Fish Tank: Life’s a Bitch and Then You Die

Here in America, we take Francois Truffaut’s title for granted, but “The 400 Blows” translated more accurately approximates the English phrase, “Raising Hell.” With this translation in mind, watch Fish Tank, the sophomore feature film from writer/director Andrea Arnold. Hers is a contemporary (read: feminine) homage to The 400 Blows that follows adolescent Mia around her lower class neighborhood in Essex, UK.

Mia tears through her world like a wrecking ball, fighting, breaking with friends, and essentially raging against the machine. And even though all she does from the title card to the climax is make trouble, it’s impossible not to admire her brassiness, and her restless search for emotional and sexual intelligence through good old-fashioned trial-and-error. Hers is a neighborhood steeped in a mutated all-white hip-hop culture and sorely lacking in afterschool programs, and the weight of poverty and entropic summer vacation make for an under-stimulating existence.

But boredom leads to curiosity, and at 15 Mia is ready for a sexual awakening. When Connor (Michael Fassbender) arrives in her kitchen one hungover morning with his shirtless Adonis bod, puppy dog smile, and paternal constitution, she thinks she has finally found her Prince Charming. Best of all, he is plowing her mother, so she can exact revenge and quench her curiosity all with the same bone. The film builds a framework of sexual longing and a palpable chemistry that is more sexy than scandalous despite its pervy undertones, that is, until the two inevitably give into their urges and the bubble bursts.

Based on the post-screening outrage in the IFC ladies’ room, it’s apparent that pedophilia and adolescent sexuality are still American movie-goers’ favorite topics. Ours is a culture seemingly fixated on deflowering, still dumbly fascinated by Nabokov’s nymphette. The masses pretend to be rankled, and yet these movies keep making money and winning awards. 1999’s Best Picture Winner American Beauty re-opened the Lolita file, making way for films like Catherine Hardwick’s Thirteen, and Alan Ball’s failed follow-up to American Beauty, Towelhead, in which Aaron Eckhardt’s character has sex with a 13-year-old. 2009 yielded two Oscar-nominated movies that broach the subject, Precious and An Education, (both mentioned in the ladies room.) But why does shock and controversy prevail when, in truth, most young women have a shady early sexual experience? How else do women learn where to throw up boundaries?

While Fish Tank doesn’t quite claim the dubious sexual encounter as a rite of passage, other films cast these experiences as shameful and damaging. The “victims” in Thirteen, Towelhead, and Precious have a loving mother, a concerned neighbor, and a social worker, respectively, to intervene, but Mia has only herself. Even so she emerges from the situation marked, but stronger than before. Arnold’s story triumphs in territory where the others have failed because it is so commendably objective—yes, Mia has been taken advantage of, but no, she is not irreversibly damaged. Her sexual encounters are only a part of her “coming-of-age” and they don’t define her. She learned.

Perhaps the reason Mia’s metamorphosis is so well realized onscreen is that Arnold shot the whole movie chronologically, and only let the actors see script pages for upcoming scenes a few days in advance. Combined with the over-the-shoulder handheld cinematography, and the impeccable casting, Fish Tank has the feel of a documentary. The claustrophobia of their tiny apartment compounded by the film’s square aspect ratio pares Mia’s world down to its smallest size and accentuates her sense of confinement.

Any attempt to synopsize Fish Tank will make the film sound grim and dreary, but in truth, it is rife with fun, femininity, and an underlying sense of nostalgia, as though Arnold approached the subject matter fondly, and with forgiveness. Mia’s fuck-it attitude can be delightful to watch, and her abundant mistakes are ultimately instructive, allowing her to cheerfully embrace Nas’ wise words, “Life’s a bitch and then you die.” -Christianne Hedtke

Writer/Director: Andrea Arnold