Released on demand and in select cinemas tomorrow, Mind-Set is the feature-length directorial debut of Scottish filmmaker, academic and festival programmer Mikey Murray, who also wrote the screenplay. The film is a story for our time, concerning a couple played by American actor Eilis Cahill (Mad), and Steve Oram (Sightseers), who are arguably too f*cked up to be together, too f*cked up to be with anyone else.
Cahill stars as Lucy, a former actor who now works an office job she hates, and whose longstanding relationship with the feckless Paul (Oram) – a screenwriter whose breakout movie was ruined by a director years earlier – is hitting the buffers as much as their career aspirations have. No longer compatible, just going through the motions seems to be the order of the day for the couple until Lucy is surprised to find herself attracted to Daniel (Peter Bankolé), a buff, young, and newly arrived work colleague with a passion for squash. Encouraged by Paul to get active again to help her mental health, and recalling her fondness for tennis, Lucy joins Daniel for a few games and their flirtatious exchanges begin to develop into something more. Finding herself on the cusp of an affair she begins to feel alive again, but Lucy can’t be certain that sex with someone else will be the answer to her problems. Meanwhile, Paul has his own problems as he’s meant to be working on a screenplay for a high-profile director who is keen to work with him, but he finds himself increasingly worried by the new energy that Lucy is beginning to display – and not for the reasons you might expect.
When Lucy goes to the bathroom, is she really taking her pills? And why won’t Paul go to the shops for some bread or take a walk in the park?
Elegantly shot in monochrome, Mind-Set is a seriously good British indie, and explaining more of it would be to the detriment of audiences. One of Murray’s key strengths as a storyteller here is his decision to allow information to creep slowly into the consciousness of the viewer, never once spelling anything out, and just allowing the truth of his beautifully observed exploration of a dysfunctional couple to develop and reveal itself naturally. At times you feel like you want a bit more information, and there’s a crucial moment in realising something about Paul where *I think* I heard the voice of Boris Johnson, but its distorted and overlaid with other sound effects, and is never explored further. It doesn’t really matter as these are only the briefest of moments after all, and it’s refreshing to see a film that allows its audience to have their own insights into what may be going.
Elegantly shot in monochrome, Mind-Set is a seriously good British indie, and explaining more of it would be to the detriment of audiences.
There are elephants in the room (quite literally in the case of Mind-Set‘s production design, with a wooden one in the bathroom that’s always being toyed with by both Paul and Lucy, and a well-worn stuffed toy placed upon a shelf), that come from a relationship with a long shared history. It would be easy to dismiss Lucy and Paul’s relationship right from the off (the opening sequence sees her tirelessly masturbating him – a lengthy exercise that’s performed in fits and starts, and looks like it will never achieve its intended goal), as one of incompatibility. Indeed for early stretches it does appear to be the direction in which Murray is leading us, especially when Paul animatedly explains with boorish enthusiasm how their bidet works to some house guests, or when it’s revealed that their relationship is somewhat unequal given that Lucy is the financially better off. It’s all a feint though, as Murray appreciates that love isn’t necessarily about passion, and for all their foibles and quirks, Lucy and Paul’s is a relationship in which love runs much deeper than your average Hollywood romance. It’s the kind of truthful, authentic relationship last seen on screen in the work of Cassavettes.
There’s a reality, an honesty and a poignancy to the characterisation of the protagonists in Mind-Set, helped enormously by a pair of truly affecting lead performances from Cahill and Oram that feel authentic and lived-in. Cahill, in particular, is phenomenal in her role and effortlessly compelling to watch, whilst Oram initially appears to be playing a character we’re familiar with seeing him portray, only for him to peel back the layers to reveal something much more three dimensional, sympathetic and sweet. There are many things you may come away from this thinking, but the foremost one will undeniably be “I feel like I know these people”.
It’s this innate familiarity that ensures our investment in Mind-Set, and ultimately makes the ending an impactful one. Again, it’s not something you can give away in a review, but I will say that my initial impression was that it felt jarring – despite all the signs having been there throughout the film. On further reflection, I think that my emotional response and my desire for another ending actually speaks of how invested I was in what Murray, along with Cahill and Oram, have created.
It would be easy to look at Mind-Set with its scenes of masturbation and urinating and dismiss it as just another indie film out their breaking such taboos, but there’s so much beneath the surface here that it would be extremely short-sighted to do so. Murray delivers a fine balancing act between the grot and the gentle, the comedy and the drama, and never more so than in contrasting his protagonists with some of the characters who enter their lives. Philip Stevens plays an actor and unpleasant old friend of the pair in a manner that I hope is a dig at the likes of Laurence Fox, while Spaced‘s Julia Deakin gets one of the film’s biggest laughs as a charity shop assistant (look out too for a blink and you’ll miss out cameo from Jason Isaacs). Ultimately though, this is a heartfelt and bittersweet observation of modern love, one hidden behind the grime of modern life.
Mind-Set is in cinemas and on demand from tomorrow
