Calibre - Dir. Matt Palmer

Fresh from a win and a multitude of plaudits at the Edinburgh International Film Festival, Matt Palmer’s debut feature arrives on Netflix, lying in wait to test the nerves of any unsuspecting viewer.

Expectant father Vaughn (Jack Lowden) somewhat reluctantly agrees to a hunting trip with childhood friend Marcus (Martin McCann) in northern Scotland. A night of heavy drinking in the village pub leads to devastating consequences during the following morning’s woodland hunt.

To say anymore would potentially spoil what is a straightforward but effective film, as we watch Vaughn and Marcus see out the rest of their trip. From the very beginning, there’s an uneasy dynamic between Vaughn and Marcus: they’ve known each other for 15 years, but they’re no longer as close as they once were. As the trip begins to morph into the nightmare it will become, the pair are forced into an alliance built from who they were and have been, and not who they are or will become. There’s a level of trust and Palmer exploits the shortfall throughout the pair’s nervous conversations.

Similarly cautious are the close-knit community of villagers whose lives will soon be turned upside down. Palmer could’ve easily sent his travellers on the road to a Summerisle (or even a Sandford), but steers them elsewhere just before the first glimpse of any hilltop wicker working. Instead Culcarran is village that suffered during the economic downturn and hasn’t seen the investment that has enabled surrounding areas to thrive.

Again, Palmer toys with, but ultimately avoids, the familiar movie tropes of rural villages and their residents. Unofficial village spokesperson Logan (Tony Curran) is more welcoming and genuine than the stereotypical nosy pub patron but he still has a knack for keeping tabs on Vaughn and Marcus throughout their stay.

The tension and excitement that comes from Palmer acknowledging and defying many of our expectations isn’t quite matched when he eventually does commit to the story he’s telling. The inherent structure of the story leaves too great a gap in the build up to an inevitable turning point, and there isn’t quite enough drama to sustain it. I picked up on certain details and potential developments that weren’t taken any further – but nor did they feel like obvious red herrings intended to lead me astray. The actions of some of the thinly sketched supporting characters end up feeling more like necessities of the plot, rather than associated behaviour; others, like Kate Bracken’s Iona, are sadly relegated to bystanders as the story approaches its conclusion.

It’s easy to see why Calibre was a hit with a festival audience: being able to go in with few expectations or distractions is an enviable position to hold; perhaps the early rave reviews from Edinburgh sest my expectations too high. Only time will tell if the film’s direct journey onto Netflix will prove to be a worthwhile one for all involved. I’m inclined to say that I may have enjoyed the film more if I were sat surrounded by fellow cinema patrons and not on my sofa listening out for the melodic beeps of the washing machine reaching cycle’s end.

CALIBRE premiered at Edinburgh International Film Festival 2018 and is now available on Netflix