Ali & Ava

Writer/director Clio Barnard

director on the set

ALI & AVA               B+                                                                                                          Great Britain  (95 mi)  2021  ‘Scope  d: Clio Barnard

What would happen if you took melodrama as a genre and applied it to a social-realist version of Bradford that’s based on real people?  It’s an opportunity to think about what it means to be part of a community.  There’s a lot of kindness, generosity and support in Bradford and I wanted to see that writ large on the big screen.                                                                            —Writer/director Clio Barnard

An exquisitely made film that comes at you from unexpected places, becoming a film for our times, an update on the Rainer Werner Fassbinder film ALI:  FEAR EATS THE SOUL (1974), which was itself a reworking of the Douglas Sirk melodrama, All That Heaven Allows (1955), filmed only ten miles from where the writer/director grew up in Bradford, which has been the setting in three of her four feature films to date, like 2011 Top Ten Films of the Year #4 The Arbor (2011) and Barnard’s equally great 2014 Top Ten List #6 The Selfish Giant, while all four of her films have been set in Yorkshire County.  In those films, what Barnard does extremely well is showcase marginalization in the town of Bradford, people living on the fringes of society, poetically expressing how ordinary lives can be extraordinary.  This may be her most accessible work, featuring an unconventional working class interracial romance from two character actors who rarely get the chance to perform in lead roles, British-Pakistani-Kenyan actor Adeel Akhtar, who has mostly been seen on television, and Claire Rushbrook, who got her start working with Mike Leigh in Secrets and Lies (1996,) also playing opposite Samantha Morton in Carine Adler’s vastly underseen UNDER THE SKIN (1997), her one and only feature, where it’s important to say these two actors perfectly embody the unique characters they inhabit.  This is a surprisingly offbeat film that dares to explore cultural differences through an unlikely middle-age romance, yet what really stands out is the abstract, impressionistic style of the director, taking pages from the Lynne Ramsay and Andrea Arnold social realist playbook, yet making it unique to her own aesthetic, creating an emotionally deep portrait of life in Bradford, West Yorkshire, inspired by two people that Barnard met while she was making earlier films, Moey Hassan, a Bradford actor (who appears briefly in the film), landlord, and DJ who worked with her on THE ARBOR, while a few years later she met Rio, a teacher’s assistant at a school in Bradford who walked out of an abusive relationship during the making of THE SELFISH GIANT, with additional support from script consultant and Bradford-based writer Kamal Kaan.

Music is the beating heart of the film, like an unseen character, described by the director as a “social realist musical,” as profoundly memorable as the personalities who embrace it, as it’s something that links these two people together, beautifully integrating their distinctly different internalized worlds.  Ali (Adeel Akhtar) is a likeable Pakistani landlord, a former DJ who is into punk and rap, exuberant music you can dance to, like the Buzzcocks, Sylan Esso, and Lunar C, while Ava (Claire Rushbrook) is a caring and exceedingly sensitive teacher’s assistant, a widowed Irish mother and grandmother who, much to his dismay, is more into country music and traditional folk ballads, like American outlaw country singer Sammi Smith and Irish singer Karan Casey.  Both Ireland and Pakistan are two countries that were part of the former British Empire, each carrying a legacy of violence and racism, yet part of the melting pot of post-industrial Bradford, which once drew migrant workers from around the world, playing an important part in the early history of the Labour Party, but now facing serious economic and social challenges.  Bradford is a culturally diverse city that has an uncomfortable history of racism, especially in the 70’s, which were marked by hateful demonstrations and attacks, also known for the Brontë sisters who were born on the outskirts.  Both coming from troubled situations and different worlds, yet living in the same town, Ali lives with his recently separated wife Runa (Ellora Torchia) in a working class immigrant neighborhood of rowhouses, while Ava lives in the predominately white housing estate of Holme Wood, leaving her door open to an extended family that frequently come to visit.  What brings them together is their mutual affection for an extremely shy 6-year old girl, Sofia (Ariana Bodorová), a child from Slovak tenants living in a building that Ali manages, who also has language difficulties at school, so hangs out on her own at the playground for the most part. 

In contrast to the rampant crime in the North of England depicted in THE RED RIDING TRILOGY (2009), or the working class dramas of Ken Loach, Barnard offers a compassionate perspective on Northern life, its people and their daily lives, as Ali is introduced in a dense fog standing on the roof of his car and violently headbanging to a high-energy rap track to let off steam, I Know (MAROT Remix) YouTube (4:28), while Ava is seen on a bus lost in thought to the quieter lyrics of Sammi Smith, Saunders Ferry Lane~Sammi Smith YouTube (3:16), each from their own different worlds.  As fate would have it, Ali and Ava are brought together outside the school in a driving rainstorm, with Ali offering Ava a ride home after dropping off Sofia, sharing a moment with the Buzzcocks on the car radio, Boredom YouTube (2:54), only to be pelted by rocks from belligerent neighborhood kids at Holme Wood, who simply have nothing better to do, Ali & Ava - Car Stoning YouTube (1:57), with Ali winning them over by upping the volume on his radio to music of local neighborhood rapper MC Innes, like the lure of the Pied Piper, turning into an instantaneous little dance party in his car.  The next time they meet, they jump around on a set of sofas in Ava’s living room and create their own little party, Ali & Ava - Official Clip #1 YouTube (1:51), yet they’re each listening to distinctly different musical tracks on headphones, creating a kind of kaleidoscopic mix of jubilation and confusion.  If you sense this is not your standard kitchen sink British miserablism that we’re used to, you’d be correct, as this is more celebratory and life affirming.  While there are certainly downbeat subjects woven into the storyline, with moments of profound sadness, loss, and grief, they are countered by more jubilant moments that simply recognize a joy in living, and what a comfort it is to be sharing it with someone you love. 

Premiering at Director’s Fortnight at Cannes in 2021, not much was known about this overlooked film, which seems to have fallen through the cracks and been forgotten, but this is a world class director who makes emotional powerhouse films, and this is no exception, reportedly exuding a quiet presence on the set, often deferring to the actors, realizing the importance of not knowing everything and having an openness to not knowing.  The two lead performances are remarkably nuanced, very well paired together, though they are nothing alike, other than the fact both are intrinsically linked to their respective communities, knowing their neighbors while actively helping them out, like the familiarity of Ali rolling down the car window in his neighborhood to ask who died at a passing funeral, where everyone knows everyone else, both showing signs of extreme generosity, where it’s not told in a conventional manner, as moments appear out of time, giving experimental touches that simply expand the depth and complexity of the film.  What’s particularly impressive are the Ozu-like transitional cityscape shots, like fireworks against a darkened sky, a glowing moon hovering overhead, a moody atmospheric glimpse of early morning twilight, or slowed down pauses that feel like still shots, as they accentuate moments of reflection.  Undercliffe Cemetery overlooks Bradford and is a special place for Ali and Ava to meet.  Occasionally, Sofia has a tendency to climb up the monkey bars, but gets stuck, unable to climb back down without assistance, with Ava offering her reassurance and support, but reminds her that if you’re brave enough to climb up, you must be brave enough to climb back down, which may as well be a theme for the film, which continually keeps viewers off balance even through the end credits, as there is a constant stream of surprises that greatly enhances the overall viewing experience.   

One of the most distinctive voices in British cinema, Barnard’s interest in film started at the age of 14 when she watched Mick Jagger in Nicolas Roeg’s Performance (1970), an acid trip of a movie.  It was on TV late at night, and she viewed it on a black-and-white portable in her bedroom with the volume turned down.  What amazed her was its ability to mess with her head.  “Here’s this real rock star pretending to be one, whose sort-of girlfriend is also in the film in this crazy threesome.  There was something about the real and the fictional that was really fascinating.  It blew my tiny mind.”  What’s most astonishing is how this film subverts expectations in a modern interracial romance that counters the fearmongering of toxic politicians, where there's a tenderness within, finding beauty in the most volatile moments through a beautifully shot character study about two lonely misfits who find emotional comfort and support in each other despite their past traumas and having to deal with community expectations, as they are a catalyst for change in each other’s lives.  There are shocking turns of darkness that come out of nowhere, taking us through intensely personalized avenues of racial abuse and domestic violence, as each respective family quickly disassociates themselves from this new love interest, finding fault in their character when it’s really about race, growing perilously ugly and even dangerous when Ava’s grown son Callum (Shaun Thomas, one of the local kids in THE SELFISH GIANT) pulls a samurai sword on Ali, believing his recently deceased father would roll over in his grave, as he was a member of the National Front (UK).  Ava’s Irish Republican father, who was fiercely proud of his heritage, deeply despised the British and disowned her for marrying an Englishman, a man Callum still idolizes, despite his history of abuse, causing plenty of friction.  Similarly, Ali’s sister calls Ava a “gori chav,” which basically means white trash, coming from a more traditional-minded family that has been kept in the dark about his imminent separation that he’s too ashamed to acknowledge, still living together with Runa but in different bedrooms, having shared an unspeakable trauma that they simply never recovered from. 

It’s an unlikely culture-clash romance in a blue collar city, where the social realist style is beautifully mixed with a steady stream of lyrical musical passages that express what they’re feeling underneath, with Barnard adding her own experimental stylistic flourishes that elevate what we’re seeing onscreen, yet what’s apparent is that the joy of music is an act of resistance, exquisitely shot on ‘Scope by Ole Bratt Birkeland, who also shot her first film.  It’s all about the power of healing, where there’s no right or wrong way, but you know it when you feel it, where there’s actually a laying-on-the-hands sequence, ALI & AVA Clip | TIFF 2021 YouTube (37 seconds), as a shared love of music allows them to heal and transform one another through ordinary acts of kindness.  Familiar Bradford locations include the massive Waterstones bookstore, Undercliffe Cemetery, Bradford Cathedral grounds, Cow and Calf rocks on the Ilkley Moor, and the Keighley and Worth Railway, yet it’s the inner journey that stands out, expressed through British rap, Skwolla | Lunar C YouTube (4:41), American electro-pop, Sylvan Esso - Radio (Music Video) YouTube (3:34), a raw and earthy bootleg Bob Dylan recording, Mama, You Been On My Mind (Studio Outtake - 1964) YouTube (2:55), which curiously has a crossover effect on both characters, and British pub music by Ewan MacColl expressed through a drunken mother and son duo, Ali & Ava - Official Clip #2 YouTube (53 seconds).  Yet what’s most remarkable, and may be the most impactive part of the film, is the final credits sequence, a gift that keeps giving, moving from the thumping EDM music, Daniel Avery - Drone Logic (Official Video) YouTube (5:15), to a heart-rending traditional Irish ballad from Karan Casey, Grace (From Ali & Ava) YouTube (5:29), a searing version of a social justice love song that has a similar effect as the cathartic final scene from John Huston’s The Dead (1987), finding that emotional core that leaves audiences utterly transfixed, having been thoroughly transformed by the experience. 

Stranger Things

STRANGER THINGS                B                  

Great Britain  USA  (77 mi)  2010  d:  Ron Eyal and Eleanor Burke  

Official site                  

This kind of social realist film may represent the future of independent cinema, as it has a small budget, a minimalist low-key approach, using a simple concept of boy meets girl, though meeting under unusual circumstances, and at 77 minutes couldn’t be more concisely told.  Written by a husband and wife collaboration where the husband also directs, while the wife shoots and co-edits the film, what’s particularly effective is this small, quiet work has the intimate feel of a personal investment, feelings that are transferred to the audience as well, where a bare bones script never over-explains, where so much is communicated wordlessly, leaving something to think about afterwards.  It would be such a pleasure if more films could set out to accomplish those few goals, where the focus is on writing and acting, developing character, without ever revealing too much.  Part of the beauty is how much remains a mystery, where one can ponder various possibilities of what might eventually happen in the end.  The oceanside location on the English Channel in East Sussex, England couldn’t be more picturesque, and if you don’t believe it, check this out:  1,280 × 857 pixels, where that endless stretch of green leads directly into the back yard of one of the lead characters, Oona (Bridget Collins), who arrives at her mother’s seaside cottage after her recent death.  While the home is in a state of disarray, it’s also evident that Oona hasn’t been there for awhile, tidying up the place and resuscitating memories while she quietly sifts her way through much of the memorabilia.  Looking as if she’s having a hard time of it, especially getting it ready for sale, a friendly neighbor insists that she spend the night, where she spends much of the time recalling moments with her mother, who was apparently as socially awkward as her daughter appears to be.  Oona tapes the conversations, adding it to her collection of recordings as an anthropologist, where she’s attempting to establish an identifying train of thought that defines and brings her closer to her mother.               

When she returns the next morning with a real estate agent, she’s alerted by strange sounds, grabbing a mop and smashing the face of an intruder, screaming at him to get out.  Mani (Adeel Akhtar) is homeless, seen earlier traveling with a sick, elderly companion known as Bagman (Keith Parry), who he apparently left alone on the beach while he sought shelter, finding what he thought was an abandoned home to spend the night.  After sorting things out and collecting her thoughts, she finds a sketchbook left behind, where Mani had been drawing things her mother made, as she was something of an eccentric artist herself.  Moved to remorse, she runs down the road to return it, where the two have an awkward meeting filled with hesitations, but she invites him to spend the night in a small shed in the garden that used to be her playroom, also bringing him blankets and cookies.  Not much is said, but it’s clear her intentions are friendly, as she often smiles nervously and tries to be a gracious host.  Mani, on the other hand, is Middle Eastern, dark-skinned, and probably hasn’t been treated kindly since he can remember, but he’s not one to turn down a generous offer.  In the morning, she gives him some money and some bread, and resumes her cleaning.  When he returns again that evening, she’s initially mortified, but he’s completely non-threatening, so this time she offers him a bath, recalling the grimy bathwater in GUMMO (1997), and they share a meal, but they learn little about one another.  At first Oona tries to interview him, like one of her anthropology projects, but he’s obviously disturbed by her questions, probing areas of his life he’d just as soon forget.  In fact, they each remain a mystery to one another throughout, and to the audience as well, where they are a college graduate and a homeless person, where we can only imagine their pasts.

While there is a level of aloofness on Oona’s part, where Mani continues to belong to some “other” category, where her well meaning efforts can appear patronizing, the larger issue seems to be her own insecurities and loneliness, where both appear to have problems connecting with other people.  Oona dreams of traveling the world and learning to appreciate “other” cultures, not realizing those mysteries exist all around her.  In fact, she seems to have had a fairly distant relationship with her own mother, none of which is ever explained.  It’s this unknown aura that draws us to each of them, as they are likely not the people they would wish to be, and they really don’t know how to change the circumstances that led them there.  It’s of particular interest that Oona fabricates reality to make the world easier to live in, lying about how close she was to her mother at the end, while Mani avoids reality altogether, so caught up in daily survival, which plays into the finale, which remains grim, but is perhaps overly hopeful.  Coming together by accident, they’re both completely unfamiliar how to get past this awkward stage, both products of difficult pasts, where bits of flashbacks reveal a few troubled moments, followed by tight close ups where they remain puzzled by the enormous distance between people.  Apparently the cast and crew lived in this house while they were shooting, perhaps adding an element of unvarnished truth to these unglamorous lives.  This is a quiet film, without a musical soundtrack, that never reveals its secrets, that instead forces the viewer to examine what societal walls are constructed to keep “others” out, where we routinely walk past people on the street every day, or avoid faces on the bus, without knowing the least bit about them, often making judgments about their unpleasantness.  It’s an impersonal world that makes even death feel like a stranger has passed, where we often have little to no connection with our own families.  This film also examines social class and the collective baggage we all carry, where more often it’s easier to simply look the other way, but this has accumulative effects, leaving us further isolated from ourselves and one another, even those we care about the most.