In 2006, director Shane Meadows made “This is England,” a vivid, visceral account of an outcast 12-year-old boy’s adoption into skinhead culture. Impeccably capturing the vibe of 1983 Britain, the film delved forthrightly into the tale of an impressionable lad caught between two splintering factions, one multi-racial and care-free, the other racist and virulent. Brimming with robust characters, “This is England” was a bold indictment of Thatcherite impulses and a conscientious examination into the susceptibility of a boy in search of nurturing. It was one of the best films released in the United States in 2007. In his latest film, “Somers Town,” Meadows has scaled back the fervency and the overt political overtones in crafting a piquant story smaller in scope and shorter in length (a mere 71 minutes long) about an unlikely pair of modern-day teenaged pals; it’s a gratifying collection of vignettes which could be subtitled “This is London.”
Tomo (Thomas Turgoose), a Nottingham adolescent running away from a troubled home life, arrives in the capital city. Wandering train platforms and bumming change, he quickly discovers that the biggest cities, surrounded by the most people, can be the loneliest places. His one bag of belongings is viciously nicked by a trio of youths; it is, thankfully, the lone depiction of violence from a director not shy of illustrating savagery, which was shown in spurts in “This is England,” but rendered unflinchingly in 2004’s mercilessly brutal revenge saga, “Dead Man’s Shoes.” In a café, after he’s been lent money for a fry up, Tomo insinuates himself onto the chair next to Marek (Piotr Jagiello), a quiet, introspective Polish teenager of 15ish who lives with his father in a modest flat in North London. A keen photographer, Marek snaps pictures of Maria (Elisa Lasowski), a comely waitress from Paris who, with her untamed long hair and friendly disposition, is the object of an indefatigable teenage crush for both boys.
Filmed in grainy black and white by Natasha Braier, “Somers Town” follows a narrative which is less intense than Meadows’ previous two projects. In a sequence which highlights the lighter tone, the boys steal a cinched bag of clothes from a laundromat after Tomo’s only outfit, a beloved tracksuit, is unintentionally ruined in the wash by Marek. The new, random outfit is genuinely preposterous. Marek is befriended by the good-hearted Graham (Perry Benson), a fellow building tenant with an overstuffed ground-floor storage locker, who helps him invaluably by switching out his Vodaphone-sponsored Manchester United shirt for an Arsenal kit – “Terry Henry 14.” The diligent Marek and the slothful Tomo, who is essentially a squatter in Marek’s bedroom, begin doing odd jobs for Graham, like renting deck chairs on a cloudy day. Meadows enhances his reputation with these scenes because he demonstrates a deft touch with a flurry of decidedly risible moments. With “Somers Town,” he exhibits a more reflective, less ardent aesthetic. The final, giddy sequence — stippled in color and open to interpretation — of this modest but plenteous movie is further evidence of Meadows’ adaptability.
The film’s revelation is the mesmerizing performance by Ireneusz Czop, in his first English-language film, as Marek’s father, Mariusz. A polish emigrant working on the Channel Tunnel rail link, the muscular Mariusz is ruggedly sexy, like a more ripped Sam Shepard. Czop embodies his character with a relaxed swagger as he casually instills in his son a vigorous work ethic. Mariusz possesses a quiet, self-assured mien as he enjoys a nightly lager or serves, on occasion, as a big brother to his brawny, drunken Polish buddies. Czop is understated during a touching scene earlier in the film where Mariusz and Marek sit at the dinner table and, between mouthfuls of food, hone their language skills by reciting a tabloid sex column; Mariusz joshingly cajoles his son to read the salacious copy out loud as they both break into nervous laughter. But a scene towards the end of the film underscores why Czop is lauded in Poland as an eminent Shakespearean actor. Drunk and silly, Marek and Tomo have trashed the meager apartment the father and son share. Mariusz returns to find the wreckage and assails them with a ferocious verbal outburst. The next morning, as the hungover Marek recovers on the couch, Mariusz sits on the adjoining settee. He begins to apologize for his tirade. A flux of emotion spills out. He is shamed, repentant, and speaks to his son honestly. He is sorry for a crumbling marriage he could not repair. Most of all, he is concerned for his son. It’s a powerful and heart-felt moment but controlled and unpretentious. And they are closer because of it.
