London Film Festival 2012: Kelly + Victor Review

rating: 3

Kieran Evans' adaptation of Niall Griffiths' novel of the same name is from its outset anything but a meet-cute. The titular protagonists (played by Antonia Campbell-Hughes and Julian Morris) meet while pilled-up at a Liverpool nightclub, Evans' beautifully-lensed visuals enhancing the dream-like emotional high of their meet, and their inevitable night of inebriated passion. The initial sex scene, like all throughout, is raw and visceral, lacking glamour, but providing piercing psychological insights into both characters; Kelly choosing to strangle Victor mid-coitus introduces the film's sadomasochistic central theme, making it clear that Kelly is beset by an ambiguous, slow-revealing past that might - or might not - explain her bizarre sexual proclivities. In the clear, albeit hungover light of the next day, the two still want each other, and so continue to meet up for sex, but find that something else blossoms also. What Evans arguably does best here is succinctly capture the ecstatic, addictive honeymoon period of any nascent romantic entanglement, be it a relationship or not. Specifically, the emotional intimacy that can spring from one special physical encounter is sharply observed, making it abundantly clear that this is no mere one-night stand. Victor is a romantic and a dreamer, whereas Kelly, seemingly weathered by her past, is far from it, yet it does little to stymie their inarguable infatuation with one other. The immaculate chemistry between the pair in the few scenes they share together cements a magnetic attraction, running the full spectrum of emotions, from the joy of exploring each other's minds and bodies, to the pain of separation, and everything in between. In a daring step, the titular characters only spend about three scenes together in the entirety of the film; away from each other, we observe Victor reluctantly being groomed to help run a drug deal, while Kelly sheepishly moonlights as a dominatrix. This does mean that those three scenes have to hit the ground running, which they mostly do, though one can't help but feel we should see more of them together. Instead, Evans opts for far too many padded scenes involving the leads staring contemplatively into the existential abyss, even if they are beautifully filmed and hauntingly scored at all times. Evans' countless visual and dramatic flourishes nevertheless mostly keep us compelled during the downtime; flashes of Victor imagining future dates with Kelly is, for example, incredibly simple but also quite moving. As to the psychological machinations of this enticing if alarming love affair, we're asked to draw our own conclusions from the evidence presented, reinforced by a cruelly ironic gut-punch of an ending that leaves us in a very devastating lurch indeed. The raw, sweet promise of the first act is ultimately up-ended by its turn towards grimness, but Kelly + Victor is a melancholic meditation on the most disturbing type of romantic irony.