*SPOILER ALERT*
The film attempts to pluck at your heartstrings right from the get-go. The scene is set using the tried and tested method of super close-ups of ice cubes tinkling in whiskey glasses, slow jazz starting up on a record player, teal and orange colour grading and twinkling orbs of soft golden bokeh. The opening lines of dialogue between Albie and Dee failed to make much of an impression on me, they seemed a little soppy and expositional. But when these same lines of dialogue are repeated, at the end of the film, the new context makes them very powerful and touching.
The care-home setting is great because at a meeting we are introduced to half a dozen zany and increasingly senile characters who quickly form a pack mentality and seem ready to mutiny against their kill-joy carer. The production design for this meeting scene is especially nice and shows great attention to detail - the Christmas decorations are sparse enough to somehow be a little bit sad, and the ugly patterns on the wall-paper and backs of chairs really create the texture of an old-people's home. The colouring has been used well throughout to enhance the pastel palette that the design team use.
The corridor chase sequence degenerates brilliantly into slapstick chaos. The burst of youthful vigour and energy the guys get when chasing a drink is hilarious, and the wheel POV shots of the wheelchair mimic the way action directors shoot super-cars in films like Fast and Furious.
The cinematography really stands out in certain places. The scene where the gang of thirsty old men raid the stash cupboard, and find nothing but boring old board games, uses central framing and deep focus on wide lenses almost in the style of Wes Anderson or some Kubrick shots.
After the fun and games of this chase the script delivers a very balanced and sensitive speech through Albie, who lectures the hog-tied caretaker on sympathising with the foibles of old people. It might normally be a little heavy-handed to have the message of the film explicitly stated. In Gin & Dry it works because we are caught off guard after the farcical hi-jinks, but also because David de Keyser's wrinkled face in wonderfully expressive and he has a kindly twinkle in his eye which makes us want to listen to him.
The final camera move is very effective, it pulls us into Albie's head and simulates the simultaneously sad and comforting feeling that a deceased loved one might be right beside us. The opening lines of dialogue are repeated and this time we understand that Albie and Dee have had this conversation thousands of times, perhaps because of the onset of dementia or Alzheimer's, and that now Dee is gone Albie will keep having this conversation as a way of keeping her with him. The dialogue I initially turned my nose up at now has me thinking and feeling, which means the film has managed to break through my cynicism. Now that's a real feat.
The film attempts to pluck at your heartstrings right from the get-go. The scene is set using the tried and tested method of super close-ups of ice cubes tinkling in whiskey glasses, slow jazz starting up on a record player, teal and orange colour grading and twinkling orbs of soft golden bokeh. The opening lines of dialogue between Albie and Dee failed to make much of an impression on me, they seemed a little soppy and expositional. But when these same lines of dialogue are repeated, at the end of the film, the new context makes them very powerful and touching.
The care-home setting is great because at a meeting we are introduced to half a dozen zany and increasingly senile characters who quickly form a pack mentality and seem ready to mutiny against their kill-joy carer. The production design for this meeting scene is especially nice and shows great attention to detail - the Christmas decorations are sparse enough to somehow be a little bit sad, and the ugly patterns on the wall-paper and backs of chairs really create the texture of an old-people's home. The colouring has been used well throughout to enhance the pastel palette that the design team use.
The corridor chase sequence degenerates brilliantly into slapstick chaos. The burst of youthful vigour and energy the guys get when chasing a drink is hilarious, and the wheel POV shots of the wheelchair mimic the way action directors shoot super-cars in films like Fast and Furious.
The cinematography really stands out in certain places. The scene where the gang of thirsty old men raid the stash cupboard, and find nothing but boring old board games, uses central framing and deep focus on wide lenses almost in the style of Wes Anderson or some Kubrick shots.
After the fun and games of this chase the script delivers a very balanced and sensitive speech through Albie, who lectures the hog-tied caretaker on sympathising with the foibles of old people. It might normally be a little heavy-handed to have the message of the film explicitly stated. In Gin & Dry it works because we are caught off guard after the farcical hi-jinks, but also because David de Keyser's wrinkled face in wonderfully expressive and he has a kindly twinkle in his eye which makes us want to listen to him.
The final camera move is very effective, it pulls us into Albie's head and simulates the simultaneously sad and comforting feeling that a deceased loved one might be right beside us. The opening lines of dialogue are repeated and this time we understand that Albie and Dee have had this conversation thousands of times, perhaps because of the onset of dementia or Alzheimer's, and that now Dee is gone Albie will keep having this conversation as a way of keeping her with him. The dialogue I initially turned my nose up at now has me thinking and feeling, which means the film has managed to break through my cynicism. Now that's a real feat.