Wah-Wah

Richard E Grant's "autobiopic" is an illustration of Tolstoy's adage that while happy families resemble one another, each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way. Grant's childhood in Swaziland as the son of a top colonial administrator (in education) could have been idyllic, but the idyll was shattered by his mother's infidelity and eventual desertion of the family and his father's severe alcoholism. Yet Grant could not stop loving either of them, and in the movie he seems to be saying, "yes, it hurt at the time, but I understand – and forgive." So despite the trauma, Grant gives us a fair account of his parents, lightly disguised as the Comptons, of their love for each other and their love for him.

The second striking feature of the movie is the portrait of a small but immensely snobbish colonial society that was about to disappear. Appearances are everything so clandestine adultery is condoned but divorce very much disapproved of. Outsiders (for example Harry Compton's new American wife Ruby) are scarcely tolerated. This stern moral code was hardly needed to impress the natives, who were polygamous. The choice of "Camelot" as the entertainment put on by the denizens of the white social club for the Independence celebrations is ironically appropriate – for some of the whites it was indeed Camelot, and now it was about to end.

Another theme of Grant's is growing up, generally a painful experience with or without dysfunctional parents. Here he is greatly helped by a fine performance from Nicholas Hoult as the 14 year old Richard ("Ralph" in the film). Miranda Richardson as the errant mother and Gabriel Byrnes as the father are also excellent and there are strong performances from the supporting cast, particularly Julie Walters as a deserted wife and Celia Imrie as the impossibly snobbish High Commissioner's wife. I'm not sure why, but Emily Watson's Ruby was only so-so. The people of Swaziland don't get much of a look-in – this is white mischief after all, but the actor who plays the warm-hearted local doctor (John Matshikiza?) should get an honorable mention.

Since independence Swaziland has not done too well; according to Wikipedia it now has 39% of the adult population with HIV and the world's lowest life expectancy -32.6 years. The combined rule of the present king and "Great She-Elephant" (his mother) has not been a conspicuous success. The colonial days, which took the light form of a British Protectorate, must seem like Camelot even to the Swazis. This movie seems to have captured the atmosphere of the time as well as the pains of growing up.

Saw Wah-Wah at the Edinburgh International Film Festival – this is a really wonderful film. The story is told from the point of view of Ralph, a child witnessing the breakdown of his parent's marriage and dealing with his father's alcoholism and hasty remarriage. Both the colonial life and the adult relationships are seen, unflatteringly, from Ralph's perspective, and this could easily have been just another caricature of colonial decadence and the end of empire. In fact, despite the sombre story, it has humour and warmth as well as emotional impact. It also looks stunning: it is hard to believe this is Richard Grant's first film. All the cast give strong performances, even if most of them are hardly playing against type: Celia Imry could probably do the "upper-class bitch" and Julie Walters the "blowsy but good-hearted neighbour" in their sleep: but the core relationship between Ralph and his father Harry, played by Gabriel Byrne, is just electrifying. Byrne is totally convincing as the dedicated colonial administrator whose unresolved feelings for his first wife and fears for his future after independence drive him to alcoholism and nearly wreck his second marriage (to the also excellent Emily Watson). According to the press the film has yet to find a distributor: let's hope it is quickly picked up – this is ten times better than any of this summer's blockbusters, and deserves to be seen.

Wah-Wah (Richard E. Grant, 2005) is a delightful film about writer-director Grant's childhood during the final throes of colonial Swaziland. Balancing fraughtness - as his alter-ego's mother (Miranda Richardon) leaves and his father (Gabriel Byrne) descends into alcoholism - with superbly judged comic passages, it transports the viewer into the head of the young protagonist, perfectly articulating his feelings without the need for speechifying or voice-over. Such a feat is testament to the economy and precision of the script, Grant's subtle but expressive direction and Nicholas Hoult's excellent performance as the 14-year-old Ralph Compton. That Hoult can hold his own against Emily Watson, the most gifted dramatic performer of her generation, is as high praise as I can think of. Watson is ideal, as ever, playing the boy's ballsy American step-mum, who's threatening to turn high society on its ear if she can stand the scotch-swilling company long enough. The film does suffer from a dearth of geographic context in the mid-section and has some structural problems in the second half that seem to saddle it with several false endings, but it's clever, subtle and formidably unsentimental, with superb acting across the board. Its more painful exchanges have the unmistakable ring of truth and grim memory, and there's a great set of scenes in which Hoult sees A Clockwork Orange and starts idly apeing McDowell's eyeliner-wearing sociopath. I really liked it.

Forget the sniping review on this site. This is a labour of love and is the true story of a young boy growing up in end-of-the-colonial-era Swaziland. His loving but alcoholic father, his faithless mother and the various other upper crust Brits are bang on the button. The film was made in a very short time, came in under budget and gives us some delightful performances. Both the boys, Zac Fox and Nick Holt, are excellent. Gabriel Byrne, Emily Watson, Celia Imrie and National Treasure Julie Walters are great. The story is told economically in just 90 or so minutes. The scenery is beautiful. What a pleasant change from over praised short-arse Hollywood 'icons' running away from explosions. Forget MI3.Go see this. Then read Richard's book 'The Wah-wah diaries.'

It was fairly brave of Richard E Grant to 'come out' as a director when acting would be such a secure option for him; particularly now as the role of director, especially of relatively small independent films such as this, involves all the hustling traditionally taken care of by the producer. Although he has been low-profile as an actor for some time, paying the rent by sticking to supporting roles ( lots of them, though), at the same time he has been fighting to get this semi-autobiographical saga up to the screen. A look at a disintegrating family could be set anywhere, but this is specific to Swaziland, where the collapse of the British Empire and the end of Deference mirror the uncertainties of young Ralph Compton's life. As a little boy (Zachary Fox) he finds himself in the back seat while his mother has it off with her husband's best friend; then as an adolescent rebel (Nicholas Hoult of 'About a Boy') he has to cope with mum's desertion and dad's alcoholism while discovering 'A Clockwork Orange' and experimenting with becoming a droog. There are so many concurrent plots that every time you think, Ah, so it's that kind of film, the layers shift again. Coming-of-age, end-of-empire, adults being stupid and cruel, the class system and white supremacy turning sclerotic; these elements weave and thrust against the African landscape and inbred British colonialism. This is the world that the kids will inherit. Celia Imrie and Fenella Woolgar are a joy to watch as they 'do' the snooty dames with such natural outraged dignity, but the surprise is to see the so-English Emily Watson make such a convincing low-class Manhattanite. The old ways are going out the window, serenaded as they go by the kind of lush, romantic soundtrack that also had had its time, and adds another taste of verisimilitude. Comparisons are useful, not odious, and it's fair to relate this kind of breathless well-paced ensemble production to Altman. One last touch of the Old Ways: it stops when it gets to the ... CLIFF HANLEY