London Film Festival 2012: Spike Island Review

rating: 2

Charming scallywags and great music can often mean a great night at the cinema, but the second narrative feature from Mat Whitecross (Sex & Drugs & Rock & Roll) feels undernourished and overly indebted to the subjects of its inspiration; The Stone Roses. In Manchester in the Summer of 1990, four schoolmates, affectionately referred to as Tits, Dodge, Zippy and Little Gaz, are endlessly devoted to the Roses, and have become obsessed with obtaining tickets to their huge gig in the Mersey Estuary at Spike Island. Hoping that they can get a demo tape of their four-piece outfit, Shadow Caster, into the hands of Roses' frontman Ian Brown, while weathering the usual teenage quandaries, Spike Island is a mixture of Stone Roses fandom and coming-of-age tropes. The fawning, however, is so strong in this one that even hardcore Roses fans will struggle with it; its joviality feels so artificial, and the unbearable faux-cool tells us we should be having a good time rather than actually charming and entertaining us. There appears to be the hope that tired use of a snorricam and sloppily frantic editing might keep our energy levels up throughout. Moreover, maudlin family drama is crowbarred in at ever corner; dying fathers, kids being shipped off to the army, and domestic abuse are the order of the day. There's just not enough dramatic or comic substance here to sustain the runtime; drama aside, the road trip itself is filled with too many daft and formulaic obstacles. Other than Leslie Manville proving her worth despite not having a lot to work with, and the good chemistry between Tits and Emilia Clarke's love interest character, there's not too much to glean from it performance-wise, either. The most enjoyable moments, unsurprisingly, are those which use Stone Roses songs; a spry opening set to "She Bangs the Drums", and clever use of "Fools Gold" which mimics their iconic video. Yet ironically, when it comes for the gig, it all feels horribly inauthentic, cheaply cutting between a ropey CGI stadium and close-ups of Ian Brown singing on a stage somewhere. Use of "I Am The Resurrection" during the romantic climax is nice, but were it not for the Roses licensing their music, this would likely be a risible dud rather than a scarcely tolerable one. When reaching for its grand emotional payoffs, Spike Island well and truly flops on its face; who goes to a Stone Roses gig rather than stay with their father, who has mere days to live? And right at its conclusion, the various coming-of-age beats are smattered together in a messy, rushed finale. Unfortunately, great music can only distract us so much in this disappointing feature from the talented Mat Whitecross. Spike Island is released in the UK at an undisclosed date next year.