In the latest film in his Small Axe anthology, Steve McQueen brings us something extremely different from Mangrove. Instead of the intensity of systematic racism, McQueen and co-writer Courttia Newland (Look to the Sky) bring us a tidal wave of musical and sexual rapture. For those looking to update their Spotify playlist, you will not be disappointed, the film is bursting with a variety of 70’s reggae, soul, and most importantly an eye-opener into the genre that is lover’s rock.
Lovers Rock is a beautiful love story set in Ladbroke Grove, West London, over a single evening at a house party in 1980. It follows young people of first and second-generation West Indian backgrounds, who show up handing 50p entry fee on the door, paying extra for food and drink from the kitchen, hanging out on sofas covered in liners in the back garden for intimate interludes, but most importantly, they dance to soul and reggae for hours in a rammed front room to the sound systems shuddering lover’s rock. For those accustomed to house parties, this is the closest experience to one felt so accurately on screen.
Martha (Amarah-Jae St Aubyn) is a subdued and nervous yet excited youth who, with her friend Patty (Shaniqua Okwok) attends the party that shows the development of the two main characters. Once they arrive, the girls have to negotiate their status and assess the possibilities of dealing with the valour offered by various men. Among these is Franklyn, played by Micheal Ward (Topboy) and his friend Reggie (Francis Lovehall), for as the film progresses, a love story blossoms between Franklyn and Martha.
The seamless continuation of a party spanning over six hours, and with it, the internal mechanisms of love, music and compassion, are well met in the one hour 10 minutes running time. There is a beautiful irony about this piece whereby nothing and yet everything seems to be happening. It is dominated by one continuous party scene which also contains darker undercurrents of racism and sexual assault.
Yet the non-narrative stream of pleasure and joy in the dancing scenes creates an emotional connection, especially when songs such as Carl Douglas’s ‘Kung Fu Fighting’ or Janet Kay’s classic ‘Silly Games’ ignites a reaction similar to those of little children performing the Macarena.
McQueen takes on the realism of being a immigrant in a majoritarian white Britain, for the ending scenes show us the wider world in which the characters live in; their bubble is burst, they switch back to showing us their code-switching and the superhuman energy that involves sneaking back into the house in the early morning and attending church straightaway.
The film can be likened to a film score, every LP takes us on a journey and Lover’s Rock does just that. In its marvel, the period and location are evoked with precise skill and the romance is somewhat relatable to all young 20-somethings. So get this on, cure the lockdown blues by turning the volume up and having a boogie – for music is the true cure.
5 stars
