This is such a colorful, effervescent sparkler: a truly giddy cinematic romp.
Director Raine Allen-Miller’s accomplished feature debut, a 2023 Sundance crowd-pleaser, has been dubbed the next evolution of romantic comedies. The elements are classic, but Allen-Miller’s execution gets much of its razzle-dazzle from Victoria Boydell’s kinetic editing and cinematographer Olan Collardy’s dynamic camera placement and lens choices, which take maximum advantage of the vibrant South London settings.
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| Yas (Vivian Oparah) and Dom (David Jonsson) stumble their way into a relationship against all manner of colorful and playful South London locales. |
(A refreshing change, that, given the bloat that afflicted so many recent high-profile Hollywood entries.)
Dom (David Jonsson) and Yas (Vivian Oparah) meet cute under awkward circumstances: in a bank of unisex toilets at his friend’s art exhibition, where he’s sobbing noisily in one stall, reeling from a recent break-up. Embarrassment prompts a rapid return to composure, of sorts, and that might have been the end of it.
But Yas is buoyant, giddy and difficult to ignore; she also talks a mile a minute. Dom is transfixed: a moth hovering in her incandescent glow, and a spark ignites. They linger together long enough for him to pour out his troubles, because he’s that way: wearing his heart on his sleeve. Yas is a good listener.
But then he departs, reluctantly, for a final meeting with his ex, Gia (Karene Peter), to obtain closure of a sort. That’s a difficult proposition, given that she cheated with — and now is in a relationship with — his best friend, Eric (Benjamin Sarpong-Broni). It becomes clear, as this café encounter begins, that Gia is a self-centered bee-yatch who expects Dom to be comfortable with her version of their break-up.
Before Dom can humiliate himself further, by agreeing with this nonsense, Yas unexpectedly crashes the gathering. Pretending to be Dom’s new main squeeze, she turns things completely upside-down, with a breathtaking few minutes’ worth of snide comments, subtle put-downs, not-so-subtle digs and pointed accusations. Gia and Eric can’t quite fathom what has hit them (Sarpong-Broni is hilariously clueless).
We’re on the floor, laughing so hard that it hurts.
What follows borrows from the giddy, 24-hour “chat structure” of 1995’s Before Sunrise, as Dom and Yas navigate various parts of South London. But the atmosphere here is different than that of Richard Linklater’s earlier genre classic; Allen-Miller goes more for the magical intensity of succumbing to love, when every hour — every minute — seems timeless, and a single day feels like it’ll never end.
These two twentysomethings are captivating opposites. Yas is energetic, witty and unapologetically chaotic: a free spirit who seems unfazed by anything. Dom is quieter, hesitant, disinclined to be bold; he carefully chooses his words and actions. They initially re-visit their individually familiar, weird and wonderful South London haunts — The Horniman Gardens, Brixton, Peckham Rye — seeing them anew through each other’s eyes; we eagerly tag along for the ride.
Collardy favors a fish-eye lens, which rounds all sharp angles and corners: perfectly fitting the renewed manner in which Dom and Yas enjoy their surroundings.
This sight, sound and dialogue montage features an unexpected cameo by a high-profile British actor, under circumstances that include a droll inside joke.
The subsequent phase, in a nifty display of special-effects flashbacks, finds Dom and Yas observing and re-living each other’s ego-crushing moments. The takeaway — to Dom’s surprise — is that Yas isn’t quite as self-assured as she seems: a revelation highlighted by a theater filled with a couple hundred Doms, witnessing her discomfiture with a wide variety of reactions (both audacious and quite funny).
Although the story is punctuated by dozens of briefly glimpsed sidebar characters — given droll monikers such as “Hoverboard Guy,” “Peckham Cowboy,” “Popcorn Man” and “Restaurant Crooner” — Jonsson and Oparah pretty much carry this film by themselves.
They have no trouble doing so.
Their shared chemistry is palpable, their joyous enthusiasm granting both a warm glow (although that could be more of Collardy’s camera tricks). The experience is exhilarating, as if we’re just a few steps behind them at every moment, bathing in the radiance of their mutual discovery and sparkling banter.
(Be advised, though: You’ll likely need subtitles. Everybody’s South London accents are extremely thick. And — trust me — you don’t want to miss a single delicious word.)
The equally lively underscore and soundtrack come from London-based music producer, composer and artist Kwes, whose input deftly compliments the ups and downs of Dom and Yas’ courtship.
After the depressing slog through so many dreary Best Picture Oscar nominees, it’s refreshing to experience a film that understands the powerful joy of cinema.
I look forward to whatever Allen-Miller does next.
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