Tag Archives: Second feature

The Last Tree – Sundance Film Festival London Review

Writer-director Shola Amoo’s debut feature, A Moving Image, about the gentrification of Brixton, a neighbourhood of South West London predominantly occupied by Afro-Caribbean residents from the 1940s to the early 2010s, was a didactic and at times tedious work that straddled drama and documentary. It does not prepare you for his exceptional second feature, The Last Tree, in which Amoo redefines what we think of as a British film.

It tells the story of Femi (played as an eleven year old by Tai Golding and as a late teenager by Sam Adewunmi) who is reclaimed by his Nigerian birth mother (Gbemisola Ikumelo) and taken from rural Lincolnshire to inner city London. In his new home, where love isn’t demonstrated and his mother leaves him alone, Femi is expected to sweep the floor, keep his room tidy, feed himself and not watch television. In his new classroom, he is mocked for his name. Cut to several years later and he is sure of himself but drawn into unspecified criminal behaviour, which coincides with his disinterest with his exams. He is given a mobile phone by a criminal with the promise of an upgrade.

You might expect the story to be told in a social-realist way or else with an agenda. Not so. The stylised opening, set against golden wheat fields has Femi indulge in horseplay with white kids in an unproblematic manner. Each boy yells in sequence at the others whilst in a circle, the camera panning around them. In a second sequence, Femi breaks away from the group and yells alone. This prefigures the rupture to come.

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His middle-aged foster mother (Denise Black) doesn’t want to give him up. Femi does not want to leave. He is compelled to do so. The car journey to London in which the landscape changes from rural to urban, always out of focus, takes longer than you might ordinarily expect. Amoo does not obey the conventions of economical storytelling. He wants to give sequences a weight, as well as their own momentum. It is as if he wants you to forget about expectation, to break cinema’s shorthand of cause and effect and with it our understanding of Femi’s psyche, so that there is no clear cut way he will react. His destiny isn’t written by the things that happen to him.

The adjustment in the storytelling has the effect of challenging stereotypes. There are two sequences that exemplify this superbly.

First is a scene in which Femi is beaten up in the street and he lies off the curb in the road for the longest time, getting up slowly. In another movie, this would be the catalyst for a revenge attack, but the way Femi gets to his feet is considered. It is hard; Femi’s sense of hurt is conveyed. Yet the sequence stresses his endurance; he has taken the worst someone has thrown at him.

In a later sequence, in Lagos, Femi is in a front room and waits. In front of him is an ornamental elephant tusk. Behind him is a tall, ornate staircase. A maid asks him if he wants a drink. He refuses. She asks the question several different ways, but neither receives the acknowledgement nor gratification of receiving a request, as if he had rendered her purposeless. Femi then sits alone, waiting for the longest time before his mother reappears. Then he has cause to go into another room. Amoo makes the delay the point; what happens next is an anti-climax – one he has prepared us for.

With the un-naturalistic lighting and out-of-focus backgrounds (cinematography: Stil Williams) Amoo creates an atmosphere that is slightly dreamy. We are not entirely sure when the film is set – the mobile phone suggests the last decade. Femi is at odds with both his mother and his teacher (Nicholas Pinnock) but becomes protective of a girl in class who is mocked for her blue braids and called either ‘Blix’ (slang for a gun) or ‘blick’ (slang for smoking pot) – I’m not sure of the meaning; I may need that 2008 video by Dizzee Rascal to help me. Amoo isn’t interested is establishing a relationship between them, rather to show Femi’s changing state of mind.

The film does not pit two cultures – Nigerian and British – against one another. Femi questions his foster mother’s motives and receives an explanation that he sort of accepts. He isn’t defined by ‘street music’ either. Femi finds that he likes the synthesized sound of New Order, perhaps because he is culturally synthesized himself.

The Last Tree is a vividly alive film that pulls you away from a ‘reading’. It is not a film that anchors itself to a value system. Femi is no more defined by his Nigerian heritage than by his English upbringing. The film makes a really compelling case for making us rethink identity and for appreciating people in the here and now, not as individuals severed from an authentic, defining culture but as adaptable people who can, as Amoo does in a compelling manner, create something new. It also makes The Last Tree one of the most important British films of the year.


The Last Tree screens at PictureHouse Central, Piccadilly, Central London, on 1 and 2 June and is on general release in September 2019.

The Rider – Review

So many films claim to offer an immersive experience.  The Rider achieves this without so much as a 3D gimmick. Director Chloé Zhao’s film tells the story of a Dakota based horse trainer and rodeo rider, Brady Blackburn (real life horse trainer Brady Jandreau) who is recovering from a severe head injury. He desperately wants to get on a horse again, but everyone around him says ‘no’.

We know how the Hollywood version of this story would go, but Zhao tears up the script. Her film is a true blend of documentary – real people playing versions of themselves – and drama.

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From the very first scene, in which Brady changes his head dressing, we are drawn in, not least because the stitches he is showing us are real. Brady’s use of cling film to redress the wound tells us a lot about him and his world. There isn’t a whole lot of money for medical bills; we discover Brady discharged himself against medical advice. He doesn’t have money for expensive dressings, hence the cling film.

Although no one says it, Brady experienced a lucky escape. Not so his best friend and role model, Lane Scott, who is permanently hospitalised and cannot speak; he expresses himself with a few gestures that Brady (when he visits him) has learned to read.

Zhao captures that aching need to do the thing that you love even though it isn’t in your best interest. The push-pull factor is great, not least because Brady’s father (Tim Jandreau, playing a fictionalised father figure) gambles the little money they have on slot machines – rent is way overdue – and Brady’s younger sister, Lilly (Lilly Jandreau) has autism and acts, though adult, like a little girl.

Brady takes a job in a supermarket and we see that it feels like degradation. Zhao shows him interacting with customers – including a young boy who wants a selfie – as well as sharpening knives and hosing down surfaces.

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When he gets the opportunity to break a horse, the film rears into real time tension. We have no idea of what will happen in the pen, Zhao removing the safety net of staging: Brady is doing this for real.

There are poignant scenes such as Brady taking his saddle to a pawn shop and teaching a younger man how to ride a bucking bronco. As in a sports movie, the drama points in one direction, though how it gets there is painful and unexpected.

The South Dakota setting offers a casually beautiful backdrop. This is a film that you experience from moment to moment in real time, as if it were a documentary. Being a drama, it has one clunky scene, with Brady’s friends watching videos of Lane and talking about him, but this is a minor fault. For the entire film, you are with Brady, experiencing his journey. It is one that I cannot praise highly enough.


The Rider is out 14th September