The U.K. mod
revival of the late 1970s and 1980s was a retro-minded movement, albeit meshed
a little with then-current trends: a bit of contemporary punk, a bit of mid-century
Teddy Boy grease, all swirled together with a swagger that peaked in 1979’s
time-capsule rock opera “Quadrophenia.” An anodyne Manchester-to-Brighton road
movie that somewhat wishfully imagines a strain of enduring mod enthusiasm in
today’s teens, “The Pebble and the Boy” forgets the present-day touch that made
the earlier revival hip, presenting us with a pair of Zoomers on scooters who
feel wholly middle-aged in conception and sensibility. The result is an
exercise in retro-upon-retro nostalgia that feels as ill-defined as a Xerox of
a Xerox, though die-hard dad mods will thrill to its styling and soundtrack.
“Once a mod,
always a mod” is the mantra repeated by multiple characters in the course of
writer-director Chris Green’s leanly plotted film, which, even across a scant
80-minute running time, manages to repeat itself in more ways than that alone.
The story, such as it is, is almost wholly determined by the wavering will and
temperament of its 19-year-old protagonist, John (Patrick McNamee), a
semi-intrepid man on a mission who throws in the towel every quarter-hour or so
just to keep things from wrapping up too fast. The winsome presence of
feature-film newcomer McNamee keeps the character more amiable than the script
might suggest, though either way, he’s something of a cipher, with feelings and
motivations as floppy as his center-parted bangs.
The real star
of the show, as it happens, is a gleamingly preserved Lambretta scooter,
painted the most royal of blues and adorned with at least two dozen sparkly
rearview mirrors. It’s John’s inheritance from his recently deceased father, an
original mod revivalist who, in his salad days, once led a bikers’ protest
against Margaret Thatcher on the streets of Brighton. Straitlaced Mancunian
college student John, who has never so much as sat on a scooter and can’t tell
the Jam from Secret Affair, has hitherto paid little mind to his dad’s wilder
past. But there’s an urn of ashes to be scattered, and the mod mecca of
Brighton is where they belong, so over his mother’s protests, he straddles the
Lambretta and hits the road.
Cue an
episodic narrative in which bike and script alike run into sporadic patches of
engine trouble. In the first, John is bailed out by a mate of his dad’s, whose
spunky tomboy daughter Nicki (Sacha Parkinson) joins him for the ride. That the
supposed romantic chemistry bubbling between them never plays out as much more
than a chummy brother-sister bond is a distraction, though Parkinson — so
memorable in Daniel Kokotajlo’s searing Jehovah’s Witness drama “Apostasy” — is
a welcome enlivening force, even when saddled with a one-note cool-girl
stereotype of a character. She doesn’t seem half so interested in John as she
does in the pair of Paul Weller concert tickets found in his dad’s parka
pocket, and who can really blame her?
Weller’s spiky songs — along with the mournful title track, accompanying a montage of melancholy beachside moping in Brighton — form the bulk of a hit-filled period soundtrack that must have taken a chunk out of this modest indie’s budget. Given the film’s primarily nostalgic audience pull, you can’t say it’s not money well spent. (A handful of cameos from mod-revival figures wholly unrecognizable to non-acolytes — plus Patsy Kensit, also an associate producer — make it clear the film is only paying lip service to youth culture.) Still, the pinch is felt elsewhere in a road movie that never gives in to the thrill of open asphalt, with John’s handsome two-wheeled steed remaining little more than a posing prop in scene after scene. “Quadrophenia” is blatantly referenced via a late-breaking, swiftly resolved plot twist, but the reminder does “The Pebble and the Boy” few favors. Like a fully accessorized mod scooter, it’s festooned with rear-view mirrors — so many that it can hardly see the road ahead.
No comments:
Post a Comment