Abbie Leeson checks out Charlotte Regan's touching study of a father-daughter relationship...
Director: Charlotte Regan
Starring: Lola Campbell, Cary Crankson, Harris Dickinson
Running time: 84 minutes
Twelve-year-old Georgie (Lola Campbell) doesn’t need a foster home. She’s perfectly fine by herself, thank you kindly.
Following the death of her mother, Georgie finds herself living alone, selling stolen bike scraps for rent. Collecting some very unconvincing voice clips from the local corner shop clerk, she successfully pulls the wool over the eyes of social services, living with her pretend uncle, ‘Winston Churchill’.
Yet when her previously absent father (Harris Dickinson) clambers over the garden fence one afternoon, Georgie’s life is once again uprooted. Scrapper bears witness to the slow, tender unfurling of this relationship (think Aftersun (2022), but more colourful). This summer, Charlotte Regan’s directorial debut finds us in a candy-coloured London estate, inspired by her childhood in Islington.
Once a day, Georgie drags a finger down her grief chart. Denial. Anger. Bargaining. She’s almost finished mourning now, she’s decided. A few more weeks and she’ll be over it. Throughout the course of the film, Georgie’s grief ebbs and flows in slow, painful throbs. Her mother’s mugs and cushions have remained unchanged since her passing. Her bedroom harbours an even darker truth.
Georgie’s colourful world, undercut by the bleak reality of her mother’s death, is upturned by the return of her father. Georgie, acting far too old for her age, and Jason, acting far too young for his, find a quiet equilibrium between them. They learn to meet in the middle, with nothing entirely forgotten or forgiven. They learn to live on regardless, wounds open and unhealed.
Scrapper’s scenes are warm and richly saturated, not dissimilar to the vibrant city shots of Rye Lane (2023) or The Florida Project (2017)
Much of Scrapper’s tenderness can be attributed to cinematographer Molly Manning Walker, who awaits her own directorial debut with How to Have Sex, later this year. Walker captures the estate through the honeyed lens of childhood, shooting more often than not from Georgie’s level. Scrapper’s scenes are warm and richly saturated, not dissimilar to the vibrant city shots of Rye Lane (2023) or The Florida Project (2017).
From vast, sun-soaked wide shots of pastel houses, to intimate, hand-held close-ups, Georgie’s world drips with character. In moments of rapid movement, the camera follows shakily beside her. We sprint through the estate, fleeing Georgie’s latest bike heist. We glance up tentatively at Jason, uncertain of his motives. We enter her mother’s room with slow, steady caution, afraid to linger. Scrapper’s shots feel, at all times, dynamic and organic.
Avoiding the gritty social realism of other working-class cinema, Regan’s writing harbours a unique playfulness, rich with zest and wit. Chasing that ever-elusive spirit of childhood, Scrapper seizes joy with both hands. Summer afternoons unfold into choreographed dance routines, slapsies and metal detecting. Spiders converse in comic-style captions. Jason and Georgie play out the conversations of the upper class, bickering about £10 sandwiches and whether the neighbour’s lawn is superior to their own.
Dickinson’s portrayal of Jason is as grounded as it is playful. Newcomer Campbell, is truly a force to be reckoned with. Boisterous, bold and irreverent. Above all else, Scrapper knows how to play.
Scrapper signifies a departure from the bleak Kitchen Sink realism dominating much of British cinema
Regan’s preoccupation with joy, while commendable, renders the emotive elements underdeveloped, on occasion. Dipping its toe into the topic of grief, Scrapper is hesitant to truly penetrate the surface. The darker side to Georgie’s grief goes largely unexplored throughout, and moments of emotional release feel, at times, a little flat.
This restraint could, of course, be intentional. Georgie is unwilling to feel it - or, more simply, Regan is unwilling to linger on her pain. Scrapper’s colourful buoyancy reminds us, at all times, that Georgie is still a child. In moments of true grief, the closeness we feel to Georgie evaporates; she is afraid to let us in.
Ultimately, Scrapper signifies a departure from the bleak Kitchen Sink realism dominating much of British cinema. Regan and Walker wave goodbye to the UK’s penchant for working-class misery. Regan writes a love letter to lower-class children. To council estates. To unorthodox families. Scrapper is a film about subverting expectations, confronting stereotypes, and kicking them in the teeth while you’re at it.
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