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Published: 08 July 2010
by DAN CARRIER

THOSE terrible events in the summer of 2005, when four bombs went off in London, still haunt all who were in the city at the time. The families and friends of the 52 victims will never forget, nor will the  Londoners whose lives were touched by the atrocity. 

I reported on the bombings, cycling through the streets of King’s Cross to spend hours by a police cordon as the emergency teams fought to save lives. I stood there, gathering information, ignorant that the girlfriend of one of my best mates had died that day at King’s Cross. 

This film by French director Rachid Bouchareb, released on the fifth anniversary of the bombings, brought back that terrible day. The London bombings are used as the starting point for a fascinating consideration of racism, of stereotypes, of how insulation breeds ignorance, breeds intolerance. It focuses on Elizabeth (Brenda Blethyn), a Guernsey widow who works the land of her small holding in the Channel Islands. Her daughter Jane is in London, and as Elizabeth is doing her gardening, she hears on the radio of the series of explosions. A worried phone call brings just an answer phone message, and despite repeated attempts to contact her daughter, there is no reply. 

Finally Elizabeth decides she must head to London and look for her child – and so begins a story that is every parent’s nightmare.

Meanwhile, Ali Ousmane (Sotigui Kouyate), is tending elm trees in France. He is contacted by his estranged wife and told that his son has also disappeared. He too travels to London. 

The pair are then thrown together in unexpected circumstances, as they try to learn where their children are. Ali  is an African Muslim, Elizabeth a white Christian. Their very different backgrounds mean they have cultural differences to overcome. It is a carefully paced and fascinating study of what preconceptions can mean, with two immensely powerful actors in the lead roles.

The film is shot on the streets of Finsbury Park: it provides a fitting backdrop, a London that is an antidote to the Richard Curtis-style, suave Notting Hill images we usually see of our city on the big screen. The drama plays out in the multicultural streets of Blackstock Road, Turnpike Lane, the ladders off Green Lanes, and other recognisable north London landmarks. It adds to the feel that this is a story that could have been about any and all Londoners. 

Even the odd ropey moment adds something. Occasionally the repeated use of one location is a tad implausible. Police officers are also not quite as believable as the two leads. But it’s a matter of budget, and is such a minor gripe it feels almost distasteful to mention it when Bouchareb’s low-budget film gets everything else exactly right. 

This is hard viewing, but how could it not be when dealing with such a tragedy?