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#616 - Human Traffic
Justin Kerrigan, 1999
Five British friends get together in order to escape their dead-end jobs and party away the weekend.
Human Traffic is quite possibly one of the most polarising films I've ever watched. Writer-director Kerrigan was only twenty-five when he made this film, resulting in a film that is equally ingenious and insipid in its portrait of youth culture in '90s Britain. The film follows a group of five twenty-something friends as they put up with their largely unsatisfying day-to-day lives in anticipation of the weekend, where they are free to let loose and party. Each one gets a degree of development that serves to define them; the film's protagonist (John Simm) is preoccupied with his insecurities about failed relationships, while his easygoing best friend (Shaun Parkes) is dangerously jealous of his innocently flirtatious girlfriend (Nicola Reynolds). Rounding the core ensemble is a snarky student (Lorraine Pilkington) and a young drug dealer (Danny Dyer). They all come together on Friday evening in order to head through a weekend of drugs and music where they hit up pubs, clubs, and house parties in order to forget their many worries. It's a pretty basic plot but Kerrigan is able to round it out by having the members of this particularly cynical and alienated generation articulate their inner angst and dreams through an awareness of the cinematic medium, with multiple characters directly addressing the camera and seguing into various fantasy spots as a result.
The reason that I find Human Traffic so polarising is that its portrayal of youth culture (which is rooted in Kerrigan's own experiences as a member of Britain's 1990s rave scene) is so rooted in self-awareness that it constantly alternates between endearing and grating. Scenes where character have imaginary conversations play out do expose certain relatable insecurities (such as Simm's encounter with his ex-girlfriend), but they are just as likely to result in off-colour fantasy spots (including one where Simm imagines himself literally being raped by his boss). This extends to characters processing real-life events through understandable media such as one young character's understanding of the club scene playing out like a current-affairs program or the rigours involved in obtaining marijuana being framed like a game show. Sometimes, these moments get a little too indulgent for their own good; the most obvious instance of this is Simm leading an entire pub into singing an awfully on-the-nose lyrical parody of "God Save the Queen". It is a film that's almost entirely built on artifice with characters breaking the fourth wall constantly or blatantly unnatural motions serving to break any possible immersion. Sometimes that's in service to the film and its characters' cynical perception of reality, but that doesn't mean it doesn't look sophomoric as hell sometimes (such as Reynolds perceiving the co-workers at her fast food job as thoughtless automatons). While this does ironically make its portrait of alienated young people seem even more alienating in its own right, one can sort of tolerate it; then again, I'm currently the same age as Kerrigan was when he made this film and I can still see through its logistics so any depth on display is still pretty shallow). Attempts to reach some degree of transcendence (such as Simm's monologue about what it's like to be on ecstasy) still fall a bit flat, though.
Though it's easy to see through the incredibly basic treatise presented in Human Traffic (as well as some of the characters' more ridiculous qualities, such as Simm openly revering stand-up comedian Bill Hicks as a patron saint), I can't help but deny that there is something inherently solid about the film. It accurately captures the ways in which even assembling with your closest friends for a weekend of relentless hedonism is no guarantee against feelings of loneliness and insecurity. Making instant friends with strangers under the influence of some less-than-legal substances is also shown to not pan out as one would expect in the movies, especially when Dyer's attempts to interpret the original Star Wars trilogy through a stoner lens for a stranger's amusement putters out awfully quickly. Of course, this does mean that various conflicts are also resolved or dropped with relative ease, such as Parkes' jealousy or Simm's inadequacies, which is admittedly a concession to the fantasies that the characters indulge for themselves. The fantastic nature of things does get a little too ridiculous, such as the sequence where Simm bluffs his way into scoring free entry to an extremely exclusive club.
Human Traffic has a rather interesting visual style thanks to its director's relative inexperience, with shots tending towards the static with the occasional moment of flourish when it comes to camera movement of positioning. This also extends to the editing that quickly jumps between fantasies and non sequiturs, resulting in a rather patchy film as a result. As with any sub-culture film, considerable attention is paid to providing the best possible music and the film indulges a wide variety of electronically-based genres such as house, electro, jungle, gangsta rap, and more. The comedy varies quite wildly - Dyer's thickly-accented character steals the show quite easily ("Nice one, bruva!"), while the other characters vary pretty wildly in how interesting or likable they are. While I've seen it a few times now, I'm still not sure whether or not I truly enjoy it. The film is erratic and thus it might click with me one minute before proving obnoxious the next. As such, I can't quite give it a good rating but I think my feelings about it are too complex to adequately sum up in a numerical rating. One of the most ambivalent cinematic experiences I can think of.
Justin Kerrigan, 1999
Five British friends get together in order to escape their dead-end jobs and party away the weekend.
Human Traffic is quite possibly one of the most polarising films I've ever watched. Writer-director Kerrigan was only twenty-five when he made this film, resulting in a film that is equally ingenious and insipid in its portrait of youth culture in '90s Britain. The film follows a group of five twenty-something friends as they put up with their largely unsatisfying day-to-day lives in anticipation of the weekend, where they are free to let loose and party. Each one gets a degree of development that serves to define them; the film's protagonist (John Simm) is preoccupied with his insecurities about failed relationships, while his easygoing best friend (Shaun Parkes) is dangerously jealous of his innocently flirtatious girlfriend (Nicola Reynolds). Rounding the core ensemble is a snarky student (Lorraine Pilkington) and a young drug dealer (Danny Dyer). They all come together on Friday evening in order to head through a weekend of drugs and music where they hit up pubs, clubs, and house parties in order to forget their many worries. It's a pretty basic plot but Kerrigan is able to round it out by having the members of this particularly cynical and alienated generation articulate their inner angst and dreams through an awareness of the cinematic medium, with multiple characters directly addressing the camera and seguing into various fantasy spots as a result.
The reason that I find Human Traffic so polarising is that its portrayal of youth culture (which is rooted in Kerrigan's own experiences as a member of Britain's 1990s rave scene) is so rooted in self-awareness that it constantly alternates between endearing and grating. Scenes where character have imaginary conversations play out do expose certain relatable insecurities (such as Simm's encounter with his ex-girlfriend), but they are just as likely to result in off-colour fantasy spots (including one where Simm imagines himself literally being raped by his boss). This extends to characters processing real-life events through understandable media such as one young character's understanding of the club scene playing out like a current-affairs program or the rigours involved in obtaining marijuana being framed like a game show. Sometimes, these moments get a little too indulgent for their own good; the most obvious instance of this is Simm leading an entire pub into singing an awfully on-the-nose lyrical parody of "God Save the Queen". It is a film that's almost entirely built on artifice with characters breaking the fourth wall constantly or blatantly unnatural motions serving to break any possible immersion. Sometimes that's in service to the film and its characters' cynical perception of reality, but that doesn't mean it doesn't look sophomoric as hell sometimes (such as Reynolds perceiving the co-workers at her fast food job as thoughtless automatons). While this does ironically make its portrait of alienated young people seem even more alienating in its own right, one can sort of tolerate it; then again, I'm currently the same age as Kerrigan was when he made this film and I can still see through its logistics so any depth on display is still pretty shallow). Attempts to reach some degree of transcendence (such as Simm's monologue about what it's like to be on ecstasy) still fall a bit flat, though.
Though it's easy to see through the incredibly basic treatise presented in Human Traffic (as well as some of the characters' more ridiculous qualities, such as Simm openly revering stand-up comedian Bill Hicks as a patron saint), I can't help but deny that there is something inherently solid about the film. It accurately captures the ways in which even assembling with your closest friends for a weekend of relentless hedonism is no guarantee against feelings of loneliness and insecurity. Making instant friends with strangers under the influence of some less-than-legal substances is also shown to not pan out as one would expect in the movies, especially when Dyer's attempts to interpret the original Star Wars trilogy through a stoner lens for a stranger's amusement putters out awfully quickly. Of course, this does mean that various conflicts are also resolved or dropped with relative ease, such as Parkes' jealousy or Simm's inadequacies, which is admittedly a concession to the fantasies that the characters indulge for themselves. The fantastic nature of things does get a little too ridiculous, such as the sequence where Simm bluffs his way into scoring free entry to an extremely exclusive club.
Human Traffic has a rather interesting visual style thanks to its director's relative inexperience, with shots tending towards the static with the occasional moment of flourish when it comes to camera movement of positioning. This also extends to the editing that quickly jumps between fantasies and non sequiturs, resulting in a rather patchy film as a result. As with any sub-culture film, considerable attention is paid to providing the best possible music and the film indulges a wide variety of electronically-based genres such as house, electro, jungle, gangsta rap, and more. The comedy varies quite wildly - Dyer's thickly-accented character steals the show quite easily ("Nice one, bruva!"), while the other characters vary pretty wildly in how interesting or likable they are. While I've seen it a few times now, I'm still not sure whether or not I truly enjoy it. The film is erratic and thus it might click with me one minute before proving obnoxious the next. As such, I can't quite give it a good rating but I think my feelings about it are too complex to adequately sum up in a numerical rating. One of the most ambivalent cinematic experiences I can think of.