LosAngelesTimes
Duncan Roy's AKA is a scintillating Vanity Fair set in England and France in the late 1970s in which a young man of humble origins makes his way into an aristocracy that may be not what it once was yet still adheres as severely as ever to class distinctions.
At once a biting social commentary and a high adventure, it is the largely autobiographical saga of an 18-year-old who, in passing himself off as the son of a titled woman, ultimately discovers his true identity. AKA has wit, scope and style and makes inspired use of a triptych letterbox screen -- the film was shot on video and transferred to 35 millimeter -- that provides multiple perspectives on the film's hero and his extraordinary progress. AKA is among the most sophisticated, fully realized and satisfying films of the year.
Dean Page (Matthew Leitch) is truly trapped, beset by a stepfather (Geoff Bell) who is worse than brutal and a loving mother (Lindsey Coulson) so intimidated by her husband that she won't even sign the papers that would allow her son the escape and opportunity a free government college education would provide. A waitress in a posh London restaurant, his mother fantasizes she is friends with the aristocratic women, Lady Francine Gryffoyn (Diana Quick) in particular, whom she serves day in and day out. In sheer desperation Dean runs away from home and applies for a job with Lady Francine at her art gallery.
Dean is just handsome enough and diffident enough to catch milady's fancy. Beneath an often nasty veneer, Lady Francine, a divorcée, is a vulnerable woman who knows she's hated by her peers because she must work for a living. All bodes well for Dean until he runs up against Lady Francine's son, Alexander (Blake Ritson), an insufferable snob jealous of him. Dean, however, has briefly crossed paths with a charismatic young American, Benjamin Halim (Peter Youngblood Hills), who tells him that Paris is the place to be.
With the same sense of desperation that drove him from his working-class home, he thus takes off for the City of Lights; when he sees that his lack of French will limit his chances of getting another art gallery job, he boldly declares to a dealer that he is indeed Alexander Gryffoyn. It's "Open sesame" for Dean, an instant entry into the French upper crust, a meeting with David Glendenning (George Asprey), a rich and handsome gay British aristocrat instantly taken with him - and currently keeping Benjamin, who has himself been driven away from a miserable home in Brownwood, Texas.
All these developments, much more intricate than outlined here, propel Dean to the heart of the matter; Dean becomes carried away by his assumed identity while becoming potentially caught in a dicey triangle with David and Benjamin. Amid a sharply observed swath of La Dolce Vita-like decadence, Roy suggests that with Dean caught between so jagged a rock and so hard a place at the outset of his story he had nothing to lose by his imposture even if it was hardly likely to last.
AKA has the spot-on performances and dialogue so typical of British fare but also is richly cinematic, which is not so typical. Roy is equally acute in his social, psychological and emotional observations, and their ever-shifting interplay in AKA is consistently amusing, poignant and insightful. Indeed, the far more aware and experienced Benjamin, in his insecurities and changeability, holds up for Dean a mirror that Dean naturally resists peering into at all costs. As fresh in spirit and energy as the handsomely designed and photographed AKA is, it's timeless in its grasp of the immutable workings of human nature.
Kevin Thomas
Los Angeles Times
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