Rating: 5 out of 5
NOW here’s a gem worth raving about! Aimee Lee Wood co-created Film Club (with Ralph Davis) as a smart comedy-drama that is as inventive as it is intimate; and as amusing as it is bittersweet.
Wood co-stars alongside Nabhaan Rizwan as Evie and Noa, best friends since university, when they started a weekly film club that has endured ever since.
The current venue for the screenings, though, is Evie’s mum’s garage because Evie hasn’t been able to leave the house since her ‘wobble’ six months ago, which has left her suffering from agoraphobia.
With the help of her mother, Suz (Suranne Jones), sister Izzie (Liv Hill) and boyfriend Josh (Adam Long), now virtually part of the live-in family, Evie attempts to rebuild her life, only to be confronted with the news that Noa is moving away to pursue a career opportunity as a lawyer.
But given the deep feelings that both Evie and Noa have for each other, the question becomes whether either will be bold enough to realise them.
Taken at face value, Film Club exists as a kind of will they/won’t they romantic comedy that pays knowing homage to several genre classics. But there’s so much more going on.
The film clubs themselves are also fun as Evie and Noa recreate scenes and outfits from the movies they’re revisiting, beginning with Alien and including the likes of The Wizard of Oz and Bridesmaids. There’s great fun to be had in spotting the in-jokes and references, as well as the numerous other nods to other films that the two leads drop into conversations or by way of impressions (Rizwan’s take on Jeff Goldblum in The Fly is particularly memorable).
But the biggest takeaway is how Wood and Davis deal with mental health, which is realistic, highly relatable to anyone dealing with it and disarmingly honest.
Evie may be confined to her mum’s home because of her new agoraphobia but there’s a sense of something else underpinning the meltdown that triggered it. The autistic and ADHD community - of which Wood is a part of in real life - will identify with the feelings of displacement, of being an outsider and of overwhelm that are depicted here.
There’s no embellishment, no contrived manipulation, no cheap sentiment. The struggles and challenges are believable and convincingly portrayed. They’re treated with sympathy by all concerned, as well as frustration.
Evie’s mum, for instance, is in a heightened state of worry: struggling in her own life but also to be a mother to two very different daughters. She’s caring but frets about over-stepping. And yet Jones still manages to combine this anxiety with a near-perfect sense of comic timing.
Wood, on the other hand, conveys her experiences with similar perfection; there’s equal parts pain, hope, confusion, happiness, sorrow and determination. It’s the type of performance that feels born from lived experience - and it’s little wonder she’s been showered with praise from members of the ND community, who see themselves in her.
What also works so well are the central relationships she forms. Her central dynamic with Noa is terrific - filled with unspoken longing, yet a mutual respect that feels genuine and life-affirming for both of them… they’re love of movies and the way it informs their dialect playing like a celebration of both of their special interests.
Rizwan is great too, his quiet but dependable Noa similarly endearing and equally root-worthy.
But all across the show there are brilliant performances, including Hill as Evie’s sister and Adolescence’s Owen Cooper, as a neighbourhood kid, whose outwardly brash, dismissive/cheeky exterior eventually gives rise to another tormented soul. The resolution of this friendship is also brilliantly realised: equal parts empowering and emotional, and something likely to resonate with many SEND parents who find their children unable to attend school.
With so many weighty issues, it’s another wonder that Film Club never feels overdone or heavy. Rather, it’s got a refreshing vibe: a coolness that stands as a shining example of how you can tackle important issues with heart, compassion and humour.
It’s a tour-de-force that I didn’t want to end. Even the final scene is perfect.
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