Every community in Britain has it’s outcasts; it’s square pegs. The Smiths made music for/about the sensitive, ultra-shy types. ‘A Room For Romeo Brass’ deals with another breed.

Brief synopsis: The main character is twelve-year old Romeo, sharing his life with his single mum, nineteen year-old sister Ladine, and his best friend, next-door neighbour, and sufferer-of-unspecified-back problem Knocks. When Romeo sticks up for his pal in a fight, he’s rescued from a kicking by twenty-five year-old Morell, a man-child loner who dresses in army surplus gear and falls in love at first sight when he meets Ladine. The clueless Morell soon chums along with both boys, using them to try and win Ladine’s heart.

So, with the Nottingham accents and the swearing, the council housing and Morrel’s amusing behaviour, it’s so far so working-class comedy, like the Royle Family – and as far as that stuff goes, it’s good. Meadows can do reality, can see the humour in people’s speech, can make the swearing as amusing as it can be in real life. But then the film takes a welcome dark turn.

But, before you go thinking paedophilia, it isn’t that, thank fuck, but it’s just as scary. As Morell starts to reveal his darker side we’re faced with a guy so far removed from reality – obsessed with the army, spouting film references in conversation – that he seems split between being a harmless laughing stock and a mad, cruel, vengeful psycho.

So, with Romeo and Knocks’ friendship being fragmented by Morell, and Morell’s dark side having revealed itself, all you need is Romeo’s estranged dad, Frank appearing on the scene and you sense the story sliding towards violence and tragedy. The inevitability doesn’t make the ending any less shocking.

So that’s it, then. But what makes this film special is something you can’t translate into a review. While this may not be a puzzle-film like the three I mentioned in the intro, Romeo has as many layers, as many possible meanings, as any of those celebrated films. You discover that when you read the few reviews there are and see the scribes missing (what you see as) the point.

Meadows gives us a sympathetic portrayal of a man while, at the same time, never letting us know – in concrete terms- whether Morrell is out-and-out psycho or screwed-up sad case. In one confrontation scene – a classic, one of the best – we’re scared of Morrel and worried for his potential victim, only to find that our sympathies change with a camera angle and a change of expression. Meadows is helped by a fantastic performance from Paddy Considine, in his first film. In a parallel world where the goodies won, Considine would’ve been the wild card at the Oscars, with his name in headlines when this little film from Nottingham beat the big boys.

Then, besides this ambiguity, we’re left wondering if this is some kind of father-figure drama. The women in the film, the mums and sisters, are emotionally strong and sympathetic, while the men are selfish, and eihter cowardly, violent, or, in Morrel’s case, both.

And what about the ending? We have one man seemingly sacrificing himelf without even knowing he’s doing it, or is he just unable to react through fear? Does another man become the conquering hero, the ‘real’ man, or is he just a bigger bully? Cruelty from weird outsiders like Morrell is restricted by their weirdness, their isolation, while other, more sociable types, can live a whole life hurting others.

Anyway, watch this film. You’ll probably have your own perspective. By the ‘Blue Velvet’-ish unsettlingly happy ending, you’re left asking more questions. It gets you thinking, it gets you wondering what happens to the characters and caring about them, and it gives you the funniest seduction scene of all time. And for those reasons it’s one of the best British films of all time, and if the media could pry itself away from gangsta-crap lad fantasies, maybe more people would be aware of it.

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Iain Bahlaj lives in Fife, Scotland. His short stories have appeared in Front & Centre, Fife Fringe, Chapman, Pulp.net and The Macallan Shorts 3 and 5. His novel, 'Tilt' was published in 2003 (Pulp Books, London). The short story 'Sugar' is a prequel to 'Tilt.' Iain currently works as a night-shift shelf-stacker, while working on a novel about vampires, in this spare time. To read more about Iain on the Showcase section of this site, click here

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