Game (2025) Without Frontiers

Released online from June 18th and with a Blu‑ray scheduled for the 29th, Game marks the debut writer and producer credit of Portishead and BEAK’s Geoff Barrow, a man who had previously dipped a toe in cinematic waters composing soundtracks for Alex Garland’s Annihilation and Civil War, and releasing OSTs for films such as Ex Machina (Garland again) and Drive via his label Invada Records – the very company that has produced this feature. Co‑written by 2000AD’s Rob Williams and directed by first‑time feature maker John Minton, a Bristol filmmaker whose previous work includes music videos for Noel Gallagher, Sleaford Mods and, of course, Portishead, the film proudly keeps its ties to the alternative music scene through its stars: the Mods’ own Jason Williamson and Marc Bessant, the graphic‑designer‑turned‑actor who has previously provided artwork for Portishead and Peter Gabriel and who has also had a hand in the film’s screenplay.

Set in the summer of 1993, against the backdrop of the UK’s rave scene, Game opens with the aftermath of a car crash. Deep in the woods, David (Bessant) lies trapped in the wreckage. Hanging upside down by his seatbelt, injured and caught between life and death, every attempt to extricate himself fails. To make matters worse, a violent dog has become aware of his presence. Through flashbacks we learn that David is an ageing yet immature drifter, a wholly selfish man whose aimless life consists of leeching on the peripheries of the rave scene, stealing from strangers within it. Having scored the jackpot – a stash of money and drugs – David was making good his escape when he lost control of his car. His natural instinct for self‑preservation ensures he survives the encounter with the dog by quickly winding the car window up against its neck, restricting its airway until it expires, but matters are compounded by the arrival of the dog’s owner: a taciturn and mysterious poacher (Williamson) with a considerable chip on his shoulder about ravers, and who is not about to let his dog’s death slide. “I’ve watched someone die before… takes a while sometimes,” the Poacher remarks, making it clear to the helpless David that rescue is not on his agenda.

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Game’s setting — a single location containing a trapped protagonist at the mercy of a mysterious predator — is an increasingly familiar one on our screens, but what makes this film stand out is the way it tells its story visually. Much of this is surely down to Williams who, as a comic‑book writer, is familiar with presenting a story across several frames. But factor in a music‑video director like Minton and it becomes even more distinctive, particularly in a final reel in which the tense, claustrophobic battle of wills between the two men sees them pushing against the very edges of the wilderness and their sanity. In short, things get very trippy indeed, as David’s survival instinct rears its head once again and he slips the Poacher a mickey of hallucinogens. Distorted imagery, further flashbacks pertaining to the Poacher’s military background, the woodland’s network of trees and fungi, and the strangest version of Ravel’s Bolero you’re ever likely to hear open up the film to the kind of dazzling, disorientating visuals that Nic Roeg would be proud of. Having previously dulled our senses to patience‑testing levels by keeping David trapped for two‑thirds of the movie, this sequence serves as a welcome relief for the audience.

Indeed, it’s the commitment to slow‑burn claustrophobia in the first and second act that lost me with Game, because at what point does slow‑burn become a bum‑numbing stasis that encourages your attention to wander? The very nature of the setting means this is sparse storytelling with minimal dialogue, so there’s already little to hook you. The film’s big plot development hinges on the lysergic spiking of the Poacher’s scrumpy — the key to the wilder, hallucinatory final act. Therefore a lot of goodwill is required to last the distance, with only the exchanges between Bessant and Williamson to keep you going. While it is amusing to hear the Sleaford Mods singer so uncharacteristically denounce the rave scene as “shit clothes, shit cars and shit music,” it’s frustrating that none of the four screenwriters sought to explore the similarities between both characters for dramatic effect. After all, both men are hunting on the land for prey: the Poacher for the wildlife that lives there, and David for the temporary visitors who themselves are being smeared as criminals by the government of the day. Anyone expecting Game to ratchet up the tension with a protracted battle of wits may be disappointed.

It’s therefore something of a high‑wire act for Minton and, while he succeeds admirably in some respects, it’s understandable that he falters in others given this is his first feature. Nevertheless, he should be pleased with the success he has in creating the film’s world, particularly on a limited budget that his artistic vision often belies — a transferable skill from his background in music videos. Likewise, the lack of budget ensures the film’s period setting is subtly done and restricted to a few soundtrack choices and some vintage clothing, rather than a nostalgia fest of Peter Kay “do you remember?” proportions.

Mark’s Archive – GAME (2025)