CINEMA: Justin Pearce
KEN LOACH’S Raining Stones is the cinematic equivalent=20 of protest theatre — only without the protest. After a=20 decade and a half of Tory government, working-class=20 council housing estates in the north of England are not=20 happy places, and Raining Stones is an account of the=20 misery created by unemployment, a broken-down welfare=20 system, the loan-sharks who prey on poverty, and a=20 handful of unhappy accidents.
All this is conveyed with imagery which is sometimes=20 plainly naturalistic, sometimes heavy-handed — getting=20 covered in excrement, down a sewer or wrestling with a=20 stolen sheep, is a recurrent metaphor for the=20 humiliation involved in trying to scrape together a=20 living when a steady job is not even worth dreaming=20
Where the film differs from struggle theatre is in the=20 lack of a struggle to set the characters against their=20 plight. “World in crisis — Is there a socialist=20 alternative?” reads a poster in the welfare office. In=20 its context, the question seems rhetorical: if there is=20 a socialist alternative, it’s not going to happen here.
The film’s characters have other concerns. In the case=20 of its devoutly Catholic protagonist, Bob Williams, the=20 first priority is to buy his daughter’s First Communion=20 dress, a shiny white confection which supposedly=20 justifies the amount of filth her father has to go=20 through to buy it. The church itself appears benign,=20 but its members’ irrational adherence to its rituals=20 and doctrine of individual guilt only gets them into=20 more trouble.
And so it continues, the film drifting from incident to=20 incident, until things just get too bad and Bob manages=20 some almost-accidental heroics. This sort of solves=20 some of the problems — and as an epilogue there’s a=20 happy coincidence that further sort of solves some of=20 the problems, and puts the last nail in the coffin of=20 this film’s credibility. Maybe we can believe the=20 characters’ bland refusal to battle against their fate=20 — there aren’t many real-life heroes these days, after=20 all. But if you don’t believe in heroes, it’s equally=20 hard to believe in happy endings.
Be afraid when you see the publicity for Love and a=20 .45. Be very afraid. It invokes Reservoir Dogs and=20 Natural Born Killers, among other movies — and when=20 you see Love and a .45, you realise why it needs to=20 bask in their reflected gory glory.
Quentin Tarantino has been described as a one-man=20 genre, and Love and a .45 tries to show that the genre=20 is not exclusive Tarantino terrain. That’s a noble=20 enough project in itself (rumour has it that Tarantino=20 is an arrogant brat), but the film does it by taking as=20 many sub-Tarantino plot snippets as it can find and=20 tries to make a new movie. Needless to say, out- quenting Quentin doesn’t work.
The best way to entertain yourself during the film’s=20 more tedious moments is to spot the borrowings. Hey,=20 brains being splattered against the wall! They did that=20 in Pulp Fiction. Psychopathic killer tormenting his=20 victim? Smacks of Mr Blonde in Reservoir Dogs. Someone=20 trying to pull off a store robbery but the victims=20 won’t co-operate? Shades of Honey Bunny and Pumpkin in=20 Pulp Fiction again. Grunge-trendy young couple running=20 away to a secret wedding and blowing away anyone who=20 stands in their path? Did you also see, what was that=20 movie called, uhh, Natural Born Killers, I think?
Leading gun-toting gal Renee Zellweger even looks as if=20 she’s been cloned from the genes of Patricia Arquette=20 (True Romance) and Juliette Lewis (Natural Born=20 Killers). But she is no more able to play a memorable=20 character based on second-hand acting tips than Love=20 and a .45 is able to make a memorable movie from what=20 could almost be cutting-room snippets.