REVIEW- FILM : ROMANS (2017)

In 2008, Filmmakers, and brotherly direction duo Paul and Ludwig Shammasian (Pyramid Texts,2015) along with BAFTA award winning writer Geoff Thompson came together first to create a short film Romans 12:20. ( This film went on to find acclaim at a number of film festivals (Rushes Soho Shorts Festival, 2009 and New York International Independent Film & Video Festival in 2008 to name but a couple). Since then, the spirit of the film, its core subject matter, troubled main character and mastermind creative team have carried it into its new manifestation as a feature length film.

And guess what guys? It’s great.

Romans (2017), was a revelation for me when it debuted back in July at the EIFF (Edinburgh International Film Festival). I went in not really knowing what to expect; the move from short emotive film into feature is not always without its difficulties. Some things are better suited to that shorter punchier format; that quick hook and sting. However, I can safely and unequivocally say there was none of the preamble I would usually associate with the stretching of a short. Roman’s evolution into a feature piece proved it had more than enough material and depth to justify being a feature film and dare I say it, it was even better than the original short.

Why? Well the answer is simple. It was written with knowledge, experience, and passion. It came from the heart. The film was transformed with the sort of love and respect that one only hopes a director can muster when entrusted with their script. Romans 12:20 dealt with a dragon of a subject in snapshot- it was beautifully framed and developed, but there was so much more there. Roman’s in its feature length format picked up that snapshot and painted a mural across the whole wall. Deliciously complex, but never deviating far from its core message. Romans is a masterclass in character driven story. I left the cinema that day thinking about it constantly, struggling to find the words to pin beneath the portrait. For weeks afterwards, I found myself reflecting and wondering what exactly to cover - and so finally, here is my review.

Troubled labourer, Malky (Bloom) is tasked with the demolition of the town’s old church where he finds his tormented past come rushing back to haunt him when a former priest (Smilie) from his childhood returns and retakes his post at the new church. The memories of harrowing sexual abuse at the priest’s hands come flooding back. Riddled with self-guilt and suppressed rage, we follow Malky on a dark path struggling to deal with the past and the present – caught in a hopeless circle of destruction; both his own and as per the domino effect, to the lives of those around him.

Yes, the events of Romans are sparked by a singular event- the re-emergence of a former ghost- but it is never over simplified. Its clear Malky has carried his burden one way or another his whole life. Be it the flaring of uncontrollable aggression at the flip of a switch, the dysfunction in which he handles his relationships in his life, or his confusing devotion to his mother; whom let him down in his moment of need, and with whom he is always trying to make up for some ill understood disappointment. Through beautiful and deeply symbolic storytelling we, the privileged audience, see all of Malky... but we are the only ones- the rest of the world sees Malky a certain way- only facets, or through certain filters and inside, the damaged boy goes perpetually unnoticed.

It’s also rather topical given recent cases of abuse now springing to light after years of abject silence; from formerly beloved television personalities, to football coaches, and yes, even priests within the church, a light turned into the darkness to highlight the quiet and unspoken truth. The filmmakers expertly weave what is therefore a complicated subject matter into a frank and honest narrative. There was real heart and experience in Thompson’s story, and it clearly resonates with its principal cast and crew; in the skillful direction from the wonderful Shammasian brothers, the beautiful, gritty cinematography to the subtle sound design and the performances drawn from an outstanding cast.

Delving for a moment into the details, and glossing, if possible, over our protagonist, this story is supported by a truly stellar cast. The actors were well utilised across the board, and added dimension and perspective to this character driven narrative. On-and-off girlfriend, Emma (Montgomery), is desperately trying to reach across the incomprehensible void to someone who is sexually distant and emotionally defensive. Someone who never quite lets her in. Montgomery’s performance is compelling, and her character serves to shows a desperately human side to Malky and the true tragedy of silence and repression. Her frustration emanates, and gives voice to our own as viewers. She cares for the man as we do, but it isn’t ever enough and there’s always more than one casualty in these situations. Meanwhile, friend and fellow labourer, Joe (Ferns), is the steady voice of reason, enriching and softening Malky’s often frosty or caustic behaviour with fond and oft recounted tales of Malky’s loyal, selfless, caring side. Though he also proves that no one in Malky’s warped world is truly safe from the undirected rage. These characters feed into the silence to humanise and enhance Malky, and provide a more rounded view and stand testament to the fact there’s something intrinsically good, and loveable and salvageable in the man even if he refuses to see it himself.

Then we have Malky’s mother (Reid), whose stilted relationship with her son is of such relevance for the plot- both historic and present- a catalyst for so much. Those subdued and quietly prophetic scenes about the table, drinking tea and NOT talking encapsulate so much – the lingering silences evidence of the disconnect- but it is never black and white. There is desperation there amongst the mistrust, a longing to make good of something neither one seems to fully understand is broken. There is a genuine resonance there with life, particularly in a truly gut wrenching and painful scene later in the film, where finally, tragically, they talk. Finally, Charlie Creed- Mills puts on a fantastic performance as Paul. there is the new priest in town; a reformed criminal himself, whose character holds up a mirror to Malky- a symbol of the future, for Malky and the church, trying to reconnect Malky with a tie that was severed by former betrayal- a comment perhaps on the ‘old’ church, and the sinister emergence of systematically ignore abuse by priests within the catholic faith.

The Pièce de résistance within Romans however, comes surely from its leading man: Orlando Bloom puts on the most outstanding performance of his career to date, perhaps one of the most impressive performances of an actor of his calibre this year as Malky. The dark shadow of the terrible events that unfolded and the shame that had silenced him throughout his life play out across his face, and you find yourself knowing he is at all times but a hairs-breadth away from complete emotional implosion. When he speaks, you listen, each word hard, verbally stunted, yet crucial and important. The rest is shown in an impressive physical portrayal. The fear, the shame, the anger and the frustration in the aversion of his eyes and thinning of his lips– the nearest he can ever come to speaking earnestly merely a quickly dismissed recounting of a dream. The camera strips him bare, and Bloom’s portrayal of the sullen intensity, is so layered that it’s effortlessly easy to park the ‘hero’ persona steeped on him by Hollywood, and buy him as this stripped and tortured man. Far from attempts to dress it up, and make it palatable there is something raw and challenging in this performance, something so complex that it hits you straight between the eyes, and leaves you willingly struggling alongside him.

Malky is both distant and subdued and intensely provocative- emotionally complex, yet the mask he wears is ever present to the world- cracked and damaged, but there. I loved to watch the other characters attempts to reach him, to find themselves pushing against an immovable wall. You go on that journey with Malky, willing him to speak beyond his dismissive catchphrase: "I’m just tired" but understanding why he feels so gagged. You get the frustration of those around him, never truly able to reach or understand him before the walls go up. Willing them to not give up on him but understanding too, the impossible position that they are in, always held so at arm’s length. It’s real. That happens. A heinous event occurs and the ripple effect is felt by all.

I found I appreciated also, that nothing is neatly tidied away- no one is safe from the wildly misdirected anger or the abject sullen silences. They push and rally, and cry and scream, even take a few punches, but Malky is to each of them a mystery, and it is we, the privileged audience that are the only true viewer of the man behind the mask. The performance had such conviction for me. The story hangs around Bloom’s Malky, and Bloom carries it.

Visually, the film is stunning also. The mise-en-scene within the film is full of beautiful juxtapositions. You feel the confliction in the demolition of the church that held such bad memories for him. Those elongated pauses before the crashing of the hammer sends dust and debris scattering through a formerly hallowed, holy place. There is many reoccurring elements throughout the film which help to tether audiences, and bring them back to the core message: The hammer- the rage and vengeance - a weapon of choice which reoccurs throughout the film. The church and the conflict of faith; the overtone of religion and belief; dismantled, challenged, and distorted, but undeniable influential still in Malky’s deep-set resentment for the church. Even Malky’s decision to ‘carry the weight’ himself, shown physically in the form of the heavy crucifix taken down from the church wall - silently shunning well-meaning help when offered. The scene lingers, it isn’t rushed, the symbolism obvious and yet as the camera lingers overlong, somehow understated. Reoccurrence, the endless desperate trap and cycle of someone who has learned to ‘survive’ alone and remain reliant on only himself. The old adage springs to mind that if your only tool is a hammer, then every problem becomes a nail and this holds very true with Malky.

Aggression is his only outlet for those bottled feelings, and it isn’t only for those around him. The aggression is turned inwards also, physically and sexually abusing himself by way of self-punishment. This red mist that descends so in conflict with the glimmers of the loving son and self-sacrificing friend, so desperate for his mother’s forgiveness for some perceived slight, that he is utterly repressed. Unable to forgive, because he feels he has never been forgiven. Of course this is all a reflection of the wider overarching theme of religion, and it’s place within this characters world. One scene in particular resonated with me. Malky, alone again after a narrow brush with vengeance, and a missed opportunity for violent justice, sits and stares into a firepit. He is inexplicable drawn to the half-demolished church, beneath its gothic arch where so much of his torment occurred. Trapped back there even as he tears the building down brick by brick. Here our new priest steps in to try and reach him, to reason with the man at the edge of the precipice and a choice is delivered- the hammer he cradles or his voice back. Revenge or forgiveness. To let the ghosts, take something more from him, or find a way of moving past it. Redemption in the hands of a new and more understanding, open face of the religion.

That in itself is something that might create distance between those in the audience less inclined to such belief systems and yet it is done in a way that I never felt any agenda was being forced down my throat, rather that this was something important to this character in particular, a facet of him, that had been taken – a most important aspect of his life that had become synonymous with betrayal and religious or not, that feeling would resonate with anyone. The betrayal of trust, and the inability to mend a wound once inflicted is after all the true core theme of the film. The impact comes from the FORM of that betrayal- the sexual abuse of a child – which puts it in the sharpest focus. Because what is more innocent than a child? And how severe a betrayal to rob them of their right to be that child.

The truth is, Romans is a hard film to watch, because it I meant to be. Don't get me wrong- Visually it is fantastic, the script is strong, the characters raw and rich. It is the unashamed verisimilitude that makes it so hard. It’s visceral, and even before the writer stood bravely at the front to address audience questions after the screening I could tell that this came from somewhere more real than many people were prepared to go. A retelling of something so deeply personal, that I can only applaud his bravery, and the strength of his voice.

From my experience at the festival, and the Q&A that followed the screening, the audience, whilst largely captivated, had in part some concerns about the close. I’m not dealing in spoilers here, so I won’t go into details, but for me, and I would say, for the majority of people, what Romans confesses in that final and divisive scene, once stripped back, is that forgiveness is not the end of the journey, but the beginning. What forgiveness really gives you is release from the burden of damaging negativity, from being the victim and wearing this mantle that has been foisted upon you. It told me that actions have consequences, however big or small- that a handshake or a word can have as big or even bigger implications than flying fists or the destruction of a building, and that the ripple effect through life of each and every person’s actions, like the caustic flap of a butterflies’ wings have far wider consequences. Roman’s left me certain that it’s message was that no victim should have to carry that cross alone, and forgiveness is a gateway. It isn’t easy. It isn’t tidy, it doesn’t fix everything like the wave of a magical wand…but it’s a start…

But isn't that the most honest portrayal you ever heard?

5/5 – Unashamedly Visceral. Orlando Bloom puts on the performance of his career, in this harrowing look at the effects of sexual abuse, treated with sensitivity, honesty and integrity by a great ensemble cast, and a talented creative team.