Based on Laura Wade's (also script writer here) play Posh, The Riot Club sees An Education director Lone Scherfig take us inside the hallowed halls of Oxford University, where lies the decadent and debauched world of the titular society. A fictionalised version of the real life Bullingdon Club, The Riot Club is made up of the schools top students (read: they come from money), whose activities within the club amount to nothing more than eating and boozing till they vomit into the black plastic bags provided. With the club two members short, freshman, and rivals, Miles (Max Irons) and Alistair (Sam Claflin) are quickly inducted in, stoking the fires of a barely hidden disdain the club has for the lower classes.
With our 'heroes' painted liberally with the spoilt, rich kid brush, The Riot Club is a sometimes compelling, entirely uneasy watch. There isn't a member of the club you could call likable. Even Miles, who we are expected to root for, has some horrible character traits that are very hard to see past. They are a bunch of stuck up, spoilt toffs (one scene sees a soiled sports car left at the side of the road with a flippant "ash tray was full anyway"), but you find yourself glued to the screen, just to see how far their antics can escalate. These are horrible people, doing even more horrible things, but you feel compelled to watch, even if you don't enjoy it. Of the ten member club, not many make much of an impression, with Claflin dominating proceedings as the slimy, hateful Alistair. He is perfect in the role, every sly comment or disdainful look he throws making you hate him even further. Every scene he is in, which is most of them to be fair, the others take a back seat, with Irons especially suffering with a poorly written, underdeveloped character. Only Douglas Booth comes close to Claflin as Harry, who you expect never heard the word no in his life. The characters the club looks down on provide excellent support, with the likes of Natalie Dormer, Holiday Grainger, and Jessica Brown Findlay, shouting into the void as the movie's voices of reason.
With the origins of the club fully explored in a pre-credits trip to the 1700's, the movie wastes no time in setting the board and getting all its pieces in place, with a script fizzing with subtle humour. The first act feels like a bit of a slog, and sets up many sub plots that are sadly forgotten or under developed. The Miles and Alistair rivalry, which is the main thrust of the plot, doesn't feel fully thought out or acted upon, feeling tacked on to give the movie a bit more substance. The second act is dominated by the club's first annual dinner, in an extended scene which sees the movie go back to its stage roots. Largely confined to a pub's back room, it takes its time to get going, but once it does, tension is built wonderfully. It's here the movies chief concern, the dangers of privilege, is fully explored. As the wine flows freely, tensions rise even further, the pot gleefully stirred by Alistair, and when everything comes to a head, it packs and exceptionally dark gut punch. The following scenes are disappointing in comparison, as the movie mishandles the resolution, almost like it is rushing to tie up everything with time running out. Though I have to applaud its conviction to delivering a wonderfully down beat ending.
Truly an uneasy watch, The Riot is still oddly compelling, with a fantastic second act that isn't afraid to goes as dark as the material warrants.
With our 'heroes' painted liberally with the spoilt, rich kid brush, The Riot Club is a sometimes compelling, entirely uneasy watch. There isn't a member of the club you could call likable. Even Miles, who we are expected to root for, has some horrible character traits that are very hard to see past. They are a bunch of stuck up, spoilt toffs (one scene sees a soiled sports car left at the side of the road with a flippant "ash tray was full anyway"), but you find yourself glued to the screen, just to see how far their antics can escalate. These are horrible people, doing even more horrible things, but you feel compelled to watch, even if you don't enjoy it. Of the ten member club, not many make much of an impression, with Claflin dominating proceedings as the slimy, hateful Alistair. He is perfect in the role, every sly comment or disdainful look he throws making you hate him even further. Every scene he is in, which is most of them to be fair, the others take a back seat, with Irons especially suffering with a poorly written, underdeveloped character. Only Douglas Booth comes close to Claflin as Harry, who you expect never heard the word no in his life. The characters the club looks down on provide excellent support, with the likes of Natalie Dormer, Holiday Grainger, and Jessica Brown Findlay, shouting into the void as the movie's voices of reason.
With the origins of the club fully explored in a pre-credits trip to the 1700's, the movie wastes no time in setting the board and getting all its pieces in place, with a script fizzing with subtle humour. The first act feels like a bit of a slog, and sets up many sub plots that are sadly forgotten or under developed. The Miles and Alistair rivalry, which is the main thrust of the plot, doesn't feel fully thought out or acted upon, feeling tacked on to give the movie a bit more substance. The second act is dominated by the club's first annual dinner, in an extended scene which sees the movie go back to its stage roots. Largely confined to a pub's back room, it takes its time to get going, but once it does, tension is built wonderfully. It's here the movies chief concern, the dangers of privilege, is fully explored. As the wine flows freely, tensions rise even further, the pot gleefully stirred by Alistair, and when everything comes to a head, it packs and exceptionally dark gut punch. The following scenes are disappointing in comparison, as the movie mishandles the resolution, almost like it is rushing to tie up everything with time running out. Though I have to applaud its conviction to delivering a wonderfully down beat ending.
Truly an uneasy watch, The Riot is still oddly compelling, with a fantastic second act that isn't afraid to goes as dark as the material warrants.
