If you are the big tree, we are the small axe.
Small Axe, an anthology of films for tv that demand to be watched.
At first, I wanted to write about all 5 of these films but once I filled a whole article with just the one (I, of course, began with my favourite) I realised there was too much that needed to be said. After attending a talk by Courttia Newland, Steve McQueen’s co-writer for Lovers Rock and Red, White and Blue, it was decided for me to write about them.
When talking about the Small Axe series, Newland described them as a kind of art house cinema for black British stories. Each episode possessing a different story-telling tone. Newland also added that he wrote in service of the story.
Lovers Rock relayed the fictitious events of a house party, based on the actual parties put on by black British people in 1980s West London who were not allowed to go to the clubs. Amarah-Jae St. Aubyn plays Martha, a seemingly innocent character navigating this party with her friend but revealing herself to be sharp and strong. There was no tokenism here or stereotype or fetishization of the ‘otherness’ of this woman. St Aubyn said here “I never saw myself being a lead in a love story, being a Black female. I don’t want this to be just a trend, I want people to understand how talented we are, not just to tick a box.” The whole Smalle Axe series was able to capture this. There were beautiful people and cruel characters, each containing a little bit of both, reflecting the honest reality that no person is wholly one or the other.
Her strength shines through as she stands up to the uncomfortable character of Bammy, perfectly executed by Daniel Francis-Swaby, the party pesk who takes things too far and sexually assaults Cynthia (Ellis George), a character that has, for the majority of the party, been insulting Martha. Apparently, Francis-Swaby never broke character from the perversely persistent Bammy whilst on set and I’m sure we’d all be curious to see what that looked like!
Lovers Rock was named after a London record label of the same name which specialised in love songs sung by women, inspired by American R&B and creating a new genre, again, of the same name. It was created to counteract the vast amount of male-dominated reggae coming from Jamaica. It was started by Dennis Harris and Dennis Bovvel who embody anti-racist, anti-patriarchal vibes in the 70s. Bovvel can actually be spotted at the house party in the film as the song he wrote and produced is being played. Silly Games by Janet Kay is a reggae/disco ballad, whose crooning sweetness and penetrating high notes fills ten minutes of a seventy minute film. As he watched this crowd of young people sing his song forty years later, Bovvel said here “The song became a kind of spiritual and a kind of protest: the authorities playing silly games with the people. I thought, Steve, how did you see that? I never saw that song as a protest.”
As the song begins the lovers get close, hands grab cheeks and tongues tangle but as Parker B (Alexander James-Blake), selector of the music played at the Lovers Rock party, turns the music off, the moment takes them and they forget the primal instinct to mate, instead living and loving the music. They all sing together as a collective, taking on an almost church choir quality in this transcendental moment.
This sensual moment can be smelt in the dense smoke and felt in the sweaty bodies expressing joy together. Much like a night of partying, it is almost timeless as the soundtrack to Lovers Rock, continues in a blend of blues, reggae and soul. The beginning and end of this momentous night is symbolised by a solemn man who Martha sees carrying a large, white cross. It also seemed to envelop them in the safety of a night without worry, free expression and hedonism. They were only interrupted by white bodies when Martha briefly steps outside the party and is threatened by a group of men that loom towards her.
Newland, when asked about the cross, remembers this man from when he was younger. McQueen urged Newland to write these memories into the story as a reference to the reality that these lives and experiences are valid but also having fun as they play and experiment. The cross being carried, he said, also stands for the burden of black British people, a constant reminder of encroaching forces as they live in an oasis of survival.
Treat your ears to this live performance of Silly Games https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qCVR5XR04Mo