Review by
Benjamin Poole
Directed by: Abid Khan
Starring: Antonio Aakeel, Quintessa Swindell, Óscar Casas, Virgile Bramly, Tábata Cerezo, Laura Frederico,
Alice Sanders
Of all the conversations to be trapped in, a person bemoaning the end of
their relationship is up there with someone boring on to you about their
holiday. I mean, what are you meant to say? Having not been in situ, there
is nothing meaningful you can possibly add and so instead end up only half
listening as the tediously subjective coals are raked over and over,
perhaps throwing in a sad nod or raised eyebrow every so often depending
on context. I wonder which, though, is the most tedious of these
conversational sufferances? As if in answer to this existential query,
cinematic sadist Abid Khan has united both propositions in his
debut feature Granada Nights, which centres on millennial Londoner Ben (Antonio Aakeel)
travelling to Spain in order to rekindle his relationship with Helen, an
English woman studying at the Universidad de Granada.
Of course, not long after arriving in the city, it transpires that Helen
has given Ben the Spanish fiddle. It’s no spoiler to reveal that Belen
were doomed: aside from the fact that they are both in the capricious
flush of youth, Ben is needy, clingy and the sort of passive aggressive
nutjob who springs a surprise visit on his girlfriend because he’s unable
to read between the lines (explaining to Helen that he came to Spain
because she was ‘crying’ on the phone - she clarifies that was because she
was breaking up with him). What’s a well healed boy with a noxious sense
of entitlement to do? Hang around Granada until Helen sees sense, halts
whatever adventures she’s having, and falls back in love with our lovelorn
hero, that’s what. I mean, how dare she not?
We are positioned to receive Ben as our hero, meant to sympathise with
him, as if he has some sort of divine right to Helen. Meant to be
narratively satisfied when his time in Granada with other trustafarians
loafing about leads to some sort of mystical epiphany, as if Andalucía and
its denizens exist to assist the spiritual wellbeing of rich kids (Ben
scoffs at the €300 rent for his apartment as it is ‘nothing’ compared to
the London prices he’s used to paying: alright, Lord Snooty!).
Ben soon falls in with other Europeans, and spends his evenings getting
pissed and nausing up various would-be romantic encounters by banging on
about Helen. It’s a bit like a more PG-13ish version of the first act of
Hostel when those awful lads are lording it up in Amsterdam,
but unfortunately none of the conceited characters here end up being
tortured to death. Instead, they dip in and out of bars and receive cookie
cutter wisdom from such noble savages as an ‘old gypsy’ (their words) with
a guitar, and a polyglot barman who has chucked in his erudition in order
to pester the young female clients of his hostelry. Ben cannot even be
fucked to turn up on time for the Spanish language class in which he
whimsically enrols: what a character! (He signs up because another
character tells him that on the Costa Del Sol they don’t speak English,
but nearly everyone in the film does speak English, even the fella
knocking about selling roses to tourists).
There are moments in Granada Nights where wider ideas than
Ben’s self-involvement are touched upon, but these are sadly squandered.
Ezra Khan plays the wise street florist, who talks about Pakistani
identity, and the impossibility of changing how people choose to perceive
others (‘You look like Pakistani, you stay Pakistani’). However, in the
manner of a tourist checking off a to-see list, once his turn is done,
he’s forgotten about when Ben skips to the next escapade: tipping up at a
party and immediately attempting to chat up a woman. There is much talk
about how amazing this lifestyle is, as if the characters are trying to
convince us. But there is no real hedonism here: no drugs, no sexual
experimentation. There is no real sense that Ben is entranced by the
city’s character, either (‘it has an energy’ is the best he can muster
when asked).
[Spoiler] At the end of the film the
ubiquitously mentioned Helen re-appears and the pair share a taxi back
from yet another party. Via a tearful confession, which is the stuff of
toxic male fantasy, it turns out that she wants to get back with Ben. This
is a different Ben though, a man who has been irrevocably altered by a few
weeks of bumming around pubs and chatting to German exchange students. He
has found himself. Ben hurriedly exits the cab, slamming the door on
Helen; preferring instead to run up some steps in fey homage to
Rocky in order to watch the sunrise from the top of a
building with his mates. That’ll teach her! The hours spent being knocked
back in bars, the acquirement of casual Spanish, the distance travelled
uprooting to Andalucía: it was all worth it! Let’s hope that Ben’s
subsequent relationships all go accordingly though, if only for the sake
of his carbon footprint.
Granada Nights is in UK cinemas
from May 28th.
