Tony [DVD]

Tony is quite an achievement. Much is hyped about low-budget movies that punch above their weight, but in the case of this movie, all of the attention is much deserved. Beautifully made, concise, moving, and so evocative it's guaranteed to stay in your mind long after the final credits, Tony is one of the best movies I've seen in quite some time. Despite being lazily labeled as a serial killer movie in the media (a description the director refutes), for all its grizzly inflections, Tony is actually quite a sad and touching film, easily fitting in alongside the best of Mike Leigh. While the actual violence mostly happens off-screen, and is implied more than glorified, the film expertly runs many parallel sub-texts: the destructive harm of alienation, and the failings of society when it comes to failed social housing plans, mental illness, and the destruction of community; the sadness of poverty, and the insidious stain of mass-media on our interior perspectives.

In terms of production, yes, Tony is low-budget, but the skill is that you'd never know, because instead of trying to over-stretch itself, this movie plays very much to simple but effective strengths. The direction is economic but sharp, with the evocation of gloom and loneliness a major triumph; and the subsequent contrasts between interiors and exterior, and the passing of time are amongst the most effective I've seen. Equally, the art direction is spot-on. To anyone watching this outside London, the blue plastic bags Tony uses may just be bags, but if you've lived in the city, you'll feel the creep of many a late-night corner shop visit; and the hopelessness of Tony's enforced reliance on a shabby TV and charity shop VHS tapes over contemporary satellites programming, DVDs, and an expensive wide-screen television plunge his place in the world far below the cliches of stereotypical dole-dwelling.

A major nod must also go to the collective performances, which are all stellar. Peter Ferdinando's Tony is expertly rendered, even down to his dodgy haircut; and the supporting characters that pass through Tony's life are also most valuable, all suggesting rich back-stories, thus - and importantly - allowing the film to transcend exploitation cliches to set this tale in a real life that's all too believable.

Last, but no means least, the soundscaping soundtrack - provided by Matt Johnson of The The - is perfect; the reverberation of accordions and pianos coming and going as echoes, building into a series of motifs that empower the visuals without ever being overbearing; complementing the action expertly in direct polarity to the lazy use of music for mood in so many Hollywood blockbusters.

Inevitably, this film won't appeal to all tastes, perhaps proving too sparse or arty for some, and no doubt too gory for others, but in terms of effective film-making Tony is a major, major triumph. A word of warning, though; Tony will stay with you long after, and may even bring you down for a while. But as a work of art - which this film is, without a doubt, or recourse to hyperbole - I can't recommended this film enough.

TONY screened last year at the Manchester Grimm Up North festival. Not sure what to expect from a British serial killer film, TONY really impressed a genre-savvy audience - not least because of a genuinely creepy and haunting performance from Peter Ferdinando as the lead character.

There have been other films that have been compared to the classic HENRY: PORTRAIT OF A SERIAL KILLER, but in TONY deserves the comparison, and more. With great cinematography and awesome support from the entire cast, TONY is a true UK classic, all the more impressive considering the budget the crew were working with. Shot with hand-held cameras on London's streets, TONY feels real, in a good way, and at it's most scary moment it sends shivers down the spine.

Yet despite it's gritty subject matter, TONY is also darkly humourous, showing moments of humanity that contrast beautifully with the shocking kill scenes. Tony himself is a lonely character, more concerned with old VHS action films (Jean-Claude Van Damme being a particular favourite of his) and trying desperately to connect with the people he encounters rather then any pre-meditated killing spree. His loneliness touches the viewer, allowing us to (almost) sympathise with a man who thinks nothing of strangling a TV Licence man for threatening to take away his precious TV.

For all fans of British horror - this is one of the best debuts to emerge from the UK for years, and director Gerard Johnson and Peter Ferdinando have marked themselves out as big names to wtch. Also worth noting that the score was written by the director's brother, Matt (THE THE) Johnson.

Tony watches action films on video cassette. He lives alone in a vertical street; a tower block in run down Dalston, a suburb of 'Broken Britain's' North London. Tony has not worked for over thirty years, and has no wish to do so. After all, he does have so much to do at home. This is at least what Tony tells his job centre adviser. This scene happens around the middle of the film, where we have already discovered that Tony has a penchant for murdering people in his flat. In protracted sequences throughout the film, we see Tony rigorously separate the body parts into their smallest components; wrapping them in newspaper and placed in corner-shop blue plastic bags for disposal. Whenever we follow Tony as he walks the streets, he is always carrying blue plastic bags. Tony has a lot of body parts to dump in the Thames.

Gerard Johnson's feature debut is a gritty serial killer movie, - clearly inspired by real-life British serial killer, Dennis Nilson (the Muswell Hill Murderer) - that follows a man completely alienated from his surroundings. He is Nilson in the early 1980's. He only watches action videos from that decade. Like Nilson, Tony (played with all the sweaty awkwardness needed for the character, by Peter Ferdinando) prefers to keep the bodies for company. He talks to them as they are placed on the sofa, or laid out in bed. Tony's life is a cycle of seconds of murder; hours of company; much time dismembering; and a long, perpetual task of bit-by-bit disposal.

Tony picks up men in gay bars. He persuades a couple of smack-heads to go back to his flat. A boy of 10 years goes missing on the estate. A large, stereotypical, aggressive working-class man targets Tony as an obvious target: His appearance could resemble that Daily Mirror image of the bespectacled, moustachiod loner, that so associated with a pederast.

Despite the grim, and inescapable bleakness of the film, director Johnson, finds room to add humour. The film resembles, stylistically, that of John McNaughton's excellently unresolved Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer (1986). The same concept carries into this film. The life- goes-on attitude. Tony is a ghost in the narrative. Yes, he is the protagonist. But he only exists in his insular world. The space he has dwelt in for "ages". Outside he drifts through the busy streets unnoticed; he fades into obscurity amongst regular people. Anonymously carrying plastic bags of internal organs.

The film is self consciously 1970's in its approach; both stylistically, and thematically. in the latter of those two, '70's horror cinema tended to the ambiguity left by rare conclusions. For the first, this is low budget cinema. However, this is certainly made with style; it is highly competent filmmaking. We know immediately from the start of the film that the filmmakers influences in the golden-years-of-exploitation- cinema are a part of this picture; the typeface of the movie title 'Tony' are reminiscent of the title cards for the American exploitationers this really wants to homage. It is an incredibly well made contribution to the likes of Jeff Gillen and Allan Ormsby's Deranged (1974). However, Tony does not highlight the grotesque, like in much of the films it might be 'riffing' on.

Johnson's film looks like it could possibly fit into the working-class visuals of a kitchen sink drama - only through the eyes of a cold- hearted killer. Although, whilst we are repelled by Tony, do we also feel pathos for a character so out of touch with the world, that he will try and persuade a Chinese man selling DVDs on the street to sell him outmoded video cassettes? Tony is entirely disenfranchised. Because of this separation from reality, Tony is able to pass unseen. Or perhaps, like Mary Harron's American Psycho (2000), this is all imagined. (By the way, I don't believe at all that this was all imagined; that's just how I ended it.)
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