Human Traffic

John Simm - Jip
Lorraine Pilkington - Lulu
Shaun Parkes - Koop
Danny Dyer - Moff
Nicola Reynolds - Nina
Dean Davies - Lee

Billed as the movie for the rave generation, likened to Trainspotting and bringing with it the buzz and burden of expectation, Human Traffic has found itself carrying a responsibility its 25 year old director Justin Kerrigan could never have imagined when he began writing the screenplay two years ago, fresh out of film school. Happily, its chemical credentials are impeccable, the comparisons to Trainspotting (notwithstanding a greatly reduced budget) are not out of place and it will definitely deliver on its good-time promise to its intended audience.

Swapping Edinburgh for Cardiff and heroin for ecstasy, the five who go mad here are a collection of McJobbers and dole wallahs, living for the weekend. The most famous face is that of John Simm (BBC’s The Lakes) who plays Jip, at home to Mr Floppy and not sure whether the E is to blame. He's joined by Coop (Shaun Parkes), an easy-going DJ until jealousy about girlfriend Nina (Nicola Reynolds) sets in, Nina's best mate, Lulu (Lorraine Pilkington) and fellow job-seeker and Category A headcase, Moff (Danny Dyer).

Like Trainspotting, the structure of Human Traffic is loose and little more than an assembly of anecdotes, following the characters over the course of a hedonistic weekend. There's little traditional A-Z narrative to be found here, only a desire to trace the arc of the weekend from euphoria to paranoia. Ultimately, this lack of substance does undermine Human Traffic's impact, while at the same time providing a suitable medium for the message: a good time is had, but the effects soon wear off. That said, the film is blessed with some comic moments of the highest quality, and as it namechecks Bill Hicks as its inspiration, there's little doubt the late comic would have approved of the film's propensity for inspired monologues. Most of these are delivered by Moff, the film's de facto star and a back-of-the-cab rant featuring Travis Bickle, Peter Andre and a painfully applied coat hanger is first class, as are his spectacularly unsuccessful and expensive attempts at masturbation.

Kerrigan's directorial style is relentless and never scared to take risks. As certain scenes fall flat on their arse (a alternative National Anthem, notably some characters don't happen (Nicola Reynolds is weak) and the editing looks a little haphazard. Somehow, though it really doesn't matter, and the end result is a very legal high.
Review© Sue Elliott.