Review by
Eric Hillis
Directed by: Naqqash Khalid
Starring: Nabhaan Rizwan, Amir El-Masry, Rory Fleck Byrne, Josie Walker
Writer/director Naqqash Khalid opens his feature debut In Camera with a double bait and switch. A grizzled older detective and his
rookie partner stand over the bloodied corpse of a South Asian man,
muttering clichéd dialogue. From off screen a director yells "cut" and
we realise we're on the set of a TV show. We follow the actor playing
the rookie detective as he promptly gets on the phone to his agent and
moans about being stuck in a project that doesn't inspire him. He wants
to break out of TV into film and has his heart set on collaborating with
a rising filmmaker his agent refers to as "the Asian guy." Just when it
seems the film is set to follow this troubled actor we're introduced to
its actual protagonist, Aden (Nabhaan Rizwan), the young actor who played the corpse.
In Camera is a satire of the current state of Britain's film industry and
its transparent obsession with diversity and inclusion. Almost one in 10
Brits are from an Asian background and yet are largely absent from
movies and TV (British movies and TV shows being made with one eye on
American distribution doesn't help in this regard). Aden finds himself
attending a stream of auditions that we know will lead nowhere, either
because he's being forced to go through the motions of reading for a
role clearly intended for a white actor or because he's competing with a
fellow Asian actor whose image is considered "unproblematic." The
audition process is portrayed through a series of increasingly surreal,
often Kafka-esque vignettes. Auditioning for a toothpaste commercial, a
casting agent screams the word "whiter" at Aden; she's talking about his
teeth, but the double meaning isn't lost. Aden often finds himself
crammed into small rooms stuffed with other identically dressed South
Asian actors. Playing the role of a terrorist, complete with fake beard,
Aden is asked to "try an accent, maybe something Middle Eastern."
In Camera shares certain aspects with another recent British
movie, Moin Hussain's Sky Peals, which similarly deployed surreal humour to examine South Asian
identity in modern Britain. Both films aren't content to simply punch up
at the white hegemony, with their South Asian protagonists just as
uncomfortable in the presence of brown faces as white ones. When an
elderly Asian cab driver tries to probe Aden regarding his background,
Aden rolls his eyes and tunes out. The question of "where are you really
from?" is tiresome regardless of its intent. When the flat Aden shares
with an overworked Irish junior doctor, Bo (Rory Fleck Byrne),
takes on a third tenant, Aden is quietly horrified to find himself
sharing the space with another young South Asian man, Conrad (Amir El-Masry).
The introduction of Conrad sends In Camera into Dostoevsky territory as the suave and confident Conrad
becomes a counterpoint to the withdrawn Aden. Where Aden is disheartened
by his industry's cynical attitude towards "representation," Conrad
compels him to embrace it to his advantage. "It's our time," Conrad
declares, but the suggestion that Aden and Conrad are kin stings the
former. Aden wants to be recognised as an individual, not simply as part
of a group, regardless of whether he's being placed in that group by
white people or those who share his background. When asked why he likes
acting, Aden struggles to commit to an answer but the film suggests it's
because it allows him to escape his own identity. Well, in theory at
least. In practice he's very much expected to stay within his proscribed
identity if he hopes to land work.
At one point Aden gets a genuine chance to remove the shackles of his
South Asian label and literally play the role of a white man. He's
approached by a grieving mother (Josie Walker) who wishes to pay
him to have dinner with her and her husband while pretending to be their
dead son. At first Aden takes the job solely because he's desperate for
rent money and it's a rare chance to enjoy a home-cooked meal, but he
takes to the part like a duck to water, relishing the chance to play a
character who isn't just "an Asian guy." This fascinating subplot is
unfortunately dispensed rather quickly, replaced by a less interesting
descent into Dostoevsky/Fight Club terrain as Aden begins to model himself on Conrad to the point
where Bo can't tell them apart, causing us to question whether Conrad
ever really existed or Bo is simply blind to brown faces. Bo gets his
own subplot that sees him hallucinating hospital vending machines,
bleeding office blocks and washing machines that lead to the abyss, but
this strand detracts from Aden's more compelling story.
In Camera is often hilarious, with Aden's various auditions almost serving
as standalone skits in the manner of the 1989 Jeff Goldblum
vehicle The Tall Guy (a scene involving Aden playing a stereotypical working class
Mancunian plays like a direct call back to The Tall Guy's fictional play "England, My England"). As it reaches its climax In Camera seems to run out of ideas however, settling for a shocking finale
whose lack of imagination is in contrast to the innovation displayed by
Khalid in his film as a whole. It's Rizwan's layered performance that
lingers after viewing, the sort of role that every actor, regardless of
their identity, dreams of. As a show reel for its leading man's talents
it shows he can do comedy and drama with equal conviction. Now it's up
to the industry to decide if Nizwan can become a star, or like Aden,
settle for a string of patronising at best, offensive at worst, South
Asian roles.
In Camera is in UK cinemas
from September 13th.
