fact that I’m more likely to be on my way to Sainsbury’s than Asda or ‘The Co’.  I’m equally ambivalent about the merits, or otherwise, of all these big concerns, although Sainsbury’s have better underwear and a wider selection of magazines; plus - their aisles are wider and less congested.   I could argue that  it also signifies that I’m using the advertising for my own ends, rather than being led by it. I’ve effectively just done an advert for Sainsbury’s though, so I'm sure I’m just as lost in the retail maze as everyone else [1.].

Anyway, I digress.  One thing this painting does signify, along with the other ‘Maps’ so far, is the gradual reintroduction of more heightened colour into my current work.  There had been a tendency for things to become increasingly muted, or even monochrome, over the last year, but my current tendency is definitely to up the chromatic saturation a bit more again.  Ironically, the more muted quality of recent work may have been, in part, due to my heavy reliance on the found printed material of late.  We tell ourselves that the world of all pervasive advertising is a technicolour one, and yet, I consistently find that the printed colours I repurpose are actually much duller than my own acrylic pigments.  Add to this the effects of degrading, low-grade paper stock,  of weathering and street grime [2.], and the overall effect can become surprisingly muddy or greyish.  Maybe this is just one reason why advertising companies seem intent on gradually replacing paper posters with illuminated screens.  The constant imperative  to capture our attention must make the unrivalled visual impact of coloured light, and perceived technological advance, irresistible [3].

Of course, all that urban grit and entropic evidence is all something I normally relish, and finding ways to handle it can be highly enjoyable.  However, it just feels like time for the paintings to start singing a little more as synthetic concoctions in their own right again.  In reality, I think there’s still a strong element of grunge in these pieces generally.  This recourse to colour does mean that a greater proportion of paint is actually creeping back in, and that I’ve also returned to my old habit of augmenting my palette with fluorescent pigments, (as in the street map element here).  The use of self-consciously non-organic colour in the urban environment is always of particular interest to me.  For all the grime and Midland-grey [4.] skies which may accompany my repeated visits to these locations, I’m equally struck by the vivid plastics and industrial surfaces coatings that adorn many of the commercial buildings I pass amongst.  At this point, it’s worth noting that the block of green occupying the lower right section of this painting is a reference to the corporate identity of a Fitness Centre, whose location is also included in this section of street map.

Blackbird Road, North West Leicester, December 2014

Yet again, I’m uncertain just how successful this painting really is, but there’s no time to worry about all that right now.  Of the four ‘Maps’ produced so far, this one was the trickiest to resolve, and felt slightly in danger of dragging on a little.  I think it’s as good as it can be for now, so it’s definitely time to move on.  I’ve plans to get on with a couple of larger ones now, and need to get motoring if they’re to make meaningful progress during February.  All this self-imposed urgency and setting of little deadlines feels quite strange for me, but it seems to be working so far.

[1.]:  Don’t do as I do folks, - bin off these big companies and buy your pants and groceries from the market, or local independent outlets, (if you still have any).  There, - I’ve redressed the balance a little.  (Actually, shop wherever you can be bothered, - it’s none of my business).

[2.]:  Much of the poster material I salvage is picked up from the ground after it’s detached itself and fallen during heavy wind and/or rain.  The sheer weight of accumulated paper applied with soluble adhesive, means there is a tipping point from which the posters can no longer resist gravity and inclement weather.  They’ve normally already been through the wars by the time I get hold of them.

[3.]:  I’m reminded here of both Walter Benjamin’s meditations on the resonance of illuminated advertising, and of David Batchelor’s writing on the same subject.  I’ve blogged about this more than once:

Walter Benjamin, 'One Way Street & Other Writings', London, Penguin Modern Classics, 2009

David Batchelor, 'The Luminous And The Grey', London, Reaktion Books, 2014.

I’m also forced to concede that I may soon need to take more account in my work, of the fact that the world of analogue materiality and associated physical entropy, in which I am so invested, is increasingly being replaced by a more virtual/digital version of ‘reality’.

[4.]:  I’m reminded that there was once even a bus company called Midland Grey.  Talk about rubbing our noses in it!

Completed Painting: 'Map 3'

'Map 3', Acrylics & Paper Collage On Panel, 60 cm X 60 cm, 2015

Here’s ‘Map 3’, - the third of my current crop of ‘Map’ Paintings to reach completion.  They’re still coming fairly thick and fast, which is pleasing and proves that the groundwork I put in just before Christmas is currently paying off.  I’ve completed four of these at the same size and in the same vein, this month, - with another, of different dimensions, under way.  Unusually for me, I’m actually finishing stuff faster than I’m blogging about them!

As discussed in my recent posts about ‘Map1’ & ‘2’, these have been specifically produced with June’s ‘Mental Mapping’ exhibition at Rugby Art Gallery & Museum, in mind.  Of course, it’s impossible to tell exactly which will make the final cut, (or how much other work may accompany them), but all I can do for now is keep striking why the iron is hot.  I’m far too close to really assess the quality of this work, but I believe in it and am enjoying producing it.  I also now realise that one of the key functions of any exhibition, is for the artist to get a little more perspective on things, once they are talking to each other from someone else’s walls.

The general comments about, and descriptions of, my two previous ‘Maps’ still apply here, although it’s worth mentioning that this one relates to a different geographical site.  As before, it’s another place where fallen advertising posters were harvested, to subsequently form the collaged basis of the piece.  In this case, it’s the junction of Blackbird Road and Parker Drive in Leicester, - just a little north west of the city centre.  If the preceding two pieces related to a junction I usually traverse on foot or by cycle, I most regularly pass this way by car, - either on my way to my day job, on a routine supermarket run, or to the nearby large, orange DIY warehouse.

That last destination highlights another level of self-reflexivity, as most of the board, timber, nails, etc. used to make my painting panels, and all of the PVA adhesive in which my work is drenched, come from that very outlet.  I have it in mind that at least one of the coming pieces might make even more specific reference to that site.  It’s fair to say that, after innumerable repeat visits over the years, I now have a pretty vivid mental sub-map of the car park at B&Q!

North West Leicester, December 2014

In this case however, the colour scheme for the piece derives largely from the premises of a car components company which overlooks the junction from a slightly elevated position toward the end of Parker Drive.  This is typical of the kind of incongruous, deeply mundane landmark that has actually become a significant, (even subjectively resonant), way-marker for me on this regular journey.  The ‘Counter’ text also originates from the side of the same building, where entropy has brought about a seductive fragment of red-on-red ghost text.  ‘Bought For Cash’, was lifted from a second-had car lot a few metres further along Blackbird Road, and was a phrase that just felt far too pointed to ignore.  The two legends seemed to complement each other pretty well, without being directly linked.

North West Leicester, December 2014

On a pretty obvious level, they might allude to the idea that to move through a modern city is to pass through a totally quantified, commodified environment, (hardly an original observation, I realise).  The very posters that provide raw material for this work are, of course, a clear physical manifestation of that.  Increasingly, it seems that idea of commodification extends to pretty much every aspect of our very lives, and I suppose it’s no coincidence that I should most regularly pass that way on my way to buy stuff, or to exchange my valuable time for the cash needed to buy even more stuff.  As ever, I can spoon-feed potential viewers these (not very sophisticated) ideas, but would really rather they found their own interpretations, if the paintings are to really live.

What I do know is that my current preoccupations seem more than ever tied into the idea of achieving some subjective reclaiming of what The Situationists termed ‘The Everyday’ [1.].  If their own agenda was ultimately one of Marxist revolution, my own is perhaps rather more one of bemused observation.  However, I am very attached to their original notion that only through a personally constructed, and deeply subjective relationship with everyday existence, might we find ways to transcend the prescribed drip-feed of Capitalist Spectacle.  Finding new magic in nominally mundane locations is, by now, a well understood strategy for achieving this.



[1.]:  Raoul Vaneigem, 'The Revolution Of Everyday Life' (Original Title: 'Traite De Savoir-Vivre A L'Usage Des Jeunes Generations'), Paris, Gallimard, 1967