In thinking about how to begin this review, it feels impossible not to come at it from a British perspective. In so many ways, Paul Dood’s Deadly Lunch Break is the archetypal British dark comedy – sad, sometimes bitter, bittersweet but very funny. And, as it takes us through all of this, it’s more than happy to remind us that many things are, well, a bit crap. This is its central success, as although it also takes some swipes at the world of social media, it’s primarily character-based and sticks with its central character very closely, investing us in his pitfalls and accidental successes. It’s hard not to be charmed by it.
In a terraced street in a smallish UK town lives Mr. Paul Dood (Tom Meeten), talent show veteran. Although he’s in his forties and working by day in a charity shop, he’s still determined to succeed on the stage: his elderly mum (June Watson) is rooting for him too. Now that he’s using a social media platform called Trend Ladder (which is essentially Instagram Live) he holds onto hope that his all singing, all dancing act will find a new audience. Focusing avidly on any and all interactions doesn’t help his time management, though, and he realises whilst at work that he’s got the Talent Ladder Talent Show date all wrong. It’s today, not next week: in a lather, he rushes home, collects mum, and they dash off together.
Their journey to the venue is, and sorry to bring it up again already, the most British farce imaginable. Be it petty little jobsworths, megalomaniac business owners or other politely-bullying individuals, everything which can go wrong does go wrong, and it does so agonisingly slowly. Oh, it’s hard not to shout at the screen, even while enjoying the spectacle. These things mean that the Doods arrive at the audition too late, and it only gets worse from there: what unfolds when they manage to speak to the dreadful host of the show, Jack Tapp (Kevin Simpson), turns the mild-mannered Paul into a very different man. This doesn’t play out as he wants, necessarily, but the film does offer a kind of misguided catharsis; it doesn’t happen in a Falling Down style, but it happens via a number of accidents, incidents and misunderstandings which range from socially cringeworthy to very grisly.
From the ‘clubland style’ performance outfit Paul wears to the phenomenon of the charity shop to the teacake binges, the backdrop for all of this is so, so recognisable – though to international audiences, it may need some explanation. This is a catalogue of the things which often drive us mad over here, and the humour present in this film is an excellent reflection of all that. It’s gallows humour, shown in unlikely situations but everyday language: barring the fact that a handful of the jokes or characters flounder because they’re so obvious, it works very well. It’s hard to get that kind of unpracticed, well-observed speech done right, but writers Brook Driver, Nick Gillespie and Matthew White have nailed it here; it also helps that the film boasts a who’s who of British comedy, and yes, thankfully Steve Oram is in it, as it wouldn’t be proper otherwise.
So Paul Dood’s Deadly Lunch Break nicely satirises a lot of things, but it manages to hang onto a sense of poignancy too. For starters, we’re certainly not alone in the UK in obsessing over talent shows, and this has been the case since way before the internet. Now, the rise and rise of social media has only intensified this urge to get famous, and the likes of Susan Boyle has pushed the idea that anyone, any time can do it (we see a clip of Susan doing her thing in the film). Paul Dood is to an extent a victim of this thinking, but it runs deeper with him: a lot of his desires to make it stem from his close relationship with his mum, wanting to make her proud. Looking further, these godawful shows and their offspring are sold on the notion of instantaneously lifting people out of poverty, something else which affects the Doods, who seem to be ‘making do’ at best. Paul accidentally succeeds in social media notoriety, but it’s because he breaks down under the weight of expectations and grief, and that is genuinely sad in places. You can’t help liking him, whatever he does, because it’s easy to buy into his frustrations and anger. Thankfully, the film’s moments of serendipity are perfect, and balance out the abject misery to give us something incredibly well-handled overall.
It won’t be for everyone, this one. Admittedly it’s dour, it can be bloody and it has a very low-key style of humour. But seeing an everyday guy kicking against the pricks? It’s great, and I haven’t seen it done quite like this before.
Paul Dood’s Deadly Lunch Break (2021) will screen as part of the 25th Fantasia Film Festival. For more details, please click here.