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For Cameron (Colin McCredie), a slightly nervous and poorly attired possibility, the experience haunts him. For Hugo (Keith Allen), his cool, experienced and mysterious demeanour is barely challenged. Billing himself as a writer-traveller type, he immediately establishes a rapport with Juliet. To at last find someone capable of parrying their triple assault is a relief; Hugo is close to selection. Only a single question remains, has Hugo killed anyone? With a rapid flashback to the grisly demise of a cash machine customer (David Scoular), Hugo doesn't miss a beat as he replies in the negative.
A quite remarkable debut, Shallow Grave heralds the entrance of three different characters onto the British film scene. In a collaboration that bore both critical and financial accolades, Danny Boyle, Andrew MacDonald and John Hodge create a view of Scotland far removed from Braveheart. Here three mostly unlikeable pals are able to get away with murder. Given an opportunity to make themselves wealthy via only a little unpleasantness, the ethical vacuum of greed comes to dominate. What's ironic is that as this quality becomes amplified, so their general personalities exaggerate. Alex becomes even more reckless, David increasingly insular and Juliet bounces between the two extremes. It's somehow fitting, and inevitable, that the prize, which binds them ever tighter together, will be the flywheel that destroys them.
Driven by Hodge's amusing, if occasionally obvious, script, Shallow Grave mixes comedy and horror to decent effect. The vectors of this blend are the central stereotypical trio, ably played by McGregor, Eccleston and Fox. The former, in particular, impresses as a talent worth watching; his energetic party-boy antics deliver a crucial counterweight to the latent darkness of Shallow Grave. Much of this gloom seeps from Eccleston, the quiet one who spirals into paranoia following unfortunate trauma. As it happens this sudden descent occurs rather too abruptly for comfort, though the results are worth this bumpy transition. Rounding off the bunch, Fox is a plausible sink for erotic obsession and handles her role's lack of scruples with ease. There is, however, a definite sense of missing something with Fox, the feeling that a better actress could have reached scarier depths.
What really impress though are the production values, belying the small budget. Within their spacious flat, Boyle and MacDonald tinker happily with the design and colour of Shallow Grave, paying homage to their favourite movies. It is, however, beyond these walls that perhaps the scene of greatest imagination arrives, with Hugo's victim. Shot from behind the cash machine screen, bland, green text flashes up with every blow of his skull. As the furious tattoo ceases a bus washes past, luridly lighting crimson red the oozing blood. A memorable instant in a film with buckets of style. The pity is that Shallow Grave depends too heavily on its visuals, hoping to distract from the insubstantial story. At the time of viewing this is a mostly successful ploy, yet later the plot's paltry depth becomes obvious; padded by pointless subplots and diversions, this is not a tale that withstands detailed analysis.
Ultimately, despite the waywardness of the finale, it's fun to watch these three intellectual snobs get their comeuppance. The flatmates have a great chemistry, flippantly playing off one another, hiding a fragile kinship. When, like lottery winners, the world shifts beneath their feet and overwhelms these ties, it's a change which Boyle savours. He plainly doesn't care whether you like the people in Shallow Grave; it's enough that they be watchable.
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