THE RIOT CLUB
Starring Max Irons, Sam Claflin
Directed by Lone Scherfig
Rich boys will be insufferable hellions in the latest from Lone Scherfig, who previously investigated the United Kingdom’s class divide in the decidedly gentler An Education. Adapted for the screen by Laura Wade from her stage play Posh(and inspired by the infamous Bullingdon Club, an Oxford “dining society” that counts David Cameron and Boris Johnson as alumni), The Riot Club takes a scathing view of the insolent debauched dandies who fancy themselves Britain’s best and brightest and are emboldened due to the impunity their status allows them.
As the film and school term commences, this cabal of Oxford scoundrels welcome two new initiates into their ranks: Alistair (Sam Claflin) is following in his elder brother’s disreputable footsteps, while Miles (Max Irons) seems ill-suited for the group, what with the modicum of compassion he displays for the underclass. After an initiation founded in degradation and saturated in bodily fluids, the group descends on a sleepy country pub like an entitled invading force.
As the well-tailored thugs aspire to mount their own version of 120 Days of Sodom, their contempt for the common man hits a fever pitch and mayhem ensues. However, despite these blue bloods’ predatory natures, they’re the easy marks here. Dourly communicated by Scherfig, Wade’s criticism concerning the elitist callousness and sadism is as on the nose and unsubtle as a head butt. Ultimately, this tale of wanton excess proves unfortunately shallow. By painting its players with such broad, grotesque strokes, it becomes little more than an invitation for the punters to cluck their tongues in disapproval and then exit the theatre buoyed by an inflated sense of moral superiority.
