Lucy Halliday | Bouquets & Brickbats

06/04/26

Cineworld, Edinburgh

There have been a lot of ‘based on a true story’ movies lately, but California Schemin’ is one of the most appealing I’ve seen in quite a while. Originally filmed as a documentary (2013’s The Great Hip Hop Hoax), the real-life events provide the basis for the directorial debut of actor James McAvoy. It must be said, he makes a compelling and thought-provoking transition to the other side of the camera.

It’s the early Noughties and Gavin Bain (Seamus McLean Ross) and his best friend, Billy Boyd (Samuel Bottomley), are working in a call centre in Dundee, where Billy’s flair for adopting different accents makes him the leading salesman. But the boys devote all of their spare time to creating rap songs, written by Gavin and performed as a duo, though Billy is clearly the more confident performer. Like a lot of kids, they dream of making it big in the music industry – but their approaches to record labels keep bumping up against the issue of their Scottish accents. When they travel to London to attend an open call for ‘new bands’ they are summarily dismissed as ‘the Rapping Proclaimers’ after performing just a few lines.

Then Gavin comes up with an audacious plan. Since everyone they speak to extolls the virtues of American rappers, why not become American? Fired up by the idea, the pair re-record their demos with their best attempts at US accents, even devising a backstory for themselves as Californians. Miraculously, the record labels they approach now show much more interest in ‘Silibil and Brains’ – and the next time they’re in London, the boys manage to blag their way into a rap club, where they perform an impromptu song onstage, which goes down a storm. Luckily for them, ambitious talent scout Tessa (Rebekah Murrell) happens to be in the crowd and invites them to come in to her office for ‘a chat.’

Almost before they know what’s happening, they’re signed for a hefty advance and are being lined up for some prestigious gigs, as well as a TV appearance. Billy suggests that they reveal their true identities to the world live on TV, exposing the music industry’s anti-Scottish bias, but Gavin is enjoying his newfound stardom a little too much and is not quite ready to blow the whistle…

There are strong performances from the two leads, while McAvoy provides a cameo as Anthony Reid, the no-nonsense head of Neotone Records, ironically a Scotsman himself. Lucy Halliday is appealing as Mary, Billy’s partner, who, stuck back in Dundee, can only watch in bemused wonder as the whole enterprise hurtles out of control.

As well as the sheer fun of the central premise, California Schemin’ also makes some interesting observations about prejudice, and the way so many people have preconceptions about the limitations of national identity. Why can’t somebody with a Scottish accent be a talented rapper? And why did the record company act in such a hostile way when the truth was finally uncovered? Co-written by Bain and Boyd, with Elaine Gracie and Archie Thompson, this is a whole ton of fun, best watched in amped-up Dolby stereo in the movie theatre of your choice. If you prefer streaming, you’d probably better warn the neighbours. It’s gonna get loud…

And now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go. I think I feel a song coming on…

4.2 stars

Philip Caveney

14/02/23

Cineworld, Edinburgh

It’s hard to remember sometimes, from our current vantage point, just how deeply ingrained homophobia was in 1980s Britain. Writer/director Georgia Oakley’s debut film takes us back to 1988, and the implementation of Margaret Thatcher’s controversial Clause 28, which explicitly banned schools and local authorities from ‘promoting’ homosexuality. I was in sixth form then, and I mostly remember finding it ridiculous – as if, without the clause, there would be advertisements everywhere. “Come on, kids! Be gay! It’s great!” But I only had the luxury of dismissing it as stupid because I was straight. I don’t know how it made the gay kids feel. I didn’t know anyone who said they were gay back then (although, of course, many have come out since). I don’t blame them for keeping schtum. I don’t remember the schoolyard as a place that celebrated difference.

Jean (Rosy McEwen) is a PE teacher. She’s also a lesbian, recently divorced from her husband, and enjoying a new relationship with Viv (Kerrie Hayes). But while Viv is at ease with herself – out and proud and politically engaged – Jean is less confident about her sexual identity. She’s still keen to fit in with the heteronormative world; she doesn’t want to draw attention to herself, either at school or with her family. It’s a matter of survival: however shocking it may seem, she’s right to fear her that job is on the line. She manages by drawing a clear distinction between work and home: she lives in a different town from the one she teaches in, and refuses drinks invitations from her colleagues. Her social life revolves around a gay club and a lesbian commune, and here she’s free to be herself.

Until fifteen-year-old Lois (Lucy Halliday) shows up in the club. She’s belligerent and bold – and she’s also Jean’s student. Suddenly, Jean’s worlds collide. Her carefully segregated life is under threat, and she’s torn between fight or flight.

Oakley’s script gives us a clear insight into the era, and into the overt discrimination that permeated popular culture. McEwen shows us a young woman forced into a choice she doesn’t want to make: she has to be a hero or a failure; she can’t just be; the government’s weird preoccupation with consenting adults’ sex lives has a profound impact on real people. Hayes is heartbreaking as Viv, whose clear-eyed view never dulls her pain, and newcomer Halliday is mesmerising on the screen.

Clause 28 was finally repealed in 2003, and things have certainly improved – although, of course, there’s still a way to go. Blue Jean serves as an important reminder of why we can’t ever relax our vigilance, and why we mustn’t let things slide. People’s lives and happiness depend on it.

4 stars

Susan Singfield