Ali & Ava
Clio Barnard’s latest film centres around a quiet and tentative relationship between Claire Rushbrook’s country music loving classroom assistant Ava and Adeel Akhtar’s Ali, a kind-hearted landlord whose tenants include the family of the young girl Ava helps at school.
A Romeo and Juliet, of sorts, for a middle-aged, mixed-race couple from different sides of Bradford. Holme Wood, where Ava lives and Ali has tenants, is described as “dead chavvy” by one of Ali’s relatives. Runa says it’s “mixed”, Ali does not react.
As Ava, Rushbrook is both vulnerable and self-assured, saying as much with subtle facial movements as with Barnard's clearly carefully crafted dialogue. It’s easy to see why she is drawn to Ali given the little snippets of her past relationships we are informed about. Wisely, Barnard chooses mostly to allude to these, with Ava recounting a particularly violent moment, rather than show them on screen. This means you focus on the words. Barnard even cuts away from Ava during this, and all we see is a black screen with gently moving coloured circles. A fantastical interpretation of fireworks perhaps, but this sequence also made me think of what must be going through someone’s mind during such abuse, their vision blurring.
Adeel Akhtar (who received a BAFTA nomination for his role) gives a multi-layered performance as Ali. Not only is he an understanding, outwardly cheery landlord, but he is also clearly suffering. His marriage to Runa (Ellora Torchia) has broken down, a fact he does not want his family to know, and he lets off steam by listening loudly to dance music, jumping on his car. Blocking out the world around him, he is constantly on edge, and this perhaps explains why he tries so hard to make everyone around him happy. In doing so, he is neglecting himself. Akhtar’s ability to simultaneously evoke joy and sadness is wonderful to watch. This mirrors Ava, who, widowed, is much more content with making her children and grandchildren happy than worrying about herself, her wants and desires, and Rushbrook is equally as adept at imbuing complex emotions into a simple change of expression.
There is a beautifully quiet simplicity to Ali & Ava, masking something far more complex. A story of taking chances and giving people time to figure things out. With it's slice-of-life feel, unobstrusive direction and understated dialogue, it won’t be for everyone, but it is effortlessly played by its leads and deserves attention from anyone willing to be swept up in a deeply moving, honest, and truly relatable tale of love, loss, and hope.