John McGill is a boy with promise. He is well-mannered, respects his elders and passes exams with scholarly ease. He is unique in Peter Mullan's depiction of 1970's Glasgow, where the only real aspiration for him is to not become a NED – a non-educated delinquent.
Connor McCarron, who plays McGill, is cruelly put through his paces in his debut film. He does things many seasoned actors wouldn't. Sometimes it seems his acting can't hide that he doesn't want to do some of those things. He doesn't give as urgent a performance as Martin Compston gave for Ken Loach in 'Sweet Sixteen' nearly 10 years ago, but my goodness do you feel for him.
I couldn't quite figure out who is to blame for McGill's plight; everyone is condemned – from the Catholic Church (the fight with an imaginary Jesus is silly when it wants to be profound), to bellicose teachers, a bigoted police force and even the middle class.
We feel sorry for McGill because he never feels sorry for himself. He never challenges those who do him harm. A teacher lashes him for lying about not knowing the answer to a Latin translation. McGill takes the lashes and asks for more. Intelligence is a weakness and being a swot is dangerous. He has no choice but to become a NED (although he is more an ED than a NED).
The violence is upfront and brutal. Call me a wuss, but those gang fights are terrifying. Mullan makes you a victim. I'm sure I detected a semblance of Mike Oldfield's 'Tubular Bells' – a wise musical choice to dramatise McGill's declining sanity. Every time I predicted something the story surprised me, though it loses its way a bit as McGill is drawn deeper into delinquency.
Mullan is honest in interviews about his inspiration for the film's content. The drunken father he plays worryingly well is meant to be his own dad. So, when McGill smashes his face ceaselessly with a frying pan, that's Mullan exorcising a demon. You're closer to authenticity with autobiography, and Mullan is closer to being the heir to Leigh and Loach than any one else Britain has.
www.scottishreview.net
Connor McCarron, who plays McGill, is cruelly put through his paces in his debut film. He does things many seasoned actors wouldn't. Sometimes it seems his acting can't hide that he doesn't want to do some of those things. He doesn't give as urgent a performance as Martin Compston gave for Ken Loach in 'Sweet Sixteen' nearly 10 years ago, but my goodness do you feel for him.
I couldn't quite figure out who is to blame for McGill's plight; everyone is condemned – from the Catholic Church (the fight with an imaginary Jesus is silly when it wants to be profound), to bellicose teachers, a bigoted police force and even the middle class.
We feel sorry for McGill because he never feels sorry for himself. He never challenges those who do him harm. A teacher lashes him for lying about not knowing the answer to a Latin translation. McGill takes the lashes and asks for more. Intelligence is a weakness and being a swot is dangerous. He has no choice but to become a NED (although he is more an ED than a NED).
The violence is upfront and brutal. Call me a wuss, but those gang fights are terrifying. Mullan makes you a victim. I'm sure I detected a semblance of Mike Oldfield's 'Tubular Bells' – a wise musical choice to dramatise McGill's declining sanity. Every time I predicted something the story surprised me, though it loses its way a bit as McGill is drawn deeper into delinquency.
Mullan is honest in interviews about his inspiration for the film's content. The drunken father he plays worryingly well is meant to be his own dad. So, when McGill smashes his face ceaselessly with a frying pan, that's Mullan exorcising a demon. You're closer to authenticity with autobiography, and Mullan is closer to being the heir to Leigh and Loach than any one else Britain has.
www.scottishreview.net