SELFISH GIANT by Clio Barnard

There is a reason why Clio Barnard refers to the famous Oscar Wilde fable in its title. Apart from its structural core and various story references, it also points out to Barnard’s desire to represent children in a more realistic and compelling way. In the presentation of the film at the Venice Film Festival, she spoke about one of her starting point for the making of this film being a sudden inspiration she experienced while watching films like The Kid with a Bike by the Dardenne brothers and Kes by Ken Loach. She was then convinced that children could watch films that were a little more challenging and more rewarding than the usual stuff they seem to be force-fed by society. Indeed, it is a little frustrating to notice that most films about children, or at least the ones that are pushed so aggressively by marketing, hardly seem neither compelling nor representational.

The Selfish Giant is about two marginalised young teens Arbor (Conner Chapman) and Swifty (Shaun Thomas), both from the more impoverished tough estates of Bradford. Both have a reputation as troublemakers and after getting into trouble one time too many, they find themselves excluded from school. This leads them almost methodically into the dangerous world of metal scrappage, working for an scrapyard owner and exploiter who calls himself Kitten (Sean Gilder).

Barnard’s first narrative feature film, is a representation of a darker side of adolescence, yet it is as much to the eyes of the world a representation of a darker side of Britain far from the glamour of Royal Weddings and bohemian lifestyles. By showing such a harrowing cultural context she follows up in the tradition of the gritty Ken Loach dramas and of course especially draws parallels with the classic Kes. Both of these films also denounced the dangers of a strict and negligent education system. Furthermore, the two films are born out of a harsh, unsympathetic and cold-hearted world. It is the kind of setting where children have no choice but to grow up fast, or start idolising the wrong people. This particular point is illustrated by the ambivalence of the character of Kitten, who is undoubtedly exploitative and yet is treated with Machiavellian respect by the youngsters who steal cable for him from railway lines and electric stations.

To bring the story on the big screen, Barnard makes little use of technical embellishments. She employs a realist style which makes use of a lot of handheld shots and heightens the power of its story. Even the characters communicate in a Bradford slang that is sometimes indecipherable but adds to the genuineness of the experience. All these artistic choices give the film a sense of meaningful immediacy that a documentary might have and of course were influenced by the director’s own background in documentary.

Yet, the relatively simple structure of the film makes it quite accessible on a narrative scale. Hence, we may even draw parallels with the Italian neo realists and a type of dramatic beauty portrayed in the classics by Vittorio de Sica like Shoeshine and The Bicycle Thief. The parallel makes even more sense when we take note of the warmth and humanity revealed by the friendship between Arbor and Swifty. Clio Barnard even went so far as to describe their relationship as ‘platonic love’.

The loyalty they have for each other is truly touching. At the start of the film we see Arbor, the angry and aggressive one of the duo, having a nervous breakdown. The only one able to comfort him is the calmer Swifty who holds his hand and eventually calms him down. Arbor on the other hand sticks up for Swifty, who is a regular target for schoolyard bullies. It is on one of these instances, in fact, that the two are excluded from school.

Physically, Arbor being skinny and Swifty being more rotund, they are reminiscent of Laurel and Hardy. The classic slapstick duo too almost always found themselves in similar degrading situations, they too having been somewhat marginalised by a post American Great Depression society. Both Conner Chapman and Shaun Thomas had never acted before, which makes their hard-hitting yet sensible performances all the more impressive. However, it is hard to say whether a child actor with experience would have been able to deliver the kind of performance that would contribute to the vision of Clio Barnard.

This film, as the title implies, is a fable – but not quite the kind of sweet natured fable we are used to. The Selfish Giant is a story of the depraved and the unglamorous. The people society, and even cinema, often forgets about. It’s a haunting bleak vision of the world which will no doubt have an influence on the way certain subjects will be tackled in cinema in the future. As well as that, despite its clear geographic setting, it has a captivating universal feel. It is also for this reason that this film, which affirms Clio Barnard as one of Britain’s most talented new cineastes, was also picked as one of the finalists for this edition of the Lux Prize. 

- Matt Micucci