Silver Haze – Film Review
by Hugh Maguire

Director – Sacha Polak
Writer – Sacha Polak
Stars – Vicky Knight, Esme Creed-Miles, Charlotte Knight

In key moments of British theatre history,  plays such as John Osborne’s Look Back in Anger (1956) and Harold Pinter’s The Homecoming 1964) set new bars in stage realism, both in dialogue and acting style.  Such ‘realism’ or what passes for realism is of course the preserve of any number of film directors from later generations, many of them household names, with Mike Leigh, Terence Davies and Ken Loach being to the fore.  Something like Silver Haze reaches new heights (or depths?) of realism which in some respects can make other films and plays seem artful and contrived.

Our put-upon subject is a hardworking, caring nurse who is much hassled – with a dysfunctional family and home life, including an unsuitable partner and an emotionally needy sister.  Into this mix comes a damaged patient from the hospital where Franky’s reaching-out kindness morphs into an on-again off-again lesbian relationship – a casual thing for one but something more profound and life-changing for Franky.  It’s as if we follow in the manner of a hidden camera how the quotidian and the profound can be side by side.

Already scarred from a childhood accident which has left her physically injured, it is evident that the psychological trauma of this event still hangs heavily.  Her mother has been shattered by life and seems incapable of moving from the sofa, some siblings seem feckless and it is a life of no hope or opportunity in a soulless housing scheme in one of the less sought-after suburbs of London.  Yet amid this hopelessness, there is family love and warmth – genuine openness and acceptance of difference, and there seems to be wine on tap!

Escaping the family pressure cooker there is a shift to Southend-on-Sea where Franky and her new lover settle into an alternative home, with a make-shift (or blended) family – the lover, an intellectually disabled young man, and the ever-calm house owner and Florence who just happens to have terminal cancer.   What transpires throughout the film is how life itself is never a continuous narrative – there are happy moments, loving moments, scary and hateful moments, all perhaps within minutes of each other.  Everyone is seeking something similar – care, love and affection.  Where the film slips and it is more an observation than a criticism, is in the clashing of multiple narratives.  Everyone has a story, but attempting to tackle everyone’s issues in the tight time frame of a film, can create if not confusion a sense of exhaustion, the battles with dad, the lover, lazy mum, converting to Islam sibling, life at the hospital and so on.  Layering this with a hard-to-decipher East London accent and dialogue will not by itself expand the audience base.  It is one thing to have local relevance and to reflect local ways but if these become impenetrable for others then the opportunity to reach a wider audience is lost.  This would be a great shame because the key role is compelling and the manner in which the central actress, Franky, holds together the narrative and indeed life itself is inspiring.