The coast of British Cornwall, these days. Stephen Ward is a hereditary fisherman who tries to survive in rapidly changing circumstances, as if not not noticing the changes and difficulties around him. The older brother, it seems, gave up, and temptations, as well as problems, every day more and more – and look, will give up nerves.
The captured cinematic conflict between the old and the new is placed by Mark Jenkin in the dotted contours of Shakespeare’s masterpiece about two equally respected families, and locations reminiscent of Pointe Court. At first, the confrontation is perceived in a purely social and class dimension – the traditional, even patriarchal way of fishing as a lifestyle does not fit into the scenery and realities of the new times. Oldschool faces an upgrade ("They Broke Mom's Buffet"), battered boots and a slick T-shirt contrast with a Nike sports car and ironed polo from Ralph Lauren, the romance of fishing everyday life confronts home comfort and chilled champagne in the fridge, Ward's masculine beard - a smoothly shaved chin of Tim Lee. Well, if not enough and that, look at the old Vauxhall near the rumbling Rover, it will be quite clear. In comparison of opposites, however, as well as in general with the arsenal of artistic means, the director is not petty.
The protagonist looks like an evolved “angry young man” of the British new wave of films Reish and Anderson – eyebrows frown, teeth gritted, he stubbornly swims against the current, not wanting to fit into new circumstances, choosing the path of a sullen, eternally dissatisfied marginal freak. But on closer examination, the reasons for the discord are deeper, rather existential – Ward not only does not want to integrate into the saturated new reality, and bend under the changing world, but, most importantly, wants to remain himself, not to lose the inner “I”, not to compromise moral principles, to preserve decades-old worldview foundations. Unconsciously, implicitly, like another Shakespearean hero, he, moreover, involuntarily tries to preserve the “fragmented connection of times” (read: the connection of generations). It's a little pretentious, but actually it is. And this is hard to win, almost impossible. Therefore, Stephen Ward is a character that has become a plot. And the lobster has nothing to do with it.
It is nice that, telling this story of self-preservation and identity, Jenkin periodically tries to make the viewer beautiful, well, at least in an original way, using an impressive list of optical and acoustic techniques. Old-fashioned screen 4:3, 16 mm. camera, killer Eisenstein montage, juggling a series of plans and a sharp change of scenes, flashforwards, Rapid, lo-fi a la light Guy Maddin – Jenkin does not prevent to demonstrate a range of talents, the benefit here he is simultaneously a director, writer, composer, operator and editor. And the suspense and intensity of the furious parallel editing in one of the episodes of gastronomic properties would be envied by Sergio Leone himself: at the same time, the promising Englishman does without pistols, chokers and Morricone, coping with his task only through spaghetti (not westerns!), sauce, cheese, wine and sad lobster. And even though it often looks naive and slightly showy, the director clearly pronounces each syllable, not allowing the recklessness of editing to desecrate the language of cinema and affect the completeness of thought. In addition, without these form-creating decorations, it would be a completely different, not so “fun” cinema – for example, some boring maestro Loach, whose alternation of frames with dead fish, torn tackles, billiard balls, clenched fists and dark ale in a backwater bar certainly would not look so fresh and menacingly dynamic.
7 out of 10