Ali & Ava: NZIFF Review

Director Clio Barnard's quiet social realism has been a fixture of the film festival for a while now.

Her latest, a romance set in Britain's Bradford, is another slice of life from the less than sunny side of the world, but its radiance is no less dulled by it.

Adeel Akhtar plays Ali, a landlord and defacto helper to his tenants. From dropping in to fix things to helping convince a tenant's child to go to school, he's the energetic assistant who lives in a world of music that nobody asked for, but everyone's grateful for.

Claire Rushbrook is Ava, a classroom assistant at the local school (something she dutifully corrects everyone who says she's a teacher) who randomly meets the ever-helpful Ali in a rainstorm and whose paths collide for good.

A burgeoning relationship begins between the rambunctious and insistent Ali and the reticent Ava - and to say more is to not exactly reveal spoilers, but robs Ali & Ava of the slow beauty which unfolds. It's not that there are devastating revelations, the events which occur all have consequence, and the dexterity with which Barnard weaves the threads is deeply cinematically rewarding and humbling.

With beautifully helmed cinematography, Ali & Ava captures both the frustration of life in England's north and also the joy. From the opening shot of a hooded figure clambering atop a car and unleashing some dance moves to a wonderfully poignant final frame, Ali & Ava is a film that never wastes a second of screentime on the banal or irrelevant.

What's most astonishing about Ali&Ava is how it subverts expectations in its love story. There's a tenderness within, taking beauty from its most volatile moments. A sequence where Ali's car is pelted with stones bristles with danger. But the script takes that moment and Akhtar's wonderful performance and turns it into something joyous as both the kids involved and the potential victim bond through music.

There's plenty of joy to be found in Ali & Ava - and plenty of heartache too. It's a perfect gem of a film, something that speaks to the eternal pleasures that a chance of happiness brings, but also acknowledges the pain and tragedy it sometimes takes to endure on that journey.