Reviewed by Adrian Hieatt
Stars Katie Jarvis, Michael Fassbender, Kierston Wareing, Harry Treadaway, Jason Maza, Charlotte Collins, Chelsea Chase, Sarah Counsell, Brooke Hobby
Written by Andrea Arnold
Certification UK 15
Runtime 124 minutes
Directed by Andrea Arnold
The words ‘gritty social drama’ are bandied about a lot, but they are the only fitting description for this gripping, close-up effort from the brilliant Arnold (a short-film Oscar and BAFTA winner).
The premise of the story itself is probably unsurprising. It’s the tale of a 15-year-old girl, Mia (Jarvis), the eldest daughter of a supremely unloving mother, whose daily life is filled with nasty confrontations, an alarmingly pointless existence seemingly destined to spiral into tragedy, and the heavy use of alcohol to get away from it all. Mia’s mother holds drunken parties with the simple aim of getting laid with whoever might wander in, and Mia’s younger sister has the most remarkable vocabulary you can imagine (the "c" word, in various permutations, features liberally throughout her dialogue).
Growing up in a block of soulless council flats, everything in the central character’s life begins with anger, suspicion and an overwhelming absence of love, to the extent that as a viewer you keep wanted to jump in and give the poor girl a hug. The only thing she seems to enjoy is street dancing, and she keeps that a secret. It’s not until her mother gets a new boyfriend (Connor, played by Fassbender) that she starts to experience compassion in any real sense, but as she gets closer and closer to this (much older) man, we know there’s no way it can end happily.
The casting hits every note perfectly – from Fassbender (giving possibly his best performance), to the hateful mother (played by Wareing, who spitefully tells Mia that she had planned to abort her before she was born). But there’s no doubt that Fish Tank belongs to Jarvis. The story of how this non-acting, unemployed school drop-out was "discovered" has already been well-documented: One day, she was having a massive row with her boyfriend across the platforms at a train station in Tilbury Town, when she was approached about a film appearance, and didn’t believe it was a genuine offer. Luckily for us, she was eventually convinced. Her emotional performance pushes all the right buttons and, perhaps because she didn’t spend years in stage school or making bad films and TV, it’s never over-the-top or over-rehearsed.
The genius here is that the character has been so well formed and is so incredibly realistic, that when she does or says something that might in isolation be shocking or appear revolting, we sympathise. The audience can understand why she acts in the way that she does because of the extreme circumstances in which she lives. To pull this off convincingly is tough for any film, and it’s a massive credit to everything about the movie that this isn’t rammed down our throats or explained too much. The film’s never preachy, and doesn’t talk about the reasons for social discord - it simply shows them.
That said, there are some problems which it wouldn’t be fair not to mention. The film is too long for one thing. There is also a plot strand which sees Mia repeatedly trying to free a tethered horse and set him free before he dies, in a slightly too-obvious allegory of her own situation. But these really are very small points. The crowning glory of Fish Tank is that the climax doesn’t go down any well-trodden routes. There’s no massive redemption, no spectacularly tragic event (though it comes close) and most importantly, Mia never becomes a hero. Her life simply moves on from all the terrible things that have happened, and we can only wish her the best and keep our fingers crossed for her.
Although every scene is so utterly riveting, it’s tough to decide exactly why. Even when barely anything is happening, it’s hard not to be on the edge of your seat – there is a sense of impending and inevitable doom that really hangs in the atmosphere throughout, and it effectively mirrors how Mia is feeling. She is never able to let down her guard, and neither is the audience.