Review by Neil Davey
Stars Tamer Hassan, Simon Phillips, Danny Dyer, Daisy Head, Rita Ramnani, John Mawson, Sebastian Street, Ronan Vibert, Martin J Thomas, Jim Ford
Written by John Stanley
Certification UK 18
Runtime 84 minutes
Directed by Imran Naqvi
You know what's getting boring? Having to write negative reviews of British films. You know what's even more boring? Having to write negative reviews of British films while acknowledging that there's a decent idea at its centre.
Is there a nation of filmmakers more prone to taking a decent central conceit and, for the most part, ballsing it up in glorious style? The Last Seven certainly fits in to that depressing camp. Even allowing for its obvious debts (28 Days / Weeks Later and assorted horror films I won't name for fear of spoilers), there's an effective idea here, the germ of something worthwhile. There are some dreadful performances (as you'd expect given the likely budget) but there are a couple of decent ones too, while cinematographer-turned-director Naqvi suggests he's got the sort of eye that deserves to stay in the job. And yet, ultimately, it all adds up to far less than the sum of its parts.
It doesn't help, of course, that so much time is spent on establishing shots and flashbacks. The story starts with William Blake (Phillips) coming to in a deserted London street. He has no idea who he is, why he's there or where everybody else has gone, so he starts to wander the streets. Slightly inevitably, he starts to wander the streets of The City of London at, I'd guess, around 4am on a Sunday morning, when the area is unpopulated but still full of recognisable landmarks like The Gherkin.
Eventually (after 10 drawn out minutes or so where I defy people not to shout "Yes, the streets are empty, we get the bleeding point") he finds some other "survivors" including Henry (Mawson), Chloe (Head) and armed military man Jack (Hassan). They're equally bemused by the mystery of how they got there and, together plus the other three surviviors they meet, they try and piece things back together from their fractured memories. This is the cue for many snatched flashbacks of the events that appear to have led to this point. The question is can they get to the bottom of it before their hooded, blindfolded pursuer (a silent, really rather menacing Danny Dyer) gouges their eyes out?
You have to admire a film that provides such obvious lines to critics. Disfiguring and mutilation in the name of revenge? Yeah, Danny Dyer should be used to that. Ho ho. Eyes gouged out? You'll wish yours had been before the opening credits. Arf arf. The real problems though are the the script (a document that contains wisdom such as "I know you're scared. We all are"), actors that really can't (if there's a worse drunk act than Mawson's I desperately want to see it) and a lack of budget that makes it look like 28 Days Later filmed by the Children's Film Fundation. Indeed, take away the establishing shots and the oft-repeated flashbacks and you're probably looking at around 60 minutes of actual story. Even when the big reveal takes place (moderately predictable and oft-used but still quite smart), it's finished with a scene that's supposed to suggest beard-stroking cleverness but, instead, effectively undermines the whole blooming point of the film.
We want to like British films, we really do. Also (and whisper this soft), I don't mind Danny Dyer at all. Indeed, I believe I tipped him for big things several years ago for another publication. Why though does he keep making stuff like this (and on what appears to be a weekly basis) when his rough and ready charm could see him take several steps up? If it's not already too late, the boy's damn close to becoming a caricature. Someone give him (and Naqvi) a decent project and let's see what they can really do.