Glasgow Kiss: The Near Room (1995)

A wealth of low-budget British movies found their way into multiplexes during the ’90s. Now, a quarter of a century later, most are borderline extinct. Dave checks out one of the better ones…

It’s strange to think that just over twenty-five years ago, you could head down to your local multiplex and catch a low-budget British indie flick. With maverick producers and risk-taking distributors like Stephen Woolley and Metrodome around, the ’90s were a golden age for homegrown oddities.

A quarter of a century on, many of these films have evolved into what I’d lovingly call prime Schlock Pit fodder. Despite them enjoying a couple of weeks on three-dozen or so cinema screens, the bulk were abandoned in the wake of their home video release and exist as barely remembered follies of a bygone era. George Sluizer’s Crimetime (1996) is among the most fascinating, and the Liverpool shot Downtime (1997) with Paul McGann is worth rediscovering too. Other titles – such as The Innocent Sleep (1995), Hard Men (1996),and Resurrection Man (1998) – all appeared on first generation DVDs, replete with incorrect aspect ratios.

It is THE NEAR ROOM (1995), however, that’s the standout member of this domestic wave. It’s far from a masterpiece – it’s prone to contrivance and characters are sketched in crayon – but visually it’s an impressive piece of work that rarely lets go of your attention.

For director David Hayman – best known for roles in Sid & Nancy (1986) and Rob Roy (1995) – The Near Room almost didn’t happen:

“I was told we wouldn’t be able to pay the wages for the first week of filming,” he revealed to the Daily Record. “It was very frustrating, but I never lost hope. Looking at it now, I can see holes that I couldn’t do anything about because of the budget.” [1]

Screenwriter Robert Murphy had come up with The Near Room‘s concept as early as 1991, going on to approach Hayman two years later after crossing paths at Glasgow Mayfest. Money wasn’t forthcoming, though, and it was only when the Glasgow Film Fund stepped in that they managed to cobble together the £910,000 budget needed to get the cameras rolling. A twenty-seven day shoot got the film in the can – but the journey to get a half-decent release was only just beginning…

The notices that followed The Near Room‘s London Film Festival premiere were largely positive. Sadly, Hayman, Murphy, and producer Leonard Crooks still faced an uphill battle to find distribution. Indeed, The Near Room spent a lonely two years on the U.K. festival circuit before Metrodome finally gave it a fifteen screen release in Scotland and a promise to go nationwide if the film demonstrated broad appeal.

Personally, I consider Alan Morrison’s review in The List to have done more harm than good: “Britain’s answer to Se7en (1995)” this ain’t. What we do have is a bleakly compelling trip into the dark recesses of child pornography, blackmail, and murder. Adrian Dunbar plays Charlie Colquhoun, a journalist with a floundering career (“Five years New York. One year in Berlin. Too long in London.”). When he was sixteen he fathered a daughter called Tommy who was committed to foster care, but now he’s about to be reunited with her – albeit in circumstances that will push his sanity to the very limit.

It would be easy to tap out of The Near Room after the first couple of reels, citing total bewilderment or a desire to cleanse yourself of its troublesome theme. Patience and persistence pay off: Kevin Rowley’s night time photography is mesmeric, and there are enough genuine quirks to stave any feeling of weary desperation. From James McAvoy’s teenager obsessed with Mohammed Ali, to Andy Serkis’ sleazy pimp – the film is anchored by a cast of colourful creations who bring a little light into the pervasive darkness. Dunbar is brilliant as well. Today associated purely with a cop show, he’s an actor with a legacy of fine performances to his credit, in films like Hear My Song (1991), The Crying Game (1992), and – yep – The Near Room.