Review of Happy-Go-Lucky (2008) by Remote G — 31 Jan 2011

By Angelica Pancake for remotegoat on 04/08/09.

These days we're so cosy in our different bubbles with our divergent world views that it's difficult to spawn a contemporary hero we can all collectively relate to. I'm not saying it ever really did - but one size certainly does not fit all. With a grain to fight against Happy-Go-Lucky presents us with Poppy, a perpetually chirpy primary school teacher who confronts the dispirits of the times with cheeky backtalk and a smile.

"Road to reality... don't wanna be going there," is the first thing Poppy says, gaily, and the ensuing onslaught of a 2-hour refusal to show anything other than upright and outright cheer makes Poppy something of an enigma, and also a foil for us to see how miserable and judgmental we really are. She is invariably full of merriment - like 100 giggling schoolgirls condensed into one smiling whole, and we meet her dressed in obnoxiously bright colours riding a small-wheeled bicycle through the streets of London. It's not long till the bicycle is stolen and she's learning to drive with Scott, a misanthropic instructor who is agitated by Poppy's backtalk and clowning around, but agrees to suffer her because he has never lost a pupil. They agree to meet at 12pm every Saturday, with the relationship becoming increasingly difficult as the weeks go by, Scott irrevocably himself with Poppy pushing all the wrong buttons.

It's a cute and endearing film - one of those where you bond with the characters and miss them once it's over. Or something like that. It gets into nooks and crannies of social tension and addresses our attitudes to other people, our social graces - the small but consequential stuff that never grabs headlines but makes for thoroughly relatable and real material, like poor customer service: like unhappy shop assistants. Scenes to look out for include Poppy's encounter with a homeless man, and a driving lesson in which two black boys cycle past the car causing Scott to shout: "Lock the doors! Lock the doors!".