What it’s about: A biopic of the British author, the film follows Alex (Cole), who grew up in an abusive children’s home, coming to stay in a hostel in Brixton, London, in the early 1980s. His passion for reggae music helps him assimilate with the local African-Carribean community, particularly his hostel neighbor Dennis (Jules), but that community is currently under threat from brutal policing, experiencing a lack of institutional support, and dealing with terrorist attacks. After participating in the 1981 Brixton riot, Alex is sent to prison for a few months, where his cellmate Simeon (Gee) encourages him to connect with his roots and find knowledge and expression through books.

Reflections: The fourth of McQueen’s five Small Axe films, this one’s simple, slice-of-life premise and slight running time don’t really capture what this is doing, the way in which it succeeds more on the level of creating a sense of immersion and texture than it does diving into its subject in a complex investigation. The movie is filled with the thick patois of the character’s naturalistic speech, the undulating sounds of reggae, the colors and patterns and movement of 1980s London. There is a scene where the stiff, white-assimilated (sort of) Alex is taught to walk with swagger. The viewer becomes enmeshed in the community as Alex–always an outsider, growing up–does and it’s effective in communicating the youthful spirit of a young man searching for self-definition.

The structure, which finds the adult(ish) Alex in prison relating his story to Simeon, who will serve as a mentor and guiding figure–is canny. I’ve seen this entry being criticized for being a little more emotionally distant than its companion films, but that distance is kind the point–this is the story of a young man being asked to explain himself and not being sure how to do so. Alex is meant to be a little bit of a cypher, an slightly undefined protagonist, because the film is about him struggling and reaching for that definition–only at the conclusion does he actually begin to find it. And Cole’s (debut) performance carries that tricky balance beautifully–a mixture of defensive bluster, earnest naivete, and wounded vulnerability. It’s not shy in its social criticism of British society, but all of that is couched and grounded in this particular character and his unique experience.

As a biopic, it is light–capturing a moment and a feeling more than the essential details of a life as a whole. But it’s an easy film to digest and get lost in, and it captures both the cultural specificity of its time, place, and people, but also the more universal feeling of trying to sort a messy childhood into an identity in the adult world. If it feels a little less engaging in context, that only speaks to the high bar set by the other films in the series. As a standalone feature, it’s maybe a little unsatisfying in its reach–it made me more curious about the real Wheatle than it did provide a portrait of him–but it’s still tightly constructed to hit on a more subtle, emotionally-driven wavelength and is absolutely worth checking out.