As Hollywood endlessly churns up more and more blockbusters by the reel, that don't need half as many 0's on the budget as they used to (Paranormal Activity, Monsters), the Brit-hits are becoming as abundant as those missing digits. With the exception of it being yet another crime with Ray Winstone who's no longer a Sexy Beast, or attached to someone called Mike Leigh – who is yet just the one man, or directed by the promising debuter Duncan Jones, there is only one man who also comes to mind.
Shane Meadow's titles of his last films don't conceive instantaneous must-see's - Dead Man's Shoes, Once Upon a Time in the Midlands, but they stink with intrigue. This is England is no different except it has been watched so not being judged on the basis on its grimy impulse. Set in 1983, year of clunky boots, Return of the Jedi (any excuse for Star Wars to be mentioned) and mass mob murder. Decade of less prominent political correctness, skin heads and racism. Shaun, a puppy eyed, foul mouth, who lost his dad in the Falkland war was a character based on the experiences of Shane Meadows himself.
And similar to the way the rise and fall of mafia life has been portrayed effortlessly, youth culture is remarkably parallel. Same degree of respect, nicknames, 'You watch my back and I won't stab yours' attitude and the change of a once light hearted atmosphere in a blink of a twitch. Shaun learns this as we learn it, often lashing out unexpectedly because of it, or giving into it through peer pressure, making the whole experience unsettling. Saying that, he's a child and savours the companionship whether it be good or bad or temperamental and as much as you hate to see him drown in what is so blatantly wrong, he enjoys it with every once of ignorance a child of his age should.
Meadow's films it like anything that calls itself a drama should. Though the phrase docudrama wouldn't be totally inaccurate either; the close-ups, with their heavy breathing, heavy silence and piercing stares into to nothingness or more effectively at you. Then there's the whole thematic vortex that American History X spun with an indispensable rotation, by balancing the racism and redemption near flawlessly. This is England, can't quite weigh down the latter as much as it could have, but the racism never feels unlike the characters or excessive to the point of nauseating; it's all precisely handled as emotive monologues and not just violence swiftly followed by a racist jibe.
It's as powerful as it is offensive, as poignant as it is vicious and as precise as it is brilliant. If this is England, Hollywood's not quite stole all the limelight just yet.
Shane Meadow's titles of his last films don't conceive instantaneous must-see's - Dead Man's Shoes, Once Upon a Time in the Midlands, but they stink with intrigue. This is England is no different except it has been watched so not being judged on the basis on its grimy impulse. Set in 1983, year of clunky boots, Return of the Jedi (any excuse for Star Wars to be mentioned) and mass mob murder. Decade of less prominent political correctness, skin heads and racism. Shaun, a puppy eyed, foul mouth, who lost his dad in the Falkland war was a character based on the experiences of Shane Meadows himself.
And similar to the way the rise and fall of mafia life has been portrayed effortlessly, youth culture is remarkably parallel. Same degree of respect, nicknames, 'You watch my back and I won't stab yours' attitude and the change of a once light hearted atmosphere in a blink of a twitch. Shaun learns this as we learn it, often lashing out unexpectedly because of it, or giving into it through peer pressure, making the whole experience unsettling. Saying that, he's a child and savours the companionship whether it be good or bad or temperamental and as much as you hate to see him drown in what is so blatantly wrong, he enjoys it with every once of ignorance a child of his age should.
Meadow's films it like anything that calls itself a drama should. Though the phrase docudrama wouldn't be totally inaccurate either; the close-ups, with their heavy breathing, heavy silence and piercing stares into to nothingness or more effectively at you. Then there's the whole thematic vortex that American History X spun with an indispensable rotation, by balancing the racism and redemption near flawlessly. This is England, can't quite weigh down the latter as much as it could have, but the racism never feels unlike the characters or excessive to the point of nauseating; it's all precisely handled as emotive monologues and not just violence swiftly followed by a racist jibe.
It's as powerful as it is offensive, as poignant as it is vicious and as precise as it is brilliant. If this is England, Hollywood's not quite stole all the limelight just yet.