THE DEVIL WEARS PRIMARK

Congrats to Red Road for the five nominations at the British Independent Film Awards. It’s always good to see something out of Scotland travel further south than Gretna.

Today’s rags feature a crop of reviews. Like this slightly reverential one in the Herald

www.theherald.co.uk/goingout/72913.html

and, surprise, surprise, this sniffy one in the Hootsmon

thescotsman.scotsman.com/features.cfm?id=1582642006

Not to take anything away from the film, because I’ve yet to see it, in the end Red Road will only play on a fraction of British screens, competing against slicker, bigger budget movies. Just like the now forgotten Frozen did, where Shirley ‘icky bicky’ Henderson did her squeaky shoes-pointing-together routine while glued to a CCTV screen and wandering about in a trance when she wasn’t curling up in a foetal position having issues. I just hope Kate Dickie turns in something better because it’s a crime the way she’s been patronised in more than one of the rags for her ‘committed’ performance.

From what I’ve read about RR, there’s the predictable charge of it being another slice of grimy Glasgow realism. But then you can always rely on the hacks to cut the legs off any movie that dares to get above itself. Some critics have even had a go at Andrea Arnold for not coming from Shettleston, as if to say how dare she come here and make a film?

It’s the fate of every movie shot in Glasgow to be palmed off with adjectives like gritty, manky, Loachian, social worker wank. Meanwhile Peter Bradshaw comes in his shorts every time some Iranian teenager learns to push the on button on a camcorder. If Red Road had been Latvian or made by Shane Meadows, say, you can bet every journo in the land would be praising it to the heavens, instead of patting Andrea Arnold on the head and giving her a wee silver star on her jotter.

There’s a feeling of déjà vu about this because every time someone makes a film in Scotland that doesn’t have Tom Hanks in it, the filmmaker concerned has to shoulder the burden of blame, not achievement, for their effort. It’s like for about five minutes the entire Scottish film industry holds its breath and pins its hopes on that one film and woe betide all of us if some London hack puts the boot in.

A lot of column inches about RR have been devoted to it's Danish input. Well, given we don’t have a single film sales outfit in Scotland, good luck to anybody who latches on to Zentropa or Trust Film. It’s a sad day when this country has to rely on Denmark to get a film made, let alone any kind of exposure.

Let’s see if it lasts longer in the pictures than The Devil Wears Prada.