Clown

Glenn Barden’s sensitive and wry film is well cast, and Ricky Grover is perfect as Danny; the witty lines are made for him, and we only have to hear him crunching the ice of his drink to realise how much anger lurks inside him. An air of melancholy hangs over all from the moment of his release from prison (perhaps the soundtrack here could have done without the burst of music). “Who am I?” says Danny, and the irony of his erstwhile mate Joe’s reply is chilling: “You’re the godfather”. For it is not the world of religious instruction that Danny is familiar with. But he wants to make amends, to start over. Joe wants to start over too, and he no longer needs Danny. “Things change. People change”. There is nothing sacred in friendship. “See you around”, says Joe with dismissive consolation. There is an agony in being funny. We meet desperate clowns in a support group. We see lonely people with red noses. Indeed, there is a clown in all of us. To find one’s clown is difficult. Danny is no Tommy Cooper. How unimpressed are his godson and friend by his desperate attempts at performing! They pop balloons and prick his bubble. Rejected and dejected he goes in search of his clown, of his life, and of that which will exorcise his demons. Alec Cole