Helmed by Portishead co-founder Geoff Barrow, this scabrous if slight debut feature turns a sceptical eye on 90s rave culture. Self-serving pillhead David (Marc Bessant) initially steals from an unconscious dealer, then in a later recollection tries to break into his own parents. In no time, he's upside down in the wreckage of his car in a forest – and subject to the wrathful eye of the Woodsman (vocalist Jason Williamson). Refusing to extricate David, with no time for townies, he is broken Britain embodied: “You’re one of those noisy cunts from up on the heath.”
A Shaky Start and Darkly Funny Duel
Game gets off to a shaky start, spending too long on meticulously detailing David’s attempt to free himself from his seatbelt, while awkwardly transitioning into past scenes of his everyday life. The central theme – that the rave-era youth were primarily out for themselves – is firmly made. But these brief episodes are too thin to adequately prepare us for what to expect when the Woodsman turns up, enraged after David strangles his dog. Nevertheless, a darkly funny standoff takes hold – David desperate to escape; the Poacher withholding his jerrycan of cider, determined to dousing him instead in resentful talk. Williamson, projecting heavy threat in the role, is reminiscent of Michael Smiley.
Visual Flair and Music Video Vibe
There is only one important plot development, but it results in a comically executed chaotic run on the forest trails that veers toward folk horror. Filmmaker John Minton finally gets to go all in with his showy imagery: where he was focused intently doing artful shots of bugs in headlights in the early stages, he now goes all out with the full psychedelic grand display, accompanied by 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 emulate Jonathan Glazer, Garth Jennings et al into making the leap from the Brit music promo scene.
The film is in UK and Irish theaters from November 17.
