South West Nine

Writer/director Parry paints an anxious picture of London as a melting-pot society. Freddy (Johnson), the Brixton-bred narrator, is a bedroom musician and a runner for creepy dealer Jel (Gee). But, while Freddy is likeably pensive, his omniscience seems less convincing. In his account of 24 spiralling hours, set to heady dub/trance/HipHop rhythms, he links numerous characters, including middle-class crusty Kat, wideboy club entrepreneur Jake, unwitting acid casualty Mitch and aloof city slicker Helen, whose lost briefcase contains corporation-toppling information. Parry was a documentarist, and it shows in the resonant camerawork. The tightly edited film is also makes great use of urban locations. Those familiar with the area may appreciate the insidious cameos from locals, and the telling use of archive footage. Unfortunately, as the plot wobbles between volatile drama and pure pantomime, it's evident that this is Parry's first full length writing venture.