The British film industry has found its latest trend: writer/directors named Charlotte whose debut features centre on father-daughter relationships and balance their deeper heartache with the wonder of childhood.
Charlotte Regan’s Scrapper follows 12-year-old Georgie (Lola Campbell) living alone on an east London estate following the death of her mum. She spends her days evading social workers, stealing bikes, and hanging out with her best pal, Ali (Alin Uzun). She is pretty content with this life until the arrival of her otherwise absent father, Jason (Harris Dickinson). Jason demands to be let into her home and her life, and the two must undertake a journey in which she decides whether or not to let him into her heart.
Where Aftersun opts for a gritty realism, Scrapper opts for a magical one, allowing itself to shift between tonal and visual styles with a confidence that makes it difficult to believe that Regan is yet to turn thirty. Credit for the execution of such styles must also go to cinematographer Molly Manning Walker and gaffer Bill Rae Smith, who balance natural light with flamboyant colours, turning Georgie’s estate into a beautiful backdrop in front of which the story unfolds.
That said, these tonal shifts are entirely dependent upon the two central performances from Campbell and Dickinson. Georgie’s grief, anger, humour, and cheeky-chap persona are deftly handled by Campbell, whose performance facilitates the film’s deviations into a more overt surrealism. Dickinson, meanwhile, is simply a magnetic screen presence. When the camera holds on his reactions to Georgie, you resist the urge to blink. To miss even a second of his screentime would be a tragedy, for it’s the warmth, kindness, and regret he exudes that makes the film’s conclusion believable. There is one particular scene which clearly takes inspiration from Wim Wenders’ Paris, Texas in which Jason entertains George while walking on opposite sides of the road that is particularly engrossing. Crucially, the chemistry between the two actors is electric, exemplified by a hilariously improvised conversation at a train station.
All of this isn’t to say that the film is without flaw. It takes some time to get the ball rolling with its tonal transitions which, in the first act of the film, are slightly jarring. Moreover, as much as the ending brings a smile from ear to ear, it doesn’t really interrogate Jason’s absence. Instead, it falls into the all-too-familiar trope of the easily forgiven faltering father.
Those nit-picks aside, Scrapper is a towering achievement. Regan’s direction has a real velocity – every whip-pan, explosion of colour, and sharp transition is earned. Despite the earlier comparison to Aftersun, Scrapper perhaps has more in common with Richard Ayoade’s Submarine. In fact, while watching the film, I was reminded of an interview with Ayoade conducted by Film4 in which he articulated his confusion at the distinction between the real and surreal in film:
“I always find it strange when people decide that something is a realistic or surreal film because to me the weirdest thing is that you show someone’s face in a close up and then cut to another person’s face instantaneously… all films are non-real spaces, because they are non-real time and non-real things, and they are primarily just stories.”
Regan clearly subscribes to the Ayoade school of thought, taking full advantage of the visual medium she is operating within. I am immensely excited to see what she does next.
“Harris Dickinson (cropped)” by Montclair Film Festival is licensed under CC BY 2.0.