REVIEW: Submarine

Submarine (2010)

Director: Richard Ayoade

Writers: Richard Ayoade (screenplay) and Joe Dunthorne (novel)

Stars: Craig Roberts, Yasmin Paige, Sally Hawkins, Paddy Considine

Submarine has been called a ‘coming-of-age comedy-drama’ and I would understand if this description alone was your reason for avoiding this film. You would be justified in expecting the ‘comedy’ to be unfunny and the ‘drama’ unmoving. Teenagers are irritating, and they become dull adults; having recently transitioned out of adolescence myself, it is hardly something I want to relive cinematically. But ‘coming-of-age comedy-drama’ does not do Submarine any justice at all.

Unfortunately, there is no way to describe this quirky, quick, quaint film that captures its intelligence, richness or relentless humour. Indeed, even those vague terms can’t do it. Instead, I have chosen a clip:

It isn’t difficult to understand this if you’ve ever seen a ‘coming-of-age comedy-drama’ before – the protagonist (here, Oliver Tate, a 15 year-old from Swansea) is simultaneously trying to save his own first relationship and his parents’ marriage. So far, so conventional. However, as this clip shows, it is the idiosyncratic way Oliver goes about his mission that makes this film stand out.Oliver’s approach to love is calculated and pragmatic; he researches extensively (see the book he is reading at 0.23 is called Making Relationships Work) and his voice-overs outlines his tactics. Personally, I think relationships would be much easier if everybody behaved so rationally and reasonably, but his methods clash with the feelings of his girlfriend and his parents. The letter is a perfect example of this – logically, it is fail-safe, but in the emotional reality of relationships, it just doesn’t work.

Even when Oliver is impersonating his father in the letter, or parroting the language of self-help books to his mother, his voice is unmistakable. Everything is from his perspective, told from his unusual point of view. Indeed, his voice itself has burrowed itself into my mind; his distinctive Welsh drawl makes his monologues seem laconic yet witty, and the dialogue simply hilarious. Craig Roberts’ delivery is nothing short of superb, particularly in the awkward exchanges with his mother, played by Sally Hawkins – as this clip demonstrates from about 0.26 onwards.

Submarine is an impressive directorial debut for Richard Ayoade. I’m not surprised by the finely-tuned comedy; he is most famous for his acting roles in Garth Merenghi’s Darkplace, The Mighty Boosh and The IT Crowd. As much as I admire his performances, I might even go as far to say that I prefer his work behind the camera. The cinematography is experimental, certainly, although occasionally distracting: this clip alone includes a documentary-style zoom-in on the letter (0.27) and an ominous movement as Oliver leans in at 0.48. It shows the sharp style and frequent jump-cuts that force us to watch the film in the way Ayoade wants us to. He must have written the screenplay knowing how the film would look, as shown by a subtly brilliant moment of metacinema earlier in the film. (Pathetically, that was probably my favourite moment, so I won’t spoil it for anybody else with a similarly off-centre sense of humour.)

You might have guessed that I completely loved it. The peril of reviewing is that most people will inevitably disagree with you, but I hope I can persuade one person to seek it out (it had a very limited release) and that they feel the same way. Submarine looks pretentious, but it is intelligent; looks ‘indie’, but is playfully experimental; it might sound like a ‘coming-of-age comedy-drama’, but don’t let that put you off.

How to bluff your way through... CHILDREN’S LITERATURE

If children’s books were just for children, Harry Potter would never have become so astoundingly successful, selling over 400 million copies worldwide and spawning the highest grossing film series of all time. Our parents are to blame for that. Adults read the books to their kids, got hooked themselves, told their friends, pushed up sales and created the greatest literary phenomenon of recent times. Love or hate the boy wizard, he shows that kid’s books aren’t just for kids. Here is your quick guide to some great literature that little’uns shouldn’t be allowed to keep to themselves.

For Bookworms

Eoin Colfer calls his Artemis Fowl series ‘Die Hard with fairies’ – there’s no better way to describe this wickedly funny collision of a teenage criminal genius and subterranean, supernatural soldiers. As much as I hate to call a book ‘laugh-out-loud funny’, Colfer is hugely entertaining, even for so-called grown-ups.

I’ll be honest – the head-spinning teenager-speak of The Confessions of Georgia Nicolson makes me feel dizzy. And that makes me feel old. But Louise Rennison creates adolescence’s answer to Bridget Jones, who remains as likable and as funny as ‘Dave the Laugh’.

For Budding Historians

Some of the most powerful literature about war is from the perspective of the youngest victims. Ian Serraillier’s The Silver Sword is the true account of a family escaping occupied Warsaw, but the most memorable story is that of the Balicki children, surviving in a bombed-out cellar and open woodlands with no parents to protect them from Nazi forces.

Deborah Ellis spent months interviewing women and girls in refugee camps in Pakistan for The Breadwinner, about an 11 year-old girl forced to dress as a boy to provide for her family in Taliban-era Afghanistan. A window into the real impact of the Gulf Wars.

For Everybody

The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time isn’t a children’s book, but the autism of the 15 year-old protagonist makes it an essential read for all ages, showing that we all need to learn that the world is a difficult place for many, whether we’re supposedly grown-up or not.

This article was originally published in Epigram (2011).

How to bluff your way through... AUTOBIOGRAPHY

In 1809, Isaac D’Israeli wrote, ‘if the populous of writers become thus querulous after fame (to which they have no pretensions) we shall expect to see an epidemical rage for auto-biography break out.’ 200 years later, and Jordan/Katie Price has already published four different autobiographies. Was D’Israeli right? I have never read Price’s work, so it would be unfair to call her books soulless, worthless artefacts of a fame-hungry, talentless attention-vacuum. But these autobiographies turn some truly amazing people into quality literature.

Boys and their Tales of Childhood

The critic Clive James brings all the wit of his newspaper columns to his own life in his Unreliable Memoirs. His childhood in post-war, suburban Sydney is startlingly honest and surprisingly captivating. Not only that, but his autobiography is undeniably, irresistibly hilarious. If you can’t stop laughing, he has written four more volumes.

Roald Dahl understood children like no other author. Boy: Tales of Childhood is technically written for his younger audience, but, for his grown-up fans, it not only describes his early life, but transports you back into the mind that created gigantic flying peaches and Big Friendly Giants.

Also recommended: My Family and Other Animals, Gerald Durrell

Fictionalized Tales

In the introduction to Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit, Jeanette Winterson writes, ‘Is Oranges an autobiographical novel? No not at all and yes of course.’ There is nothing straightforward about her story of a girl, also Jeanette, coming-out to her evangelical church community. She stretches the truth into art, inserting rewritten fairy tales and structuring her life like the Bible, yet there is a sincere, honest heart to the fictionalized novel.

Semi-autobiographical works are the ultimate incarnation of ‘writing what you know’ and there are countless such novels. Some noteworthy examples include: Sons and Lovers, D. H. Lawrence, David Copperfield, Charles Dickens; The Bell Jar, Sylvia Plath.

Untold Tales

We know almost nothing about Shakespeare. He did not write an autobiography. The next best thing, however, is Bill Bryson’s Shakespeare: The World as a Stage, which entertainingly skips through what we can puzzle out about the legendary writer.

Claire Tomalin is the queen of literary biographies. Jane Austen may have had a dull life on the surface, but Tomalin brings out the sharp intelligence that makes Austen one of the best-loved authors in the English language.

This article orginally appeared in Epigram (Issue 237, 21/03/2011, p. 20).

How to bluff your way through... CHICK LIT

‘Chick lit’ is simply slang for ‘women’s literature’: books written by women, about women, for women. But it is often derogatory, implying ‘bad female writers’ and ‘stupid female readers’ (according to Urban Dictionary). Chick lit is the book world’s equivalent of Sex in the City or Ugly Betty at best, and Footballer’s Wives or a lobotomy at worst. It is debatable whether chick lit is ‘lit’ at all, but if you lock away your inner snob, these books can be entertaining, enjoyable escapism.

Vintage chicks

Originally a column in the Independent, Bridget Jones’s Diary is now a cultural artefact of cosmopolitan 90s life and the rise of ‘Champagne Socialism’. Helen Fielding’s books are much wittier and more intelligent than the films, but just as vibrant. I cringe every time I read it, but there is a little of her in every girl who wishes for a Mark Darcy to save her from a certain fate involving Alsatians...

Unashamed chicks

I don’t wish to exclude the male reader, but the following recommendations are deliciously, indulgently girly. In Lucia Lucia, Adriana Trigiani brings 1950s New York’s Uptown glamour and Greenwich Village charm into full Technicolor life. Eva Rice does the same for Britain’s glitzy post-war aristocracy in The Lost Art of Keeping Secrets. You will want to put on a pretty dress and live in the past.

Just great lit

The term ‘chick lit’ does put off many readers, but these modern female writers do not deserve to be consigned to the trashier shelves of Waterstone's. Audrey Niffennegger underplays The Time Traveller’s Wife’s central science-fiction concept with human warmth and sympathy. Nicole Krauss’s The History of Love is as ambitious as its title: it is also simply beautiful and heartbreakingly bleak. Forget the chick lit clichés – this is unflinching and uncompromising literature.

This article was originally published in Epigram (Issue 236, 07/03/2011, p. 20).

How to bluff your way through... CLASSIC NOVELS

‘The classics’ aren’t just the boring old novels we were force-fed at school. They’re also the books gathering dust on the shelf – novels you really ought to read, but never get around to. What makes a book a ‘classic’? Technically, ‘classic fiction’ isn’t a genre at all, but a term invented by booksellers and publishers to group the best literature together. Reading classic novels makes you sound intelligent and interesting, but the sheer volume of texts means it is difficult to bluff your way through. Here is your very quick guide to key authors and the most impressive books to read.

Victorian novels

Charles Dickens is the king of Victorian novelists, but criticised for sentimentality and implausible plots. His books are epic in length, so if you only manage one Dickens, try Great Expectations or Oliver Twist. Beware of adaptations – mockney musicals are fun, but you’ll be caught out if you start talking about cheerily singing orphans.

Advanced Bluffing: Visceral realist Thomas Hardy; wickedest of wits, Wilde.

Women writers

Jane Austen isn’t just the 19^th-century’s chick-lit writer; her novels are witty social commentaries as well as perfectly-formed romances. However, George Eliot is the greater literary lady. Yes, Eliot was a woman – her real name was Marian Evans. Her novels are intellectually stunning and morally powerful. The Mill on the Floss is a brilliant introduction to her work; Middlemarch is her magnum opus, but only to be attempted by the committed.

Advanced Bluffing: The Brontë sisters, especially Charlotte’s Jane Eyre and Emily’s Wuthering Heights; modernist Virginia Woolf.

Modern classics

These 20^th century writers are the literary equivalent of the cool kids at the back of the bus. James Joyce is the ultimate challenge to the bluffer, but I’m pretty sure nobody has ever finished Ulysses. His work is demanding, lyrical and ambiguous like poetry, but a knowledge of him can charm the pants off any arts student. Try Dubliners, a collection of short stories – amazing literature in bite-size chunks.

Other Sexy Modern Classics: the prophet George Orwell; slick American F. Scott Fitzgerald; scandalous D. H. Lawrence.

This article was originally published in Epigram (Issue 235, 21/02/2011, p. 20).