Andrea Arnold's FISH TANK is a meticulously constructed social realist drama - and that's something of a problem. Though it's not automatically a sign of disingenuousness that a filmmaker working in this genre knows precisely what they want to say and how they want to say it, the tighter the authorial grip, the more likely the characters' narratives will seem over-managed and, therefore, less authentic. Even if the director is fiercely opposed to improvisation, there should still be a sense of spontaneity to the lives of the characters; if one gets too on the nose, they sacrifice realism and run the risk of manufacturing a hoary Social Drama in the self-important Hollywood style.
On the surface, FISH TANK couldn't be further from a Stanley Kramer message picture. Set in and around the slums of Essex, England, Arnold announces her gritty intentions in the opening scene, where her fifteen-year-old protagonist, Mia (Katie Jarvis), ends a tiff with some neighborhood girls by headbutting one of them in the nose. Her blood up from the row, Mia scurries off looking for more trouble, and finds it in a lone white horse chained to the ground outside of a dilapidated trailer. Woozy from the bludgeoning symbolism of this tableau, Mia takes a rock to the animal's restraints, at which point a) she's chased away by its owner, and b) the viewer realizes they're not in the presence of England's answer to the Dardennes.
Arnold's film may be slathered in squalid verisimilitude, but it's as fresh as a community theater production of Elmer Rice's STREET SCENE. Mia's situation is certainly "real" enough: the messy apartment barely maintained by her unloving, promiscuous, alcoholic, abusive and otherwise unpleasant mother, Joanne (Kierston Wareing), feels lived in; her relationship with her bratty, COMMANDO-quoting sister* is believably contentious; and her dream of making it as a hip-hop dancer is the kind of thing a kid with little education and no options would cling to as an express ticket out of hell. But the story is mostly cobbled together with borrowed pieces from other coming-of-age/juvenile delinquent tales: LOS OLVIDADOS, THE 400 BLOWS, KES, OVER THE EDGE... one senses Arnold's affection for these films throughout, without sensing her much at all.
Arnold's imprint is largely on the surface, and impressive as far as that goes. She dots the film with lovely little details that would resonate as memorable grace notes in a movie of consequence (e.g. Arnold's debut feature, RED ROAD). Take, for instance, a shot from within a junked car peering out through a cracked windshield caked with a bloody tuft of hair. It's gone in an instant, but it sticks as a subtle, unsettling portent for the kind of dead end awaiting Mia should she continue down her aimless, pissed-off, booze-addled path. It also suggests Arnold, should she learn to trust her audience, has a capacity for understatement - which isn't so clear when, say, she's cutting to a recently caught fish desperately gasping for oxygen on a riverbank.
That the poor, defenseless fish has been caught by Joanne's new boyfriend, Connor (Michael Fassbender, awesome as usual), triggers the usual alarm bells - even though he's taken such a seemingly selfless interest in her two incorrigible daughters. He's particularly intrigued by Mia's interest in joining a dance troupe of some ill-defined variety (nothing to worry about there!), going so far as to lend out his video camera so she can tape an audition. Being that Connor is a pretty good looking guy, and happens to be dating her daughter, it's hardly a surprise when Mia begins flirting with him. Soon, Arnold thrusts the characters into one of those icky, erotically-charged "Will-they-or-won't-they?" scenarios, with the only possible outcome in a film like this being "They will, and Mia's little sister will probably catch them and attempt to use it as leverage."
Aside from an almost-innocent dalliance with a boy from the junkyard where the chained equine symbol resides, Mia predictably makes the worst possible choice at every turn. And when she becomes obsessed with Connor to the point of tracking him down at his house, her behavior gets so errant that the audience loses all sympathy for her. Of course, it's understandable for a girl this sexually confused to pull a FATAL ATTRACTION trick on Connor; that her act feels cynically cribbed from FATAL ATTRACTION strips it of any emotional impact.
It's no fun getting this tough on a small film from a promising young director, but FISH TANK is so clearly a step in the wrong direction after the original RED ROAD, it's hard not to feel a bit ripped off - especially since Arnold's formal skills are rapidly developing. Despite its insanely derivative nature, the visual poetry of FISH TANK snowed a great many critics. She's going to be a major filmmaker. Hollywood will come calling. At this rate, however, it seems more likely her talent will be wasted on a middlebrow prestige picture like THINGS WE LOST IN THE FIRE than put to use on something more daring. Sadly, if Arnold's willing to shamelessly wed Ken Loach's aesthetic to a down-in-the-mouth variation on SATURDAY NIGHT FEVER, chances are she'll move comfortably and confidently within the awards season derby for many years to come. What a loss that would be.
Faithfully submitted,
Mr. Beaks
*It's only one quote, but these things are worth noting.
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