A Brixton Tale
A breathless drama set in South London that explores the relationship between filmmaker, Lia, and her shy subject, Benji.
Are they lovers from two very different sides of London, or is she exploiting him to get what she wants? A Brixton Tale, from directors Darragh Carrey and Bertrand Desrochers, explores love, class and privilege in South London through the lens of a blossoming relationship between two young adults. Lia (Lily Newmark) is a white filmmaker who specialises in voyeuristic footage captured with her handheld camera, trying to document something gritty and real on the streets of Brixton. Benji (Ola Orebiyi) is a shy, black teenager who lives on a housing estate and spends time smoking weed and playing the PlayStation. A ‘chance’ encounter leads to romance and Benji becomes the subject of Lia’s latest documentary film, which gains recognition in the South London artistic community. Is Lia’s newfound success as a filmmaker a convenient bonus of her new relationship, or is she manufacturing the situation to get the footage that brings her the acclaim that she craves?
Lia spends her time hanging around Brixton Road, discretely pointing her camera towards passers-by in the hope of capturing edgy, YouTube-worthy content. Her face is almost permanently affixed with a trance-like expression as she gazes through the viewfinder of her camera. Like so many of her generation, Lia strives to portray the ideal version of herself online, even taking a couple of attempts to capture a satisfactory level of enthusiasm when recording her message reminding viewers to ‘like and subscribe’ her new videos. During one of her covert video operations, Lia observes an altercation involving a few young men. From the perspective of Lia’s grainy footage, we see Benji stepping in as peacemaker and removing his friend Archie from the scene. This is Lia’s eureka moment – Benji and the gritty realism he represents is the muse that she has been waiting for. In an expertly executed play involving a pre-rolled joint and lack of lighter, Lia engineers a ‘chance’ encounter with Benji and Archie (Craige Middleburg), befriending the pair and quickly making moves on her new creative subject to start a romantic relationship.
Benji and Lia are from starkly different backgrounds, living in completely opposing environments. Benji, with a single mum and dodgy ‘badman’ cousin, lives in the reality that Lia wants to capture on camera – and that South London’s wider artistic community fetishize. We learn that Lia isn’t part of the world that she is trying to infiltrate – when away from Brixton Road, she is Aphelia, the pet daughter of upper middle-class parents living in a huge townhouse. Lia takes Benji to a Skins-esque flat party hosted by her friends, and the contrast with the earlier glimpses of Benji’s social life are laid bare – tracksuits are swapped for waxed Barbour jackets, weed is swapped for cocaine, rap and grime is swapped for Jamie xx, his song ‘Gosh’ soundtracking the party perfectly. Charlie (Barney Harris), one of Lia’s male friends of the white, middle-class variety, asks Benji ‘are you from here?’ with a heavy hint of suspicion. The irony is that Benji and his family have likely been in Brixton long before affordable rents and gentrification opened the door to the influx of white people, like Charlie, to flock from other parts of London. Benji should have as much right to screw his face up and ask the same question, but we know the implication of ‘from here’ is more than just a question of geographical location, it’s a sense of whether Benji belongs. An encounter with police officers illustrates Lia and Benji’s different experiences with the police – Lia is quick to challenge what the officers are saying while Benji instinctively looks to remove himself from the situation, knowing how quickly things can turn. Again, the film looks to portray how life in the same situations is different for people depending on their gender, their race, or their background.
Lia documents her experiences with Benji and presents the footage as a documentary to familiar face Jaime Winstone (Kidulthood), who encourages Lia to remove herself from the film and keep the focus on Benji – her theory essentially being that Lia’s white presence distracts from the gritty reality of Benji. Give the people what they want! Lia’s documentary is screened at an industrial-looking gallery, with observers from the art crowd sipping champagne as they watch Benji, projected on to an exposed brick wall. While acclaim is directed towards Lia for her gritty depiction of inner-city life, Benji wears a horrific expression as he comes to the realisation that the girl he cares about has exploited him.
A Brixton Tale’s third act deals with the fallout of the gallery screening and culminates with an incident where the outcome for both Lia and Benji is influenced by their background and heritage. Benji doesn’t have the support network that Lia does, and he isn’t given the same chance at redemption. Ultimately, Lia can retain control and decide how her life pans out – Benji isn’t afforded the same opportunity.
A Brixton Tale is at its best when focusing on the more mundane, authentic aspects of Benji and Lia’s burgeoning romance. Seeing this through the lens of Lia’s shaky VHS-style footage really does heighten the convincing feel that this is the real story of real people. We see shades of Kidulthood and Skins, without some of the more caricature-like elements that those pieces of work are associated with (maybe aside from Archie). At times, the film’s ambition to cover a lot of ground via different threads of the storyline can leave you feeling like things quickly arrive at a crescendo that has barely been developed – particularly the storyline involving Archie, Benji’s erratic friend, who descends into destructive behaviour. At 76 minutes, there is room to pad out this storyline if it is going to be included. Sometimes Lia’s 24/7 filming, and the acceptance of those around her to be filmed, feels a little contrived – would she really stand and film from 2 metres away while her boyfriend is being mugged? Are you really going to let her film you smashing lines of cocaine, knowing she’s shooting a documentary?
Charlie tells Benji that Lia ‘has two personalities’, implying a history of bipolar-like behaviour. To me, the idea of Lia’s split personalities or, more accurately, two lives – hanging around Brixton in an oversized parka, smoking weed when it suits, then returning to your townhouse and working at the dining table while classical musical plays from a nearby speaker – and Lia’s ability to choose when to inhibit each, is the crux of the film. Benji’s problem is that he doesn’t have that choice.