Here's a very strange beast indeed, writes Donald Clarke
Dan Reed's feature debut comes from that tantalisingly disreputable class of revenge thriller that also includes such pictures as Straw Dogs, Irréversibleand Last House on the Left. This low-budget British thriller may not be up to the standard of those films, but, punctuated by a nagging score and cleanly shot on digital video, Straightheads is made with sufficient flair to suggest that its director has a future in the world of exploitation entertainment.
There are some delightfully gruesome touches, and the accumulating tension within the stalking sequences is sufficient to cause fingernails to dig deep into the arms of chairs. Even the unlikely romantic pairing of Gillian Anderson and Danny Dyer - Princess Margaret meets the Artful Dodger - works better than one could reasonably expect.
So a hearty recommendation, then? Well, sadly, no. Here's the thing: this film makes absolutely no sense whatsoever.
None. Not a jot. Combining absurd coincidences with consistent outbursts of irrational behaviour, the script descends into such paroxysms of absurdity that it takes on the quality of a work of surrealism.
The puzzlement begins in the very first scene, which finds Anderson - surely not short of a date - seducing the boy (Dyer) who has come to install her security system and inviting him to a party in the country. After the posh orgy, at which we meet several apparently significant characters for the first and last time, Anderson and Dyer anger some local ruffians and suffer severe retribution. She is raped and he is badly scarred.
Some weeks later, Anderson is driving towards her late father's house when, in the eighth of many such coincidences, she just happens upon the leader of the gang. Fortunately, her dad has left a rifle lying around the place, so, after persuading Danny to place surveillance cameras in the villains' lair, she sets out to dispense some improvised justice.
What? Sorry? The shambolic, unfinished state of the script almost derails Straightheads, but, clocking in at a very tidy 80 minutes, it moves just quickly enough to avoid seeming totally ludicrous. Still, Dan Reed, clearly a decent director, may, noting the example of his characters, wish to drag Dan Reed, a hack of a writer, out to the forest and beat him to within an inch of his life.
