Northern Soul
Cinema has often given the North of England a bad rap, focusing on bleak kitchen sink dramas and doomed stories of thwarted ambition. But it’s not all grim: Clio Barnard is reminding us just how much love and joy there can be – and music – in her latest, Ali & Ava. Northern expert Alasdair Bayman takes us to see the sights.
The North of England rarely looks romantic, with cold weather – particularly rain – dominating any thought from Manchester to Newcastle. Ken Loach has come to lead and define a wave of social realist cinema set in the North, depicting working-class families and struggles in Sorry, We Missed You and the Cannes Palme d'Or winning I, Daniel Blake. Although these films offer vital, often moving reminders of the harsh injustices faced by so many Northern communities plagued by austerity forced upon them by a Tory government, they are imbued with loneliness and Loach’s rather rigid approach to class.
Such films often lack the ultimate binding human emotion of love. Embracing the ecstatic highs of the boundless feeling, Clio Barnard’s Ali & Ava unapologetically embraces the deeply sensory experience of falling in love – and does so in the North of England, in the working-class community of Bradford.
Barnard’s relationship with the city on film began with 2010’s The Arbor, and she returned to it for 2013’s The Selfish Giant. Yet Ali & Ava gives a greater focus on the idea of forming profound bonds in adulthood, contrasting the youthful spirit of The Selfish Giant. The film never suppresses the emotions of Ali or Ava, nor does it belittle them with tragedy in a derelict post-industrial landscape. An antithesis to the arduous depiction of Northern communities in the filmographies of Loach or Jack Clayton’s 1959 post-war film Room at the Top, Barnard offers a compassionate perspective on Northern life, its people and their daily lives.
Ali (Adeel Akhtar) is a carefree guy who wanders the streets of his neighbourhood in Bradford greeting his neighbours, always wearing a bright orange baseball cap seemingly reflecting his nature. Although he does not have a job, he is supported financially by a set of terrace properties he owns, one of which houses a young Romanian family. Caring and affectionate towards them, he gives the family’s little girl a lift to the local primary school and back every day. After meeting Ava (Claire Rushbrook) at the school while collecting the girl, she drives home with him – all due to a typical Northern torrential downpour.
Ava is from a proud Irish background, with Folk music coursing through her veins. A teaching assistant at the school, she looks out for the struggling kids in classes. A grandmother to five grandchildren, her inner happiness is hindered by a troublesome past with her ex-husband who recently died. During the car journey home, Ali and Ava discover they couldn’t be more different, musically speaking. Ali proclaims his love for contemporary electro-pop (Sylvan Esso’s ‘Radio’ returns often) and The Specials whilst he drives. He can’t believe how someone could listen to country or folk music. Ali’s radiance when discussing music hides the truth, that his wife has left him after they had a miscarriage and fell out of love, yet they are still living in the same home and are both equally frightened to inform Ali’s Pakistani family.
Opposites do attract, and before long Ali and Ava fall for each other. Their initial loneliness binds them, searching for greater meaning beyond their fragile family situations. The power of music to captivate, fascinate and create intangible bonds between formative lovers pulls the two closer, even though their backgrounds could not be further apart.
The experience of listening to music is portrayed across different perspectives; personal, collective and cathartic. Ava listens to the simple melodies of acoustic folk instruments through her wired headphones whilst commuting, watching the sun rise over the rolling hills of Bradford. To Ali, music is a tool to cleanse his inner demons, listened to through a pair of huge over-ear headphones. In her lyrical, musical approach to love, Barnard underlines the ability of music to bridge backgrounds, class and race. Beyond the evocative soundtrack, there is no score artificially creating emotions. The choice from Barnard allows each musical moment between Ali and Ava to be imbued with utmost intensity.
Such sensitive experiences are captured by cinematographer Ole Bratt Birkeland with a rich intimacy, creating compassionate observations on how music is consumed in the real world. A shallow depth of field gives focus to Ali and Ava, emphasising the couple’s emotional connection. Their hands are shot in extreme close-ups developing a sensual impression of their relationship, with Birkeland’s camera unafraid to capture the wrinkles of time across their hands.
Barnard and Birkeland’s visual poetry extends to vistas across the city at night, framing fireworks crackling across the sky. Observed by the characters and their families, Bradford's industrial skyline is captured with a simple beauty; the filmmaking never looks down upon working-class people and seeks to celebrate their diversity, familiar love and tenderness with vivid moments together.
Working-class life is a melody that possesses an infinite amount of joy in the arms of another. Ali & Ava is an ode to a timeless universal experience – its rhythms are unique and never miss a beat. Barnard’s authentic depiction of Northern life is one seldom seen in contemporary British cinema.
Ali & Ava is out in UK cinemas on March 4. Find your nearest screening here.
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