for this week's 'Tribune' (2/2) : new release AWAYDAYS [5/10]

for this week’s ‘Tribune’ (2/2) : new release AWAYDAYS [5/10]

Awaydays
UK 2009
Starring : Nicky Bell, Liam Boyle
Director : Pat Holden
——————————————————————————

"LIKE The Catcher in the Rye with Stanley knives" was one critic's irresistible description of Kevin Sampson's 1998 novel Awaydays – still generally regarded as probably the best novel written about football hooliganism, with the possible exception of John King's The Football Factory (1997). The latter formed the basis for a hit film-adaptation in 2004, but the progress of Awaydays from page to screen has proven slow and tortuous – not least because Tranmere Rovers FC, the team which the book's characters so passionately follow, reportedly refused to allow any mention of the club in Sampson's script.
   This gives an oddly evasive air to a movie which takes great pains to locate itself chronologically at the very end of the 1970s, an era evoked by a notably strong and eclectic period soundtrack – from Steeleye Span to the doomier stylings of Joy Division - expertly integrated with (feature-debutant) Curtis Lee Mitchell's moody cinematography.
   "Here are the young men — the world on their shoulders" drones Ian Curtis, as cocky, twentyish Carty (Bell) and Elvis (Boyle) traverse the Wirral's gloomy streets and Merseyside's atmospheric waterfronts. Elvis dreams of escape while listening to the latest new-wave singles in his bedsit – but he's also a fringe member of local mob 'The Pack.' Grieving after the death of his mother, the confused, creatively-inclined Carty seeks to lose himself in the gang's ultraviolence, seeing it as a remedy for his aching to belong. But we never really come to understand why Carty is so obsessed with terrace brutality – nor does his "bromantic" relationship with Elvis, the pivot on which the whole film turns, come into sufficient focus.
   Awaydays' swaggering ambition is evident: "Quadrophenia meets Control" is the aim, or perhaps "Trainspotting meets Stand By Me." A closer comparison is much-reviled Elijah Wood vehicle Green Street, at least in terms of the plausibility of its mild-mannered, fashion-obsessed protagonists so suddenly turning into bloodthirsty thugs. Worse, Sampson is bafflingly vague on even approaching the topical political issues or personalities of the day – while his third act sees style decisively overwhelm content as the plot lurches headlong into clumsy melodrama, including rape (and ensuing bloody revenge) murder and suicide. In footballing terms, Awaydays is, ironically, something of a Tranmere Rovers itself – achieving lukewarm, mid-league respectability, with only fleeting glimpses of premiership class here and there.

Neil Young
12th May, 2009, for the 21st May edition of…

a longer version of this review appears in the next edition of A Love Supreme magazine {see below}

AWAYDAYS : [5/10] : UK 2009 : Pat HOLDEN : 105m (BBFC) : seen 28th March, 2009 : Pictureville cinema, National Media Museum, Bradford (15th Bradford International Film Festival – closing night) : complimentary ticket

Bradford 2009 Jigsaw Lounge index-page

Awaydays
UK 2009
Starring : Nicky Bell, Liam Boyle
Director : Pat Holden
——————————————————————————

"LIKE The Catcher in the Rye with Stanley knives" was one critic's irresistible description of Kevin Sampson's 1998 novel Awaydays. It's still generally regarded as probably the best novel written about football hooliganism – a more crowded literary sub-genre than you'd think – with the possible exception of John King's The Football Factory (1997). The latter formed the basis for Nick Love's surprisingly successful film adaptation in 2004, but the progress of Awaydays from page to screen has proven a slow and tortuous one – not least because Tranmere Rovers FC, the team which the book's characters so passionately follow, reportedly refused to allow any mention of the club in Sampson's script.
   This gives an oddly evasive air to a movie which takes great pains to locate itself chronologically at the very end of the 1970s, an era evoked by a notably strong and eclectic period soundtrack – ranging from Steeleye Span's 'Gaudete' to the rather doomier stylings of Joy Division – which are, throughout, stylishly integrated with Curtes Lee Mitchell's impressively moody cinematography.
   "Here are the young men — the world on their shoulders" drones Ian Curtis, illustrated by the saunterings of cocky, twentyish best mates Carty (Nicky Bell) and Elvis (Liam Boyle) through the gloomy streets of the Wirral and along the atmospheric Merseyside waterfronts. Moody, artistically-inclined Elvis dreams of escape (to Berlin!) while listening to the latest new wave singles in his bohemian bedsit – but he's also a fringe member of The Pack, the local mob headed by sheepskin-coated thirtysomething family-man John (Stephen Graham).
   Grieving after the death of his mother – and nursing creative aspirations of his own – the confused Carty burns to lose himself in the gang's regular bouts of ultraviolence, seeing it as a remedy for his aching to belong ("more than you can ever imagine!" he exults, when asked if he'd like to run with the "naughty boys.") But we never really come to understand why Carty is so obsessed with terrace brutality – and newcomer Bell, with his angular, insectoid features, does little to make the lad sympathetic or even especially interesting.
   Nor does his relationship with Elvis, the pivot on which the whole film turns, come into proper focus. Homoerotic undercurrents are not-so-subtly hinted at (this "pair of weirdoes" are at one point described as "chutney ferrets") in what develops into an all-too-obviously doomed version of what Hollywood currently terms a "bromance."
   The swaggering ambition of Awaydays – which has played to some acclaim at prestigious European and North American festivals, including Rotterdam and Austin's SXSW – is evident throughout. Optimistically described in some quarters as "Quadrophenia meets Control" or "Trainspotting meets Stand By Me," the end result is actually rather closer to the much-reviled Elijah Wood vehicle Green Street (not as bad as its reputation, but still nothing special) at least in terms of the plausibility of its mild-mannered, fashion-obsessed protagonists so suddenly turning into bloodthirsty thugs.
   And the non-mention of Tranmere FC – which results in The Pack chanting the generic (and somewhat laughable) "We Are Evil" when arriving at their awayday destinations (all of which look like the same grimy underpass) – isn't the only naggingly distracting omission. The absence of any actual football action isn't a surprise – the point being that these lads aren't actually interested in the sport at all. But given their supposed obsession with certain labels, it's a notable departure from the novel that so few brands are ever actually mentioned or identified – again, perhaps for fear of legal action.
   More perplexing is the fact that the action unfolds in such an economically depressed, staunchly left-wing corner of the United Kingdom at a particularly tough and febrile cusp of recent history – but Sampson is bafflingly vague on even approaching the topical political issues or personalities of the day. Worse, the third act sees style overwhelm content as the plot lurches headlong into clumsy melodrama, including rape – and ensuing bloody revenge – murder and suicide, the latter complete with what is, given the circumstances and the time-period, a particularly daft nod to Greta Garbo's 1930s Anna Karenina. Or did they really still use steam-trains to get to those crucial away-games, back in the day?

Neil Young