Bryn Higgins 2014 UK
Starring: Agyness Deyn, Lenora Crichlow, Paul Anderson, Christian Cooke, Tom Georgeson, Ben Batt, Saffron Coomber
Models, singers and celebrities crossing over into acting is nothing new although in some of the resulting works the word 'acting' may be a little strong. An understandable if frustrating production choice, it's just another of those annoyingly regular things Hollywood and often cinema as a whole does that you accept even when they make you want to kick those responsible in the gentle area. Sometimes the talent of others in the cast or crew will be enough to conceal any sub-par performance, on other occasions such as Jack Cardiff's abominable The Girl On A Motorcycle, which featured Marianne Faithfull, her arse, an apparently sedated Alain Delon (a dilemma as his bit-on-the-side was meant to be powerfully alluring) and little else, everything will be so awful you'll hardly notice them anyway. If I sound cynical I really don't mean to be (I do) but I never thought I'd be saying that a famous non-professional would be the best thing about any film. In the case of Bryn Higgins' Electricity though it has happened with Agyness Deyn (who has done a couple of supporting roles before but never something of this magnitude) natural and beautifully understated as epileptic Lily. It's lucky really because Higgins himself is either overexcited, undisciplined or simply batshit crazy. As the film starts he shows images of splayed Barbie dolls in a black vacuum before jumping between grimy realism and impressionistic flashbacks, dropping in and out of focus, cutting fast and alternating between music and a voiceover that spouts clichés about Alice In Wonderland. Perhaps it's a deliberate move to help the audience see the world as Lily does during, and in the aftermath of, a fit, to experience the electricity she speaks of. Unfortunately what he hasn't realised is that he has neither the budget or the ability to pull it off with any gusto and, as a result, his approach comes across as uneven and unlikely to inspire much other than apathy or frustration. He's also so enamoured with his main star that not one of the minor characters matter in the least. We find out nothing about Lenora Crichlow's lonely, largely dull Good Samaritan Mel, other than that she's apparently well off enough to have a nicely-furnished house that she can refurnish at a moment's notice when it gets unexpectedly ransacked by an angry shitehawk, and are never given any real reason for her saintly generosity to a perfect stranger. When their friendship starts she seems to pity Lily and helps her out because of a natural sympathy but friendly compassion can only go so far and she has plenty of occasions to get rid of the mostly selfish girl she's been saddled with. At one point the fact that she's a lesbian freshly out of a long-term relationship is dropped into the script but the idea that her kindness has a basis in sexual attraction is unlikely as when she first meets Lily she's semi-conscious with blood coming out of her mouth, unless that's what she's into of course which would be fair enough but uncommonly broad-minded for such a basic British drama. If this is the case though any hopes she may have are swiftly and pretty offensively dashed. At least when Lily lets a homeless woman stay in her hotel room early on the script has established that, as a Northerner inexperienced in the ways of the big city, she doesn't view London as the hellmouth Higgins apparently does so it's credible if otherwise out-of-character. Likewise the only noticeable trait Lily's boss and benefactor (he's never allowed the mantle of being her friend) Al has is his penchant for dressing like the saddest cowboy in Blackpool and he only seems to exist in terms of his relation to her. The only person who gets anything more is Barry aka Slick O'Connor, a professional poker player (at least that's what the tattoos of spades on his knuckles claim). Played at times surprisingly badly by Paul Anderson he puts his foot up on windowpanes mid-conversation, growls a lot and appears to be auditioning to be a nightclub owner in Hollyoaks. The rest of the narrative is disappointing too - Lily is looking for the brother who, after being imprisoned for protecting her as a teenager, has more or less disappeared into drug abuse and bad snake tattoos. Some have called it 'grief-porn' (I'd go more for monotonous) yet there are rare moments of quality, an intense scene when, asked to identify the body of the worthless, rightfully estranged mother whose appearance she can't really remember, Lily slaps the corpse's face several times and another where she silently surveys the litany of bruises that mottle her legs the day after a fit are quietly powerful. Another featuring a bird being born from Lily's mouth is close to body horror and, while ill-fitting, is more affecting than anything that surrounds it. To say Deyn deserves more is an awfully trite statement but she could do far better and, with her stardom and connections, she probably should be too.
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