The latest from the increasingly productive Mat Whitecross (director behind SEX & DRUGS & ROCK & ROLL and, most recently, ASHES), SPIKE ISLAND is a flashy perusal through nineties nostalgia and Mancunian vernacular, structuring a fictitious story around a landmark period of British rock where almost all of the coming of age tropes are dispensed in an inconsistent and schizophrenic manner.

The year is 1990 and The Stone Roses are taking the British rock scene by storm. They are held in particularly high regard in their hometown of Manchester, which is also home to a team of ragtag teenagers looking to emulate their favourite band in every conceivable way. The gang – comprised of Tits, Zippy, Dodge and Little Gaz – have formed their own group: Shadow Caster (sometimes misspelt as Shadow Castre by the dim-witted but talented Dodge, the band’s mastermind), and hope to hand a tape of recorded rehearsals to their musical heroes, who will be taking the stage in their upcoming, and now infamous, outdoor concert at the titular Spike Island.

During their desperate attempts to secure tickets for the large-scale gig, Tits (played by Elliot Tittensor) struggles to come to terms with his ailing father and an older brother whose elusiveness causes ruptures in an already tangled relationship. Similarly, other members of the group experience personal roadblocks that threaten to destroy their dreams of attending an event that promises to define a generation.

Amiable and lively with a strong recreation of the period, SPIKE ISLAND is, however, almost entirely scattershot and hampered by a banal and sometimes laughably amateurish screenplay…

Amiable and lively with a strong recreation of the period, SPIKE ISLAND is, however, almost entirely scattershot and hampered by a banal and sometimes laughably amateurish screenplay from Chris Coghill (who penned the equally uninspiring WEEKENDER last year). However much Whitecross tries to create an energetic vibe through bitty camerawork and a playful visual implementation of a clock counting down to the big day, the tone is imbalanced and resembles music videos at their most flashy and uninvolving.

Although the presence of Lesley Manville, playing a tired-eyed and put upon matriarch with vulnerability and effortless pathos (see Mike Leigh’s ALL OR NOTHING), raises a glimmer of hope amongst the relatively stolid acting surrounding her, it does little to lift the film above a mildly diverting evocation of a bygone era. Like the band the characters (and clearly the filmmakers) so admire, SPIKE ISLAND is all about the flash and bang of rock & roll, striving to capture that giddy feeling of sex and drugs whilst refusing to settle down to anything particularly rewarding, either dramatically or emotionally.