Weekend has widely been described as “a gay Brief Encounter” and it’s easy to see why. Like the classic weepie this is a bitter-sweet love story, a very English film about the collision of two individuals who are perfect for each other but who meet at the worst possible time.
After a house party with friends, awkward, quiet Russell (Tom Cullen) stumbles into a gay bar alone, wasted and on the pull. He is saved from the advances of an amorous “hobbit” by the ebullient Glen (Chris New) and what begins as a one night stand unfolds into something rather special.
Although understandable, the Brief Encounter comparison doesn’t acknowledge the quirks that make Weekend rather special. There are multiple moments of hard drug use for instance, and some graphic (if very well handled) sex scenes, both of which are lacking from David Lean’s stiff upper lip classic (as much as the thought of Celia Johnson and Trevor Johnson snorting a few lines then performing cunnilingus on each other intrigues me).
More importantly, writer and director Andrew Haigh anchors the film with moments of subtle yet thought provoking social commentary. Russell is out to his friends but struggles with public displays of affection and is intimidated by youths who congregate around his tower block to shout abuse. Russell’s quiet acceptance of his alienation is challenged by Glen’s aggressive “outness”, but Haigh’s refusal to lean on easy polemics suggests that neither approach is constructive. Haigh challenges the assumption that Britain is “over” sexuality, yet he also emphasises the freedom that these particular gay men enjoy. The contradictions of a society where it’s OK for Russell’s macho colleagues to discuss fisting in the staffroom, but in which Russell himself feels unable to kiss Glen in a bar are carefully laid bare, but the approach is never heavy handed. In a particularly tender scene Glen insists on role playing Russell’s absent father, so Russell can “come out” to him and banish his demons. It is a sensitive moment beautifully handled, and by no means a one off in a film brimming with similarly striking exchanges.
What makes Weekend so memorable is the combination of this pressing political engagement and a charming love story. Glen and Russell are both brilliantly played as likable but flawed young men, blundering into moments of profundity with believable bewilderment. Cullen particularly excels, portraying Russell’s growing confidence and social conscience with heart wrenching affability, all long stares and crumpled limbs. Set mostly in Russell’s flat, the domestic scenes brim with a warmth and humour, particularly a convincingly awkward morning after scene. The camera work is also beautiful, intimate but never voyeuristic, with striking long shots of morning light streaming through the window ensuring that we never forget that time is ticking away. The use of the criminally underappreciated John Grant on the soundtrack seals the deal.
At one stage Glen, who works in a gallery, tells Russell that straight audiences would never come to see art that engaged with the gay experience; Weekend happily transcends that theory. This is a film with gay protagonists that doesn’t pander to a straight audience, and by refusing to compromise Haigh constructs an accessible, utterly engaging love story. Just don’t go expecting David Lean.