North coast tragi-sex-comedy-part-horror Office Politics was screened in the Belfast Odeon cinema and examines the behaviour of three men who staff a tax return advisory company. Self-obsessed Lawrence (played by Neill Virtue) is ill-mannered towards his exasperated pregnant wife (Jenny Marshall), perennially turns up late, and tells appallingly off-colour jokes. David (Gary McElkerney) is obsessed with getting his long-suffering partner (Joanne O’Neill) to “talk dirty” to him. George (Michael Killen) is quickly described on-screen as a “Walter Mitty” character who claims to have fought in Vietnam (despite being the youngest of the three misogynistic degenerates), takes everything very literally, shows signs of having OCD, and struggles to find the right words to say to the feisty waitress in the local restaurant (Christine Clark) who has the hots for him. All three have a torrid fascination with – though little experience of – anal sex.
The trio leave a wake of disruption and disrespect behind them like an HR cluster bomb. To emphasise his absolute lack of common decency, Lawrence bullies George – eating his cookies and snaffling his milk – while David tries to feed advice to improve his younger colleague’s faltering love life. They’re the kind of men who never grew up and race to the window each morning to see a woman in yoga pants walk by, and refer to a woman with many children potentially from different fathers as “machine gun fanny”.
Aside from the office workers, the director and screenwriter Neill Virtue (who also plays Lawrence) throws a few more ne’er-do-wells into the fray, including one ignoramus who calls the waitress “sugar tits” and rightly gets clobbered around the head. The comedy makes little attempt to be sophisticated. An early dance sequence promises a sense of the surreal that isn’t particularly followed through. The element of horror is entirely down to the recurring actions of George which I won’t spoil. The skillful editing, bouncing between parallel locations and storylines, along with Richard Brown’s playful score lift a number of scenes and provide colour in the midst of simple sets.
Does Northern Ireland need – or deserve – a sex-mad comedy with puerile humour? I’m not sure, but it’s certainly got one. Despite my misgivings, it certainly compares well to The Unholylands which has been screened daily for weeks in Omniplex and Movie House cinemas. Office Politics is a real labour of love, with a short (probably a better format to contain the three coworkers’ mannerisms) produced before Covid and the feature version finally making it to the big screen in 2025.
While the men are beyond redemption, the objectified women largely grow in confidence, learn to stand up for themselves, and – by the film’s half way point – begin to take back control and emasculate their doltish partners. A final scene is stolen by a grinning pre-schooler in an attempt to give the film a happy ending. Burying the three office workers up to their heads in the sandy beach at high tide might have been a more fitting conclusion and would have cemented the horror vibe.
A fifteen minute race across the city got me over to see Charlotte Ercoli’s feature debut Fior Di Latte being screened in the Queen’s Film Theatre. When struggling playwright Mark (Tim Heidecker) loses the inspiring scent of his comfort blanket (a pair of boxer shorts over which perfume was spilt in his suitcase on a trip to Florence, Italy), he desperately tries to recreate the smell and sense of being valued from the holiday. This is complicated by the presence of Francesca (Marta Pozzan), now lodging in his cluttered New York apartment and the subject of his obsession.
A collector of mostly faux (and sometimes unpleasant) cinema memorabilia, Mark’s ability to relate to women is almost as deeply flawed as his ability to live up to his job as a writer. A looming deadline to produce a draft script leaves him in a panic and his writing method is shown to be all madness, The loss of his prized rag sends him on a mission across the city to find precious ingredients for a master perfumer (Kevin Kline) to recreate his preferred scent.
A strong whiff of the aroma triggers hallucinogenic flashbacks to moments when Francesca has been kind or praised Mark. Her on/off attraction towards rude and thankless Mark is troubling, and feels like a type of Stockholm Syndrome. His utterance of “take me as I am or you scram” could equally have been said by some of the men in Office Politics.
Ercoli has a much larger budget than Virtue, and the attention to detail in her sets gives the scenes a lot of depth that is understandably missing in the north coast movie. Cinematographer Thimios Bakatakis liberal use of wide-angle lenses gives an other-worldly feel to some scenes. The perfumer’s Heath Robinson machine to blend his ingredients adds to the sense of whimsy along with Andy Street’s score. On two occasions – far too few – characters burst into song … reminding viewers that Mark claims to be a lyricist as well as a writer.
Whereas Office Politics’ menfolk are totally objectionable, Ercoli’s Mark is allowed to veer between pathetic and creepy, written quite sympathetically as a man in the middle of a long breakdown. It’s a stronger approach and plays to Heidecker’s considerable comic talent, leaving Fior Di Latte’s audience wondering whether Mark could salvage a decent personality and a career from the mess he has created.
Belfast Film Festival continues until Saturday 8 November.
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