A blend of Kneecap and Sorry to Bother You, James McAvoy’s directorial debut, California Schemin’, is a refreshingly upbeat tale of the pitfalls of fame. It features a pair of winning performances at its centre, irresistibly infectious musical numbers as well as a playful energy that carries it through the more conventional plot points.
Telling the true story of Gavin (Séamus McLean Ross) and Billy (Samuel Bottomley) as two aspiring rappers from Dundee, California Schemin’ begins with the pair working in a grimy call centre: Billy is easy-going and content with his quiet life and girlfriend Mary (Lucy Halliday), entertaining colleagues with his English accent, with Gavin being quieter but more driven, desperate to break into the music industry.
After being dismissed by haughty music producers who mock them as “the rapping Proclaimers,” Gavin hatches a plan – taking advantage of Billy’s flair for accents, they reinvent themselves as an American rap duo Silibil N’ Brains, with an aim to expose the hypocrisy of the music industry live on MTV. Their hoax quickly gains traction but as success beckons, the line between satire and ambition begins to blur, forcing them to question what they really want.
Watching this for the first time, I wasn’t sure whether I was watching a biopic or a fictionalised story. Or if it was a true story, if the main actors were even actors, or the real people themselves, as with Kneecap. Both leads are simultaneously too convincing as performers to just be rappers, and too comfortable on the mic to just be actors. That ambiguity works entirely in the film’s favour; their relative anonymity and musical credibility adding to the verisimilitude.
As Gavin, Séamus McLean Ross is the ostensible hero of the story; the driving force behind the pair, and the one who dreams of leaving Dundee, where he is an outcast and target for bullies. His later heel turn comes a little out of left field, yet he convinces as someone desperately trying to cling onto his newfound popularity. Samuel Bottomley arguably has a trickier job. As an English actor playing a Scot posing as an American, he needs to be convincing on multiple levels and succeeds, revealing layers of sensitivity beneath the cocksure exterior. There’s a protectiveness in Billy’s attitude towards Gavin that subtly shifts as their success grows, and the way that change affects each of them differently is one of the film’s strongest threads.
Kneecap is an obvious touchstone, and the fact it starred Michael Fassbender and this one feature McAvoy is a nice bit of behind-the-scenes serendipity. McAvoy casts himself as the arrogant music producer and wisely realises that less is more, and doesn’t take too much attention from the stars. Less successful is James Corden, who turns up as the head of another label – it’s just impossible to see him as anyone but himself, and his performance is self-indulgent. Lucy Halliday is brilliant as Mary though, providing much needed common sense without feeling like a downer – she’s the only one with her head screwed on, and her relationship with Billy is the sweetest part of the film.
While it’s not a huge surprise this is based on a true story – what is surprising is the collaboration of the real people involved. Neither Silibil nor Brains are cast in a particularly flattering light. As their star rises, Billy cheats on Mary with a member of their entourage, and Gavin slips dangerously close to sociopathy in both his deception and the way he manipulates his one-time friends. McAvoy never glosses over the less attractive traits of his main characters, and the result is a film that feels more authentic than many music biopics.
McAvoy has been vocal about the lack of Scottish voices in Hollywood and the arts in general, saying that Scotland is purely seen as a place with rampant unemployment, substance and domestic abuse. And it would be easy to see this film as his way of putting his own response down on celluloid. But this isn’t simply a matter of “those clueless English snobs don’t understand our Scottish accents” – there are definitely caricatures of London media types here (the two producers the pair initially meet are horrible snide), but the film is pretty even-handed. In the final denouement, he addresses this directly, highlighting the pair’s inexperience, insecurities, and their own prejudices.
In a broader sense, this is a reaction to bleak Scottish films made over the years. The settings of some Scottish films can be gloomy and barren, but McAvoy seems determined to present it in as bright an environment as possible. The industrial landscapes are still there, but there is a definite tone of optimism rather than the cynical sadness of Ken Loach or Peter Mullan. There is drudgery in the call centre, but it’s the repetitiveness of the job that’s depressing, not Dundee itself. McAvoy also demonstrates a real eye for composition, even poking fun at Scotland’s own cinematic heritage with a Trainspotting mural, which is pointedly painted over by the film’s end.
It might just be that this year has been particularly lacklustre in terms of cinema releases, but California Schemin’ feels like a real breath of fresh air. It hits familiar, even clichéd beats but also the pitfalls of fame, as the lies come back to bite them. And yes, there is sex, drugs, and rock n’ roll, but the central relationship means the film never feels unimaginative. Both Mclean Ross and Bottomley give energetic, charismatic performances, and sell the rap battles – I’m not an expert on rapping by any stretch of the imagination, but they were pretty convincing to me!
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