“Departures” is “inspired by all the dickheads that fucked us over.” How do I know this? Because co-directors Neil Ely and Lloyd Eyre-Morgan open the film with this exact statement. Yet the influences on their heartfelt, often horny gay British drama are far broader.
Eyre-Morgan, who also wrote the script, stars as a lonely thirtysomething named Benji looking for a connection of any kind following a particularly devastating breakup. Not even drink, drugs, or dick can snap him out of this funk. In fact, these various coping mechanisms are only making things worse. But Benji has a habit of wallowing in his misery, which explains why he decides to take a solo weekend trip to Amsterdam, staying in the exact same place he used to frequent so often with his ex.
Except Jake (David Tag) was never actually his. Not really. Like so many gays before him, Benji fell victim to a toxic situationship. The good thing, though, is that this thankfully ends in the film’s very first scene. From that point on, “Departures” takes us back to how the pair first met, with them both waiting at the airport for their separate flights to Amsterdam. Drawn in by their surprising chemistry, Benji and Jake spontaneously spend the weekend together and then continue to meet each month at the same location, all while keeping their home lives separate.
Turbulence hits, however, when it becomes clear that the pair want very different things out of this connection. Benji gives in to whatever Jake wants, desperate not to rock the boat, while Jake frequently pilots their relationship, taking control without giving much thought to Benji and his desires. The result is messy, intoxicating, and occasionally cruel, as such situation(ship)s often are.
Just as Benji and Jake regularly fly back and forth between Heathrow and Amsterdam, we also switch between the present and the start of the relationship, plus Benji’s formative years, too. There’s an irreverence in this that’s unmistakably British in tone, from Northern England, specifically, that favors dark comedy and self-deprecation over wallowing in the pain Benji has endured throughout every stage of life that we bear witness to.
Reviews have been quick to compare “Departures” to “Trainspotting” in that sense, mixing laughs in with the grit at hand. It’s a fair comparison in some respects, particularly given the lack of high-profile queer storytelling to come out of the region (“God’s Own Country” aside, which was hardly a riot). If anything, “Departures” brings to mind a recent BBC comedy named “Smoggie Queens” that also revels in caustic Northern humor without losing sight of the depressing reality that life as a queer man in that region can bring.
Much of that playful approach is apparent visually through various uses of multimedia. “Heartstopper”-esque sketches onscreen add flair and humor, even in some of the film’s more emotional moments, and the camera itself embodies that spirit as well, be it through a surprise POV switch, a change in aspect ratio, or the lo-fi aesthetic in archival footage of Benji’s youth. While some of these swings work better than others, you’re always rooting for the characters regardless, and it’s refreshing to see an indie actually take advantage of the relative freedom that comes with low-budget origins in today’s often sanitized film landscape. There’s a daring, “we don’t give a fuck” energy that fits Benji’s often risky behavior, even if he does, in fact, care way too much about how others see him.
An occasional over-reliance on voice-over hammers this home, verbalizing Benji’s constant need to be loved without giving the story space to breathe and reveal these beats more organically. Still, it makes sense to foreground Benji’s voice as a mouthpiece. The central monologue is brutally honest, giving voice to issues that are rarely voiced in such a relatable fashion onscreen, including toxic masculinity and negative body image within the gay community. Benji is an everyman, the kind who’s all too often pushed aside in favor of abs and a chiseled jawline, which is just as much a problem in queer media as it is in the queer community at large.
Humor softens the various blows that Benj is subjected to without undermining their impact. What could be a tonal whiplash instead feels seamless, thanks in no small part to Eyre-Morgan, whose performance anchors his lead’s self-destructive spiral. It’s rare to see stories onscreen navigate how internalized homophobia can shape a person, gradually eating away at who you are over time, without you even realizing the full damage that loathing yourself can bring. “Departures” smartly comes at this from Jake’s perspective later on as well, without excusing his treatment of Benji. Family rejection pushes Jake to reject himself, while Benji rejects love for himself, choosing abusive men who will validate his own deep-rooted lack of self-worth and care.
Tag’s performance as Jake in the latter half especially serves as a welcome reminder that British soaps can be a hotbed for talent — yes, even “Hollyoaks” — not to mention “Eastenders” icon Lorraine Stanley who steals multiple scenes as Benji’s mother Janet. Each performance rings true with an emotional intelligence that’s embedded throughout the script. As a result, even audiences who can’t directly relate to Benji or Jake will resonate with the honesty at play. But for gay viewers more aligned to these experiences, for those of us familiar with these “dickheads that fucked us over” firsthand, “Departures” is a cult classic in the making. And that’s true whether you’ve been fucked over by others or fucked over by yourself in a similar fashion to Benji’s own self-hatred.
Grade: B
“Departures” is now in select theaters from Strand Releasing.
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