Starred Up

Jail house Rock-hard

In contrast to the long, drawn out and often tedious opening credit rolls of many movies, the title sequence for 2014’s British prison drama Starred Up ; a black screen with only the most necessary acknowledgments appearing in simple white text for around thirty seconds,  is both appropriately and deceptively minimalist.
That there are no overly elaborate graphics or extraneous font decorations during these early moments is appropriate because this is a film which is, as a whole, straight and to the filed-toothbrush-point; even in its re-using of several well-worn prison movie genre threads.

Against the unfussiness of the production then, it comes as a bit of a surprise just how psychological Starred Up turns out to be, with the script proposing a deeper look at incarceration than your average slammer flick. It’s certainly commendable how director David Mackenzie (Hallam Foe) manages to not only graphically capture the shocking brutality of life inside the can from the inmates’ point of view, but also focus on the greyer areas of the prison experience; in particular the detrimental emotional effects that doing time has on people.

Taking place entirely within prison walls Starred Up is, perhaps not surprisingly, full of an oppressive and claustrophobic quality. The cinematography makes heavy use of close ups, amplifying the feeling of confined space, whilst the camera is regularly positioned with an over-the-shoulder view following prisoners shuffling through narrow corridors barred at both ends by heavily secured doors. Often it feels as if characters are moving through the narrow belly of a submarine as opposed to a huge, multi-acre complex.

Granting fly-on-the-wall access to an institution where all decency is routinely stamped out in a troublingly casual manner, Starred Up’s realism is stark and disturbing.  The social conventions of normal life are present, but in severely watered down forms and always playing second to the overruling forces of reputation and a warped sense of earned respect. As a result, violence, or the threat of violence coupled with underhanded deals maintain the hierarchical power structure within and between the cell blocks.

The fact that the plot involves nasty guards willing to dole out punishment on anyone who steps out of line, and a bent, slime ball superintendent (played ultra slippery by Sam Spruell) also in cahoots with those inmates sitting at the top of the food-chain is clichéd, but these standardised elements are depicted with an air of authenticity, making us believe that this could be, and probably is, what routinely occurs out of public sight and earshot within prisons all over the country.

Our conduit to this hellish microcosm is Jack O’Connell who is utterly believable in a fantastic turn as lead character Eric Love. To call Eric a troubled youth would be a slight understatement for a young man who has spent most of his days within the confines of reformatories to learn that sometimes, the last line of defence is in smothering one’s body in faeces and baby oil whilst wielding broken table legs to batter anything that comes close.

Eric is a thug with abundant sociopathic tendencies, but his ability to take care of himself is also perversely respectable and one of the reasons for him becoming, as defined by the abundant prison lingo, ‘starred up’, meaning he is on the ascendancy in terms of the respect/fear he commands from other inmates.

The felonious force is evidently strong within Eric’s family because his dad inhabits a cell one floor above him and operates from a position of influence as the lieutenant of the top dog; the very same position the young pretender Eric is threatening to take over. This abnormal situational dynamic adds further tension to Eric and his father’s already strained relationship as their familial and reputational responsibilities clash. It’s not long before all that pent up baggage between them comes bursting out its emotional holdings in the kind of way Jeremy Kyle has wet dreams about.

Even though this particular and slightly contrived sub-plot is used mostly as a device to enhance the dramatic bulk of the script, it is managed in an unhurried and believable way with the later scenes where the two men eventually obtain a level of reconciliation being especially powerful.

As usual Ben Mendelsohn is formidable as Love senior and the Auzzie actor has a good crack at the cockney accent, though unfortunately he never quite convinces as a hard bastard, just a bit of a pasty bastard. What he does do however is give his character enough of a veneer of vulnerability to elicit empathy from the viewer. As it turns out Eric and popsare capable of showing typical everyday human affection, it’s just for these guys, who have known how to do little else other than punch things and shout c@*t a lot, expressing dem feels can be difficult.

While it’s a lot for the script to ask for the viewer’s understanding, or even sympathy for such violent characters, as the film progresses we learn that Eric, like the vast majority of the men around him, is a severely emotionally damaged individual whose problems stem above all from a basic inability to control his feelings, particularly with regards to his rage. A glimmer of redemption is offered when Eric is given the chance to attend a self-help group, which he gladly does as a useful way to escape the heat of vengeful guards.

The help-group scenes include some of the stand out moments of the film, containing some sizzling dialogue and initially Eric and the other members of the five or six strong group can barely talk for a few seconds without screaming death threats or lobbing chairs at each other. After a few sessions however the men are able to hold conversations and get to understand one another. Eric begins to confide in his mentor Oliver, played by Rupert Friend, and an interesting mutuality emerges between them. It becomes clear that Eric offers Oliver a chance for his own salvation, just as much as he does for Eric.

The sad reality is that the prison is governed by people as ruthless as the shank happy inmates, which means the opportunities for Eric to progress are yanked away quicker than you can say ‘switch blade’ and things mostly revert back to square one.

For a film with little to no hope then, you are unlikely to walk out of the cinema full of over joyed emotion, but you are likely to be riveted and fully engaged. The way the film suggests that those in charge have a cause for deliberately corrupting the prison system in a way that cultivates criminality, is not a new concept. But the way in which the film invites the viewer, both subtly and explicitly, to constantly question and consider the value – even the whole idea- of the penal system altogether is what ultimately elevatesStarred Up above other efforts concerning the same subject.

So, if you prefer your films to have challenging subject matter, powerhouse performances and lots and lots of unwholesome dialogue you’d be a faacking maag to miss Starred Up. Go watch it you slags.