The understatement that defines the film’s style, reigning in both the humour and pathos of the film to engaging and tasteful effect, goes far beyond the standard dose you’d expect from any British film. A consequence not only of the marvellous script, but also - according to the directors - an organic evolution of the film throughout the process of its creation. There were also budgetary constraints (£25k) limiting the set to Will’s parents’ house and a paltry selection of other locales, which contribute undoubtedly to the film’s brilliant subtlety.
Chris Langham (in his first appearance since the unpleasantness, it is mandatory to point out) plays Tom, a middle-aged suburbian whose textbook detachment from his wife (Amanda Hadingue) and seldom-presence of his daughters see him fill a void of affection by inviting a curious, somewhat autistic stranger, Blake (Colin Hurley), in for tea, having just met him on a dog-walk. The film explores Tom's stale marriage, and its effects and atmosphere are portrayed compellingly, realistically and humorously, as are the effects of Blake's arrival in the home; an outside force alters the mood in the house and communicative barriers between Tom and his wife accordingly.
Blake’s final deranged request is what sees the family hounded, sensationally sinisterised by the tabloid newspapers, although the film runs us through events leading up to rather than around that aspect, making for a richer portrayal of altogether more perfunctory emotions/relationships. There are improvised talking heads scattered throughout the film where Chris Langham shines - his pacing, affected stumbling and distinctive voice are hilarious and heart-wrenching in equal measure, reminding us of what a tragedy the fate of his career really was, and what great performances might have been.
Tom’s daughters (Helen Cripps, Anna O’Grady) live in a flat with Tim, played by writer-director Will Sharpe, who is in some turmoil about his simmering, simultaneous romantic feelings for both of them and starts to see a very amusing quack psychiatrist played by Simon Amstell, who provides the most direct and obvious comic relief.
As Langham said in the Q&A following the screening, it’s the little things that make the bigger emotional impacts, and this is very true in Black Pond. Though generally endearing and entertaining, the obtusely off-kilter ramblings of Blake can occasionally seem convoluted and unconvincing, where as the small, more mundane details – for instance, Tom neglecting to put out enough wine glasses at the dinner table – can be just as heartbreaking as the grandiose melodrama of the brutal kitchen argument scene.
Chris Langham may not return to his mainstream heyday of The Thick Of It, Help! etc. but he exudes a sincere desire to act in any work which resonates with him personally, regardless of the profile of the film or the money involved, and so there is a good chance he could muster an artistically satisfying career. What's more, the 24 and 25 year old writers/directors of Black Pond, surely stand at the foot of a marvellous career themselves.