In recent years, British filmmakers like Andrea Arnold, Lynne Ramsay and Clio Barnard have rediscovered the strange kind of beauty Ken Loach found in the working-class suburbs. They have taken advantage of the combination of steel, concrete and distant greenery to create landscapes both familiar and intentionally anonymous, which serve purposes that can be equally shocking or dreamlike. In “The Selfish Giant”, Barnard uses these settings to tell us her version of Oscar Wilde’s tale about a giant who tries to keep children away from playing in his beautiful garden.
The giant in question is Kitten (Sean Gilder) the tough owner of a scrap metal yard whose relative wealth captures the eye of hyperactive youth Arbor (Conner Chapman) who dreams of becoming like him. Arbor recruits his schoolmate, the silent, more mature, Swifty (Shaun Thomas) to skip class and collect scrap metal for Kitten, in the hopes that one day he’ll let him ride his racehorse, Diesel. Much to Arbor’s surprise, Kitten develops an affinity for Swifty after he discovers how good he is with horses causing a rift between them that leads to tragic consequences.
Switching Wilde’s Christian message for a more urgent socialist one, Barnard cleverly points out how British culture has tried to evade reality for far too long. Instead of showing opulence and fantasy she reminds us that the gardens of Wilde’s era have been exchanged for industrial playgrounds in which there is little time for actual play. She aptly points out these contrasts by creating seemingly fantastical sequences in which horse races take place in highways and factory towers echo ancient castles. In fact she suggests that Arbor is trying hard to fight these ancient concepts, while Swifty tries hard to preserve them.
“The Selfish Giant” contains wonderful performances, especially from Gilder - whose final scene is utterly heartbreaking - and Chapman, who turns Arbor into a true force of nature who lives in constant fear of not being enough for the people he loves. During one of the film’s most devastating moments he is confronted with the harshness of reality in the face of his friend’s mother (an almost unrecognizable Siobhan Finneran) who seems to be living in constant denial about everything around her. The film’s beauty is that despite its raw revelations, Barnard is able to maintain some tenderness, she exposes her characters to the truth without relishing in cruelty, and that is something that links her directly to the author who inspired the film.
