True Things

Adapt­ed from the 2010 debut nov­el ​‘True Things About Me’ by Deb­o­rah Kay Davies, Har­ry Wootliff​’s doomed-pair­ing dra­ma is brought com­pelling­ly to life by its two messy, com­plex leads. But while for­mal­ly intrigu­ing and intu­itive­ly shot by Ash­ley Con­nor, the film’s depic­tion of a Mil­len­ni­al in cri­sis doesn’t seem to offer any­thing new to chew on.

Thir­tysome­thing Kate (Ruth Wil­son) is a peren­ni­al­ly bored woman liv­ing in Rams­gate, work­ing in a ben­e­fits office and strug­gling to find a rea­son to get up in the morn­ing. Lunchtimes are spent nib­bling on egg and cress sand­wich­es, evenings being lec­tured by pas­sive aggres­sive friend Alli­son (Hay­ley Squires) at the pub. After an enig­mat­ic claimant (Tom Burke) flirts with her, stir­ring a long-dor­mant pas­sion in the pit of her stom­ach, the pair soon begin a rela­tion­ship which nei­ther know how to feel good in. Like the sweaty, vod­ka-breath kiss­es they exchange in dark cor­ners, the nov­el­ty soon wears off. Yet nei­ther knows when to quit.

Burke, or ​‘Blond,’ goes from telling Kate her breath stinks one moment to say­ing, ​“You com­plete me” the next. Slob­by, charm­ing and dan­ger­ous all at once, he bares his soul – and his bot­tom, numer­ous times – but is him­self run­ning from a trau­mat­ic child­hood and is clear­ly unable to com­mit to the kind of sta­ble rela­tion­ship Kate yearns for. Despite his bad clothes, poor­ly bleached ​’do and recent stint in prison, Blond attracts Kate, a slight­ly per­vy dis­trac­tion from her grey routine.

Their chem­istry is pal­pa­ble: she’s high on infat­u­a­tion and con­stant­ly on the hunt for her next demean­ing hit. Her pur­suit of Blond is a painful act of self-fla­gel­la­tion result­ing from nobody in her life being equipped to sup­port or under­stand her, every new preg­nan­cy or wed­ding announce­ment on her Insta­gram feed reminds her of her solutitude.

The prob­lem is, every­thing about True Things feels a bit dat­ed. Its explo­ration of pow­er dynam­ics, female sex­u­al appetites, gaslight­ing and emo­tion­al manip­u­la­tion are noth­ing new. Sure, these things are hap­pen­ing today, but the entire thing feels like a buzz­word from half a decade ago. Kate is a messy, fun­ny, intel­li­gent, mod­ern female pro­tag­o­nist: great! Now what?

After over an hour of inti­mate­ly pho­tographed nat­u­ral­ism, the film los­es its focus when Kate’s world begins to crum­ble around her – lit­er­al­ly – and mul­ti­ple fake-out scenes start to real­ly spoon-feed you about the protagonist’s men­tal state. Still, the gen­er­al atmos­phere is com­pelling. The tacky kitsch of Rams­gate, with its squawk­ing gulls and neon lights, only exac­er­bates True Things’ pre­oc­cu­pa­tion with the unbear­able cacoph­o­ny of mod­ern life. Alex Baranowski’s prick­ling, pins-and-nee­dles string score exter­nalis­es Kate’s nerves, oscil­lat­ing between excite­ment and pain. When we’re des­per­ate for Kate to step away from this hor­rid rela­tion­ship, a claus­tro­pho­bic 1:33 ratio locks us into her end­less cycle of humiliation.

Wil­son and Burke have plen­ty to do with their well-writ­ten roles, but when you zoom out, it’s a strug­gle to under­stand the film’s rai­son d’être. Well made and with relata­bil­i­ty and stark inten­si­ty, it’s by no means a dis­ap­point­ing film. But with the zeit­geist now so attuned to red flags in rela­tion­ships, its mes­sage arrives a lit­tle out of time.

Sup­port our inde­pen­dent jour­nal­ism and receive month­ly film rec­om­men­da­tions, exclu­sive essays and more