Rocks – first look review

Film­mak­er Sarah Gavron con­tin­ues to make impas­sioned work about and along­side women in Lon­don with her new film Rocks, a sor­row­ful yet full-heart­ed depic­tion of a young girl at break­ing point.

For Shola (Bukky Bakray), or Rocks as she is know, best friend Sumaya (Kosar Ali) and the rest of the girls in their inner cir­cle, the first day back at their east Lon­don school after the sum­mer hol­i­days offers few sur­pris­es. On Rocks’ return home, how­ev­er, a brief note and an enve­lope with a small amount of cash inside is all her moth­er has left behind for her and younger broth­er Emmanuel. Both chil­dren must then deal with their mother’s aban­don­ment, and not for the first time in their lives. Yet the ques­tion of her return seems far more uncer­tain on this occasion.

Rocks earned her nick­name defend­ing her best friend. She is clear­ly used to pro­tect­ing those she loves, but the chal­lenge of cop­ing as the sole provider for Emmanuel and her­self begins to prove too much. Sumaya offers sup­port but Rocks’ stub­born pride and stead­fast emo­tion­al bar­ri­ers won’t allow her in. The dis­tance that grows between them only serves to harm Rocks’ fur­ther, as she skips school, becomes friends with a trou­bling new girl and dodges the social work­ers hov­er­ing at her front door. 

The film boasts an impres­sive cast of fresh, young, non-pro­fes­sion­al actors who bring noth­ing but sin­cer­i­ty and warmth to the nar­ra­tive, and Gavron doc­u­ments their chem­istry with ease and grav­i­ty. Obser­va­tions of the friend­ship group at their most relaxed take place on a rooftop some­where over­look­ing the city, with one scene in par­tic­u­lar beau­ti­ful­ly scored to Kokoroko’s Abusey Junc­tion – poet­ic jazz that bal­ances the soul­ful with the melan­choly just as Gavron’s film does. D’Angelou Osei Kissiedu is a par­tic­u­lar high­light as young Emmanuel, so charm­ing, wit­ty and with an endear­ing affec­tion for every­thing around him that couldn’t pos­si­bly have been script­ed. The rela­tion­ships serve to ele­vate the solem­ni­ty of the tragedy, bounc­ing lights in the deep­est dark­ness, try­ing to keep Rocks’ safe in their glow.

There is some­thing joy­ous about the exclu­siv­i­ty of the girls’ jokes and their short­hand with one anoth­er, all wrapped up in the slick­ness of Lon­don slang that invites those famil­iar inside and keeps all oth­ers firm­ly at arm’s length. Even the unspo­ken words, the glances that cut so clean­ly between the char­ac­ters reveal depths of inti­ma­cy and cama­raderie. Exam­ples include the flash of embar­rass­ment on Sumaya’s face dur­ing a dance class, the ​“I’ll do it if you do it” look shared between teenage best friends, and the down­cast eyes of young girls pow­er­less to help a sit­u­a­tion that is so much big­ger than them.

“Close your eyes, think of every­thing hap­py and keep breath­ing in and out,” Emmanuel says to Rocks in a moment of des­per­a­tion, with a ten­der wis­dom beyond his years. It is all she can do in the mine­field of her dai­ly life. It’s a film of great empa­thy and love, as Gavron cham­pi­ons and pro­tects the sheer resilience on show.