Helmed by Bristol sound co-founder Geoff Barrow, this scabrous though slight debut feature turns a sceptical eye on 90s rave culture. Venal pillhead David (Marc Bessant) first robs an unconscious dealer, then in a later recollection tries to break into his own parents. In no time, he's overturned in the wreckage of his car in a forest – and subject to the wrathful eye of the Woodsman (Sleaford Mods frontman Jason Williamson). Refusing to extricate David, with impatience toward townies, he is broken Britain personified: “You’re one of those noisy cunts from up on the heath.”
Unsteady Opening and Darkly Funny Confrontation
The film begins uncertainly, spending too long on meticulously detailing David’s attempt to free himself from his seatbelt, while awkwardly transitioning into flashbacks of his normal activities. The bigger point – that the ecstasy generation were primarily out for themselves – is firmly made. But these vignettes are too thin to adequately prepare us for what to expect when the Poacher turns up, fuming after David kills his dog. Nevertheless, a grimly amusing duel unfolds – David eager to get away; the Poacher denying his container of scrumpy, intent on soaking him instead in embittered discourse. Williamson, exuding ponderous menace in the role, is evocative of Michael Smiley.
Stylish Imagery and Promo-Inspired Vibe
Just a single key story turn, but it leads to a hilariously staged chaotic run on the forest trails that dips close to rural terror. Director John Minton finally gets to go all in with his showy imagery: where he was focused intently doing impressionistic closeups of insects in the light in the opening part, he now lets rip with the full lysergic grand display, soundtracked to a wild organ version of Ravel’s Boléro. Game feels more like an extended promo than a complete narrative, but there’s enough strident imagery to suggest that Minton could follow Jonathan Glazer, Garth Jennings et al into making the leap from the Brit music promo scene.
Game is in UK and Irish theaters from November 17.
