Submarine is IT Crowds Richard Ayoade's début film about a rather disillusioned youth growing up in South Wales. Oliver Tate has all the issues a normal adolescent has, he has parents which seem to be from another planet, he fancies the girl sitting next to him in class and he is mildly unpopular. Be assured though, no one's got whitened teeth, there are no cheerleaders and most importantly, there is no adolescent twats singing while hopping around to a soundtrack which to the over 15-year-old-ear sounds like long fingernails being drawn over a blackboard. As a matter of fact, the soundtrack, mostly written and performed by Arctic Monkey's front man Alex Turner is understated, underlining a mood rather than trying to upstage the film. As such it perfectly matches the nostalgically tainted visuals.
Ayoade's images are stylish to say the least, in fact one gets the impression that he had NME peeping over his shoulder for the duration of the shoot. In fact, the film clearly targets an audience which grew up in the 1980's, cleverly leaving out all the embarrassing fashion mistakes we made back then, while highlighting everything that is back in fashion just now, inspired by the 80's. This is post-modern nostalgia at its best. This might sound like a criticism, but in fact, it is a lot of fun, as we can look back and chuckle, wrapping ourselves in the warm knowledge, that back then, we were different youths, without technological gadgets, still making mix-tapes while thinking thoughts that neither involved vampires nor wolves, nor any hard made decisions between the two. Even though the truth was that we all wore leggings, braces and wanted to either marry Andrew McCarthy or become the new Suzie Quatro. I have to say I like Ayoade's version better.
Oliver Tate is a self-centred, cynical, slightly morbid, but refreshingly naïve character whose best moments come from his overblown imagination, in for example, him fantasizing about his funeral and the suffering inflicted on his whole town by his death. His love interest could be taken straight from Don't Look Now with her red coat, her pyromaniac tendencies and her slightly sinister views on life. Submarine is most of all a character driven film, the performances are superb without exception, the dialogues, if a bit stagy at times, are witty, clever, funny and eloquent. The film is moving without ever descending into sentimentality, which is why one asks oneself, why Ayoade felt the need for freeze frames, direct written definitions on screen and several other supposedly quirky techniques, the film frankly does first of all not need and secondly makes it feel slightly pretentious with its obvious heavy nods towards the French New Wave. The last scene on the beach is taken almost straight from The 400 Blows, personally I couldn't concentrate on the action on screen as I kept waiting on Oliver to face us in a moment of self-reflexive irony. Don't worry, this never happens.
All of these techniques, filmic references and overly stylised iconography are enjoyable, they are well mastered, even though they sometimes feel like an exercise in indie film-making. All in all, Submarine is a hugely enjoyable coming of age story, if it's not quite got he making of a classic, it is nevertheless a very impressive first feature and proves that Richard Ayoade has firmly set foot on the British cinema scene. Everyone who makes the character of a mother admit a hand job to the weird neighbour with a mullet deserves no less.
Ayoade's images are stylish to say the least, in fact one gets the impression that he had NME peeping over his shoulder for the duration of the shoot. In fact, the film clearly targets an audience which grew up in the 1980's, cleverly leaving out all the embarrassing fashion mistakes we made back then, while highlighting everything that is back in fashion just now, inspired by the 80's. This is post-modern nostalgia at its best. This might sound like a criticism, but in fact, it is a lot of fun, as we can look back and chuckle, wrapping ourselves in the warm knowledge, that back then, we were different youths, without technological gadgets, still making mix-tapes while thinking thoughts that neither involved vampires nor wolves, nor any hard made decisions between the two. Even though the truth was that we all wore leggings, braces and wanted to either marry Andrew McCarthy or become the new Suzie Quatro. I have to say I like Ayoade's version better.
Oliver Tate is a self-centred, cynical, slightly morbid, but refreshingly naïve character whose best moments come from his overblown imagination, in for example, him fantasizing about his funeral and the suffering inflicted on his whole town by his death. His love interest could be taken straight from Don't Look Now with her red coat, her pyromaniac tendencies and her slightly sinister views on life. Submarine is most of all a character driven film, the performances are superb without exception, the dialogues, if a bit stagy at times, are witty, clever, funny and eloquent. The film is moving without ever descending into sentimentality, which is why one asks oneself, why Ayoade felt the need for freeze frames, direct written definitions on screen and several other supposedly quirky techniques, the film frankly does first of all not need and secondly makes it feel slightly pretentious with its obvious heavy nods towards the French New Wave. The last scene on the beach is taken almost straight from The 400 Blows, personally I couldn't concentrate on the action on screen as I kept waiting on Oliver to face us in a moment of self-reflexive irony. Don't worry, this never happens.
All of these techniques, filmic references and overly stylised iconography are enjoyable, they are well mastered, even though they sometimes feel like an exercise in indie film-making. All in all, Submarine is a hugely enjoyable coming of age story, if it's not quite got he making of a classic, it is nevertheless a very impressive first feature and proves that Richard Ayoade has firmly set foot on the British cinema scene. Everyone who makes the character of a mother admit a hand job to the weird neighbour with a mullet deserves no less.
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