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A Bond girl in bondage will always sell seats, but Gemma Arterton’s performance as the kidnap victim in The Disappearance of Alice Creed goes beyond the obvious clichés in a thriller that is queasy and claustrophobic. Arterton plays a millionaire’s daughter snatched by two ex-cons, and what seems a simple plot gets twisted like a Möbius strip.
The movie seals itself in a grotty, empty flat with peeling, blood-red wallpaper and boarded-up windows. The initial, wordless shots of the kidnappers shopping in B&Q for soundproofing, bolts and chains are sickening, as the bedroom becomes a prison. The first-time director and writer J. Blakeson plays on the audience’s anticipation of exploitative violence and rape, and then ramps up the mundane instead. There’s more Co-op minestrone soup than murder — at least to begin with.
Blakeson must be applauded for his minimalism: three actors in three rooms in three acts. Made for £1.5 million, this little British film has gone mega-multiplex after a successful round of the film festivals. Its cramped setting showcases the characters to great effect. A creepy, bearded Eddie Marsan (Happy-Go-Lucky) is the controlling older kidnapper Vic, while the young Scottish actor Martin Compston (Red Road and Sweet Sixteen) plays the mercurial, bisexual Danny. His funniest moment comes when he tries, with increasing desperation, to flush a bullet casing down the toilet. His nastiest is when he says: “I love you, babe.”
The humiliations heaped upon Arterton as Alice Creed are never ending. Photos of her gagged and naked with The Sun by her tattoo are uploaded to terrify her rich estranged father into providing the ransom pronto. Alice is tied to a bed, has to pee in a bottle, her mascara runs wild, and — most horrifying — she has to wear what looks like a purple tracksuit from Primark. Yet Arterton proves her abilities as a silent and speaking actress — the film turns, at one point, on her single glance in a mirror. She may be playing a Disney princess next month, but she has shown proper British pluck taking on this difficult role.
As the film progresses, the powerless become powerful, and the lines between captive and captor waver — sometimes a touch repetitively. The dialogue founders, and several scenes have jumpy cuts and dodgy continuity. The dull background is economical, as it was in Paul Schrader’s Patty Hearst, in which the late Natasha Richardson played her part entirely from a dark cupboard, before crossing over to her captors’ cause. Indeed, Blakeson said he was inspired by one scene in Ron Howard’s Ransom, about a rich boy who turns the tables on his kidnappers.
Perhaps Alice Creed strays too far into voyeuristic lads’ mag territory. Perhaps it is more a play than a cinematic thriller, but in the end it adds a whole new set of wacky mind games to the kidnap genre. It will be fascinating to see what the mysterious J. Blakeson does next, with more cash.
In Sunday Times
