Bashment

The sexy cover art will draw you in, but what awaits is an exercise in perseverance: can you withstand 90 minutes of sledgehammer subtle Rikki Beadle-Blair berating you with his (albeit worthy) message: we should all just get along.

No one seems to have told Beadle-Blair that film is about showing, not telling. And boy, does he tell us. Over, and over, and over again, the unfortunate cast reciting endless, repetitious scenes on the subject of being black and gay, and being black, and not gay. And being white and gay and not black. All with lashing of cod urban slang that would make Ali G blush.

Cinema ought to be fun, or at least artfully thought-provoking, but writer and director Rikki Beadle-Blair has taken the BLUDGEON THE AUDIENCE WITH YOUR MESSAGE route. That'll work!

At least Beadle-Blair manages to stay behind the camera for this one (after disgracing his earlier effort KickOff with his excruciating shtick) but his influence here is all too obvious. The dialogue is embarrassing and the denouement laughable. Another talented young cast wasted on a mediocre script, with a crash course in amateur cinematography.

It takes real talent to screw up a film about a gay rapper, with a cute young cast. Leave it to Rikki Beadle-Blair to achieve that.

Like his gay football stinker KickOff, Bashment was a massive flop on its release, and even the London Lesbian and Gay Film Festival declined to show either film.

The starting point of Bashment proposes an intriguing question: Can music be an instrument of Hate? At a first look, yes. The rap battles of MC JJ (QQQQQ) seems to lead to the aggression of his beloved Orlando/Ollie (Joel Dommett). But, as the film evolves, we see different questions been aroused. Music is also an instrument of liberation of our instincts, however closeted they are. It's difficult to attribute to music the sources of violence, they are presented inside us, and music can even be a ways of sublimate these feelings. Of course, for some it will be interpreted literally. But does this allow to censorship of this glorious way of liberate our most hidden instincts. From this point of view, the film has a lot to say. The first part leads us to think music should be censured, in profit of the whole and as a meaning for being politically correct. But as the film evolves, we see a more complex the question. Even those who should fight some kind of music tend to be lenient to its calming and directional effects, and, by the end of the film, the feeling towards music, however blatantly aggressive it may seem to be, are changed. We can understand the calming and congregational function of music. Alas, I'm a supporter of some directional music, at least in what concern lyrics. Apology to crime must be investigated.