Peaking early can be a terrible curse.
Back in the early uh-ohs, Vince lived large as the front man of an über-famous teenage boy band, Stereo Dream.
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| Vince (Ed Skrein, left) handles the melody on his portable keyboard, while Stevie (Leo Long) joyfully maintains a steady beat on a "drum set" made of found objects. |
Flash-forward to today, which finds Vince (Ed Skrein) scrambling for a living in the streets of Peckham, dragging his music kit behind him on a modified ironing board (a suitably pathetic visual touch). And to rub salt in the wound, former band mate Austin (Eoin Macken) did have the artistic chops for a wildly successful solo career: a constant reminder of the life Vince desperately wishes he could have.
Then, one day, Vince’s busking efforts are interrupted — nay, complemented — by a shy young man beating his drumsticks in time to the music. Vince soon learns that this is Stevie (Leo Long), a mildly autistic lad carefully monitored by his protective mother, Amber (Eleanor Matsuura).
Vince immediately (rashly?) believes that Stevie might be the “secret sauce” that could turn them into a successful two-man act. Amber, mindful of her son’s inability to handle being the center of attention, has her doubts.
Matters aren’t helped by the fact that the disheveled Vince has the diplomatic subtlety of a bull in a china shop.
Director/co-writer Eddie Sternberg’s sweet little film, expanded from his 17-minute 2015 short subject of the same title, offers no surprises; the story, co-written with Zak Klein, is fairly predictable (albeit with a poignant third-act twist).
That said, the tone and approach are as earnest as all three lead actors; it’s also nice to see a story that depicts autism with respect and compassion. Credit for this, in great part, goes to Long: neurodivergent in real life, and both an accomplished drummer and quietly persuasive actor.
The drama emerges from the credibly endearing manner in which both Vince and Stevie struggle to become better versions of themselves.
