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 In cinemas Thursday [MA15+]
Director: Andrew Haigh
Runtime: 97mins.
Two people have a one-night stand. The morning after one pulls out a tape recorder and asks the other to recount everything that happened the night before. Not only what they did but why, and how they felt about it. This is the premise of new British film Weekend. The results are more awkward than a walk of shame, but they’re also more insightful, funny and touching.
Yes, both parties are men, but to categorize Weekend as a “gay film” is to do it a disservice. Sure they meet at a gay bar, but this isn’t the world of topless discos and body glitter. The term “camp” couldn’t be applied to either of the men in question. This is a film that goes beyond labels and stereotypes. Like the art project that initiates it, Weekend studies the complexities of how we present ourselves, who we really are, and the space between.
Both men are keenly drawn. Russell (Tom Cullen) is a softly spoken lifeguard with a taste for antique crockery. He is out to his friends but not his parents. Glen (Chris New) is a combative young artist scarred by a philandering ex-boyfriend. Both have their reasons to be cautious, yet their connection is undeniable. From stilted beginnings their one-night stand blossoms into a weekend of romance. Not that romance is something they can admit to – they’re both too guarded for that. Especially considering Russell lives in Nottingham, a place where bigotry and bashings seem to be a constant threat. Not that it’s bleak to look at. Cinematographer Urszula Pontikos washes the urban sprawl in delicate blues, pinks and yellows.
All of this is directed with remarkable skill and elegance by Andrew Haigh, who also edited and wrote the screenplay. Previously he directed Greek Pete, a docu-drama about male prostitution. While Weekend touches on issues like gay marriage, the film is wryly self-aware, and sometimes even cynical. Glen knows his artwork will probably never be shown. In his words, the gays will only come for a glimpse of cock, while straights won’t go at all; “They’ll go and see pictures of refugees or murder or rape, but gay sex? Fuck off!”
There’s not a single false note or sentimental moment throughout. Everything rings achingly true; whether it’s Russell’s dithering on whether to end a text with an ‘x’ or smiley-face emoticon, or the film’s sweetly elusive end.
*****
SCOTT FORD
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