Review by
Benjamin Poole
Directed by: Jamie Patterson
Starring: Tallulah Haddon, Sophie Reid, Sian Reese-Williams, Steve Oram, Xavien
Russell, Kirsty Dillon
Justine, Jamie Patterson (director) and Jeff Murphy’s
(screenwriter) grim-soap love story opens with a quote from Ovid advising
that, "Chance is always powerful. Let your hook be always cast; in the
pool where you least expect it, there will be a fish." I duly jotted down
this piscine themed maxim in my notes, to become increasingly nonplussed
while watching the film.
As we witness the dipsomaniac titular character (Tallulah Haddon -
magnetic) woozily lurch from one confrontation to the next in her home
town of Brighton, observing the twenty-something drink, shag, drink some
more, fall out with people, drink; there are no fish to be seen
whatsoever. Large bodies of water are involved: we open with Justine
passed out in a cold bath and then later, when she, and a ne’er-do-well
pal, sit on the beach getting pissed I got my hopes up for some ad hoc
angling, but we don’t even get an onscreen tiddler.
The thing is, throughout Justine the dictum has no
metaphorical resonance either. Assuming that what Ovid was on about was
the propensity for opportunity to present itself to those who look for it,
his Augustan wisdom is lost on Justine. As a character she is obstinate by
design and frustrating in presence, which is entirely true of alcoholics
in real life. Alcoholism is a disease which I would imagine creeps up on
you. Ever had a hangover? Then at least once you’ve drank more than you
can deal with, and the booze has got the better of you. Ever looked
forward to a glass of Friday wine, a blowout with your mates? Then you can
see the attraction. What is intriguing is that
Justine doesn’t allocate its protagonist’s condition to a
discernible reason, and, instead, characters continually point out how
Justine - clever, young, middle class - is self-destructive. After all,
she somehow hooks up with Rachel (Sophie Reid), who is warm,
intelligent and fit, and who wants to take the utterly useless Justine
away to live in BARCELONA with her! Yet, Justine is mystifyingly awful to
her. Ovid is misplaced, as throughout the film things just seem to happen
to Justine, rather than the character actively pursuing fish/goals.
The nonchalance and self-loathing with which Justine approaches her life
seems authentic to the alcoholic experience (afaik), a compulsive malaise
that dictates one’s ontology. However, this legitimacy does not
necessarily make for intriguing drama, and resultingly,
Justine is a bleak prospect, with the character's
inflexibility soon becoming tiresome to the viewer, unmooring her from any
sympathy or narrative impact.
Patterson and Murphy do pique interest when they touch upon the conceit
that Justine is a well to do kid slumming it: she has a safety net in the
form of a put-upon mum, whom she extorts for money, and at whom she
screamingly accuses of "not knowing who I am!!!" Suck it up, Justine.
Nobody really knows anyone, not really, surely you’re old enough to
understand that? Yet, everyone in the film, from mum, to Rachel, to the
kindly shop owner who Justine cheerfully rips off, offers her infinite and
inexplicable patience; the sort of unconditional latitude which only
middle-class tearaways seem to be afforded.
Angling for a plot development, towards the end of the film Justine gets
duffed up by some girls, for no other reason than the third act demands
some dramatic denouement. Framed as a ‘wake-up call’, the arbitrary nature
of the attack, which again depicts something just happening to the
character, has nothing to with Justine’s drinking and could have occurred
at any other point in the film. Coronation Street, with Peter’s ongoing battle with the bottle, handles this sort of
material in a more inclusive manner. When it comes to this sort of kitchen
sink drama about substance addiction and raw living, there are plenty more
fish in the sea.
Justine is on Curzon Home Cinema
from March 5th.
