Kelly + Victor

I was interested in this because it was mostly shot locally. It's a slow burner with some really weak scenes along the way, but it builds in masochistic tension quite impressively and has a well worked climax (smirk). Campbell-Hughes doesn't carry with her the normal type of sexual charisma that erotic films usually need. Instead she's got this subversive thing that keeps you on edge. There's something 'everyman' about Julian Morris that makes you identify with him but he can occasionally border on the amateur in some of the weaker scenes. A mixed but worthy addition to the UK indie scene.

I'm not sure why this had to be set in Liverpool, the two main protagonists where clearly not from L'pool, terrible accents, (London, Ireland). If they wanted a poverty settings there is way more in London, the it's grim up North tired cliche was not required . There is nothing here you won't have seen before, predictable and attempting to shock.

Interesting, fairly original central plot, but there is a large degree of inevitability about the conclusion. The central relationship in the movie is reasonably interesting and not at all the average male-female relationship. However, this gives you a fair indication of how it is going to end. This, and some other scenes. This significantly reduces the impact of the final scene. The plot is also a bit unfocused. Too many sub-plots that go nowhere. Too much drifting at times. More time should have been spent on the main characters and their relationship, and less on secondary characters and events. Decent performances, however.

I saw this at the 2012 London Film Festival. Those who saw 'Donkey Punch' may remember Julian Morris, the pretty young thing who delivered the titular blow. He's bulked up a bit since then - in fact he looks really good - but don't expect to see 'Donkey Punch' levels of nakedness from him in 'Kelly + Victor', as despite its plethora of sex scenes Morris' only real nudity is curled up on the shower floor sobbing - not v erotic! Based on a novel by Niall Griffiths, the film is a dreadfully slow-moving tale about a romance that goes wrong because of the woman's brutality in the bedroom. It's full of filler material that has little to do with the main plot line, such as a trip to buy drugs in Wales that comes totally from left field and is barely mentioned again, and pictures of some seagulls. It would have been far better to have concentrated on the central relationship, dumped the extraneous stuff and been content with a shorter film.

I saw this last night, and was impressed by the grittiness, good acting and directing. There seems to be a misguided notion in certain circles of British and European Indie film-making circles that a messed up tragedy is "higher art" than something which has a more positive outcome. Why, oh why would I actually WANT to see a movie which offers very little other than a display of lost individuals who make idiotic decisions? How does that enrich my life? Does it tell me that there are such moronic individuals on the planet, and if so, why would I want to waste my time watching a depressing movie, how does that help these actual people? It does not. So then again, why would one watch this drivel? Like Breaking The Waves, it is a pathetic romance of being messed up, which belongs in the rubbish heap of misguided notions, like the one that you have to be tortured to be a worthwhile artist. Give it a miss, go see something that is both gritty, intelligent as well as enlightened and uplifting. Why wouldn't you want that for yourself, I know I do. The movie gets 0/10 for plot and 8/10 for the good acting. Pity the film-maker was so obsessed with an obsolete notion.

"Kelly + Victor" is the story of a sadomasochistic relationship between a young couple who meet in a nightclub then go back to hers for sex. It's a thin little story tarted up with shots of nature and landscape between the bouts of not very pleasant passion. It's a film that shows real promise, (director Kieran Evans won a BAFTA for it), but is too concerned with softening the blow by making this into an 'art' movie complete with visit to an art gallery. I think it would have been a better picture had a more direct approach been taken. Julian Morris is outstanding as Victor; he is a naturally physical performer who throws himself completely into the role. If Antonia Campbell-Huges is less impressive as Kelly it may be because her character never feels real. Her addiction to kinky sex feels to me like a scriptwriter's affectation. It's a bleak, grim little picture, very 21st century kitchen-sink and it made me long for the less explicit but more dramatically satisfying British films of the early 1960's.