Twenty-four years ago, Richard Curtis wrote a romantic-comedy set against the backdrop of his home neighbourhood in London. That film, Notting Hill, became a modern classic of the genre -although it did receive fair criticism over its apparent whitewashing of a notably diverse part of the city. It’s a running theme sadly that movies set in London don’t often reflect the cultural make-up of that city -which is a far richer cultural mosaic than so much media allows it to be depicted as. And Raine Allen-Miller is determined to showcase that with her spontaneous, wonderful little rom-com now out on Disney+, Rye Lane -like Curtis’ film a love letter, but a more honest one, to a particular unique corner of the English capital.
It’s also just a really good love story. Set in South London in the predominantly black districts of Peckham and Brixton, and featuring the eponymous Rye Lane Market, the movie fixates on Dom (David Jonsson) and Yas (Vivian Oparah) two young people reeling from recent break-ups who meet by chance in the unisex toilet of an art gallery where their mutual friend is showcasing his frightful collection of lip paintings (his sequel series displayed later in the film is even more off-putting). They start hanging out and chatting as they wander through their neighbourhood in the span of a day; getting to know each other, and involving themselves in the resolution of one another’s relationship baggage -her robust personality bouncing cutely off of his charmingly grounded one.
The model of many a romance movie is seen here, not least of which the similarly conversational whirlwind all-in-a-day masterpiece Before Sunrise. But Rye Lane is maybe the first of the imitators since to equal that movie’s love of place, even while it is in firm contradiction of the kind of naturalism the Before trilogy and its descendants wear so proudly on their sleeves. In fact, this film is stylish as hell! With a kind of slick energy to the editing reminiscent of an Edgar Wright or Boots Riley, and a sharpness to the rhythm of the dialogue that vaguely recalls Fleabag, yet distinct and original in cadence and specificity, Allen-Miller proudly demonstrates how best to incorporate exciting filmmaking into run-of-the-mill narratives. She comes from the world of commercials and music videos, still a viable if underrated space for unique young artists; and that language of quick-form visual storytelling is used to great effect here, not just in the inventive ways she utilizes space and imagery, but in her digressions into flashbacks, non-sequitur cutaways, and fun visual extrapolations on her characters. When Dom tells the story of his break-up, he and Yas are transposed into the environment of the cinema where it happened. Likewise, Yas’ story takes place in the format of a stage, she being an aspiring costume designer, with Dom as every spectator in the audience revolted by her ex’s distaste for A Tribe Called Quest.
Allen-Miller infuses these sequences with a lot of gorgeous colour, but makes sure to spotlight the affable atmosphere of Peckham vividly too, as it rolls past our protagonists crossing it through wide angle lenses that cast them in relief to it. The movie was entirely shot in real places throughout that area, down to even the restaurant and cinema showcased, and the legitimacy that lends can’t be overstated. This is not a movie at all interested in compromising its environment and so is full of little specifities and background details that tell their own stories about this community -like the guy in the blue cowboy suit dancing through a mall, the couple old ladies sitting in a courtyard gossiping, or the shirtless old man in a flat window in the background of a shot just doing stretches or something for all the neighbourhood to see. Even as exaggerated for comedy as some of the characters have to be, they feel authentic too, from the passive-aggressive matriarchs of the family Yas and Dom drop in on, to a gay club owner to Yas’ high-on-his-own-righteousness ex. These people and the local world they move in is depicted with such unfiltered earnestness -a portrait of working-class black Britain so sincere and refreshing, and illustrated through their own voice and culture.
Yas and Dom are terrific vessels through which to experience this. Clearly designed to compliment by way of contradicting each other, they establish a quick rapport and attraction that is entirely their own. She is more reserved and guarded than she lets on while he is more open to brashness than initially suspected -and yet not in any kind of conventional way. Allen-Miller’s direction, the way she sets their point-of-view lends a kind of sharply wry intimacy that is relatable and draws a personal sensibility similar to the comedy Peep Show, albeit without so many digressions of awkwardness. But Jonsson and Oparah are incredibly good in their own right, each bringing out a vital natural charm to even the most outrageous bits and with a cogent and swiftly endearing chemistry relayed through underappreciated minutiae in their performances. I love for instance how Dom maintains a constant smile while Yas passionately expostulates or suggests something impulsive; and how Yas often seems to side-eye him and subtly contrives ways to keep them hanging out. It is infectiously sweet, and this movie’s maybe got the most adorable first kiss I’ve seen in a good while. It’s a shame when the movie does feel obliged to engage in certain rom-com tropes for these two, but they are at least grounded here in highly resonant emotions and insecurity.
The conventions kind of come with the territory, but within them the movie makes every effort to feel new. The script by Nathan Bryon and Tom Melia is very sharp, and particularly the humour stands out for its elements of laddish delinquency mixed with that buoyant elastic realism and visual wit. The movie opens on an overhead of various weird or uncouth things happening in the toilet stalls where the story’s catalyst is, building a comic crescendo to Dom’s emotional breakdown. When Yas tells a story of deciding to break it off with her boyfriend Eric (Benjamin Sarpong-Broni) over his refusal to wave at boat tours on the Thames, the joke transcends through the barrier of past and present in a terribly fun way. Allen-Miller allows this kind of creative visual comedy to drive more of the film’s sensibilities then simply the verbal sparring that is a trademark of the genre –although there are plenty of great jokes there too, several unafraid to be inherently local or cultural in nature. And one of the best gags comes from a tortilla vendor called ‘Love Guac’tually’, which is already a grade A pun before the real brilliant punchline emerges.
Rye Lane is the kind of exciting movie that feels like it ought to be a watershed moment for the genre but in this cinematic climate and with its release straight to streaming, probably won’t. Nonetheless it is a gem well-worth seeking out. It is manic and heartfelt, bombastic and grounded, and its music, including a karaoke cover of “Shoop” by Salt-N-Pepa, slaps. Perhaps most notably it is an apt representation of South London too, its charms and demographics and its singular eccentricities alike. These are the people and places that should be spotlighted more, in British cinema and around the world.
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