Review: NEDS

rating: 3.5

A grim, yet thoughtful, socially conscious drama In speaking of his latest film, Peter Mullan says that it is "personal but not autobiographical". Personal, indeed, is Mullan's picture, for he himself was very much immersed in gang culture as a teen, and here his liberal expression of that time is weaved into a trenchant social drama about those very things that define us, whether we like them or not; class and place. In mid-1970s Glasgow, John McGill (Conor McCarron) is a happy-go-lucky, smart, affable kid about to go to secondary school, with plenty of promise ahead of him. However, his impeccable grades inexplicably mask torrid problems at home; his father (played by Mullan himself) is an abusive alcoholic, while his mother is scared and ineffectual, and his brother is constantly in trouble with the law. A product of working class aspirationalism, John nevertheless finds himself worn down by the "Neds" (non-educated delinquents) at school, eventually joining their caste after they learn who his brother is (apparently a delinquent of considerable notoriety), resolving that an "if you can't beat 'em, join 'em" mentality is better than nightly beatings. As his popularity with the group grows, however, his grades begin a sharp decline, and he starts to slip into the pattern of behaviour that just about everyone already expects from someone of his background. The crux is whether nature will dictate the course of John's life, or whether he can overcome seeming social immobility to realise his massive potential. Though scripted with considerable social consciousness, Mullan chooses to shoot the film more like a tense thriller, creating an atmosphere of isolation from the outset. As a Ned approaches a young John, we can barely understand a word he is saying (subtitles for the mangled Scottish would have been helpful), distinguishing these characters as sure "others", incapable of even communication in the same capacity as us. At home, meanwhile, John's sister has fled to a better life abroad, and with little to entertain him - for his mother won't allow him the TV on for electricity's sake - he goes out. From these early glimpses, we see that his lower class status begets a cyclical, seemingly inescapable path for him; he is poor, so he gets bored and goes out, where he gets into trouble. Violence is shown as thoroughly endemic to John's life, with the violence that occurs within the school system only further creating a coocoon of physical abuse. The only way to break this cycle, it seems, is to ascend to the school's top class, with the hope that a display of grand intellect will gravitate him towards the few helpful teachers at the school rather than his delinquent colleagues. Mullan depicts classes as like a social stratum of their own, where students get promoted and demoted between classes, and the stress of it seems to affect them as much as a job would an adult. Mullan is keen not only to observe behaviour within a particular class, but also between classes; we meet an evidently middle-class friend of John's, whose middle-minded, patronising mother does not approve of them being friends and promptly forbids her son from seeing John. It might be the film's most obvious beat, but it is effectively infuriating, just as Mullan clearly intends. This trajectory is furthered, in fact, by pointing the magnifying glass at the parents; Mullan mocks their hypocritical nature, keen to disparage disaffected youths while being totally unaware that their own child is little better. Meanwhile, the excruciating frustration and anger at seeing an enormously talented person flush his future down the toilet is reflected in the exasperation of John's teachers, who cannot reconcile the fact that John is squandering everything. As we see him becoming exactly what society expects of him, all we can do is sit back and hope for the best, though things only get uglier once a rival group of Neds show up. In many ways Neds follows the formula of a gangster film; the violent lifestyle he leads inevitably spills into his own home with disastrous results, as he struggles to keep everything from splitting at the seams. Furthermore, just as Henry Hill turns informant or Michael Corleone has Fredo killed, there comes by Neds' third act a moment of make-or-break desperation. The promise of that young boy can no longer be seen; shut out by his parents, friends, and the education system, there is little left for him anymore. Mullan's final question seems to be this; will the boy, after reflecting upon his violence, actually grab for a second chance or revert to the same thuggish antics? In the quest of this answer, steam does begin to run out, but the intense climactic scenes ramp up once again, encompasing a youth failing to come to terms with the dire circumstances of his life, and acting out accordingly (and violently). The finale, a sure nod to Scorsese's 'Taxi Driver', is without question melodramatic, but it works, and Mullan is smart enough not to close his subject off; many questions remain, and true to the nature of social mobility, little is ever solved quickly.