As the name suggests, Awaydays centres on football hooliganism. Those looking for unadulterated violent entertainment in a similar vein to Football Factory should look elsewhere. In fact, those looking for any entertainment at all should probably avoid this completely. This film is not fun; it is miserable. More miserable than marriage, miscarriage and Morrissey ground together in a pot of genocide.
The setting for this film is Merseyside, naturally. In the grim early years of Thatcher, The Pack travel from town to town to engage in mindless fisticuffs with fellow football fans.
Carty (Nicky Bell) longs for acceptance into the group. He finds a means of entry through Elvis (Stephen Graham) – a bohemian amongst apes – who befriends him on the basis of their mutual appreciation of good music, and the opportunity to make an emotional connection with someone of intelligence. Despite mutual artistic leanings, both have divergent interests: Carty wants nothing more than primal release through sex and violence, whilst Elvis yearns to escape that very same vacuum.
To understand these characters, the director wants you to relate to the boredom and drudgery of their environment. In this respect he succeeds, only perhaps a bit too well. The scenery is awash with dull browns and greys and the plot moves at a snail’s pace, never managing to muster up much momentum. The film stretches your patience to its maximum, to the point where the prospect of mindless violence is screamed for. But the payoff never delivers.
The fight scenes are clumsily shot, never yielding the visceral impact that is demanded. The film itself is schizophrenic in its endeavours. On the one hand it wants to drag the audience through grit and grime, but at the same time it strives desperately for stylish cult-chic.
Slow-motion moments, pensive, wide-angled river shots and trippy drug montages are used liberally and superfluously. All of which detract from what is genuinely interesting-the characters. The young leads play their roles superbly, creating wonderful chemistry and managing to portray the contradictions within themselves with complete plausibility.
The supporting cast fare just as well; Stephen Graham as the leader of The Pack dominates the screen in every scene he’s in, and Holliday Grainger as Carty’s sister plays her vulnerable character perfectly.
Despite strong performances all round, perhaps the most disappointing area of the film is the lack of understanding of the characters’ situations and their consequent behavioural patterns.
Carty for example leads a humdrum life working in administration, his intelligence and artistic talents in danger of rotting away; but he never shows any contempt for his lifestyle. He seems perfectly happy with his underachievement: he taps plentiful ass; has a sister who idolises him; and holds no financial worries. As such, his dogmatic passion to beat the shit out of strangers never sits comfortably with the audience.
By the end of the film this irritates heavily, clouding whatever message is meant to be delivered. Some scenes are deeply poignant and yet others boring and drawn out. Interesting setups fail to be mined fully for their potential.
The film gets top marks for effort, but below average for execution. It is noble in its attempts to require patience from the viewer and avoid simple gratifying conclusions. In this respect it might warrant a viewing; any semi-decent British output should be commended.
Though if you do choose to watch it, expect to want to punch it in the face afterwards.
Two Stars out of Five
