LFF Review: ‘In Camera’
Anchored by a hauntingly captivating, incredibly nuanced performance from Nabhaan Rizwan, Naqqash Khalid’s In Camera is a stylistically assured, boldly original directorial debut that cements his status as one of the most exciting and audacious new voices in British cinema.
It’s hard to believe that In Camera is Naqqash Khalid’s directorial debut. A film so confidently directed, so stylistically assured, and so boldly original, it knows exactly what it wants to say and just how to say it. Khalid, who also co-wrote the film, cycles through multifaceted themes of identity, capitalism and cultural assimilation with the aplomb, precision and focus of a filmmaker with decades of experience and technical expertise under his belt, delivering a powerful indictment of the British film industry that also doubles as a cathartic character study of a young man let down by a constrictive system that has been forced upon him.
In Camera centers on Aden (Nabhaan Rizwan), a young actor who can’t quite seem to find his big break. Coasting from audition to audition without ever landing a role that involves more than a single line of dialogue, Aden is scrambling to pay rent for the flat he shares with Bo (Rory Fleck Byrne), a young healthcare professional who is seemingly in over his head at the hospital he works at. If Aden is struggling to find work, Bo is inundated by it, coming home at extremely late hours and slowly starting to lose his grip on reality due to lack of sleep. Their daily routine is interrupted by the arrival of Conrad (Amir El-Masry), a charismatic stylist who, unlike Aden and Bo, seems to have his life together. With Conrad’s influence, Aden slowly begins to realize that in order to be accepted in an industry that wasn’t built to include him, he might have to change who he is, a realization that leads him on a path of inner and outer transformation – perhaps at the cost of his true identity.
As the anxious and reserved Aden, Nabhaan Rizwan delivers what should easily be a star-making performance, boldly capturing his character’s inner turmoil and communicating his tumultuous emotional journey through his eyes alone, saying more with his physicality than what many actors struggle to convey in full spoken monologues. With supporting performances in beloved HBO series Industry and romantic drama The Last Letter from Your Lover under his belt, in addition to a scene-stealing turn in Mogul Mowgli, Rizwan has been circling around the periphery of stardom years now but in his first ever leading role, he proves he is more than capable of holding his own, turning in a hauntingly captivating, incredibly nuanced performance as Aden. Rizwan effortlessly immerses himself into his character, bringing forth a raw intensity that is at once both mesmerizing and unsettling to watch.
Elsewhere, Rory Fleck Byrne delivers a solid if understated performance as the overworked Bo, while Amir El-Masry imbues the film with some much needed chaotic energy as the charming and charismatic Conrad. Savvy and confident, Conrad could have easily come across as a stereotypical caricature in any other actor’s hands, but El-Masry’s distinct voice and mannerisms further enhance the believability of the character, adding layers to what may have easily been a one-note role. The bulk of the film rests on the electrifying dynamic between these three men, who at first glance, could not seem more different.
Initially, it’s not quite easy to parse what exactly it is that Aden, Bo and Conrad have in common. But as the film progresses, one can’t help notice that there’s a performative nature to Conrad, an air of bravura that seems put on or rehearsed rather than natural or innate. And suddenly it all clicks; Conrad has been through exactly what Aden and Bo are experiencing. But instead of holding on to his sense of individuality, he instead has chosen to assimilate, to adhere to the standards and expectations of a society that refuses to make space for people like him. Conrad has transformed himself into a more presentable or palatable version of himself, one that has allowed him to thrive at the expense of his own personal identity.
And like a twisted fairy godmother of sorts, Conrad is slowly giving Aden and Bo the tools that they themselves need in order to transform, equipping them with the glass slippers and pumpkin carriage that would allow them to integrate themselves into society at large. And thus they unwittingly (or perhaps wittingly) end up becoming two more cogs in the well-oiled machine known as capitalism, losing their sense of identity in the process.
It’s a dark yet highly nuanced conclusion to the film, one that raises more questions than it provides answers – and that was perhaps most certainly the filmmaker’s intention. In opposition to the character of Aden, Khalid never once feels the need to water down his film or make its message more palatable for general audiences. There is a version of In Camera that could have probably been more accessible, more straight-forward and easier to digest for potential audiences, one that would have made sure to hold its audience’s hands by taking a more direct and thus more diluted approach to the film’s storyline. But Khalid is more interested in doing things on his own terms, and In Camera is all the better for it. By sticking to his guns, Khalid has crafted a haunting, darkly comedic and twisted fairytale of sorts, one that takes a sharp knife to the underbelly of the British film industry, gutting it and spilling all of its ugly insides for the world to see, all while cementing Khalid’s status as one of the most exciting and audacious new voices to watch. It’ll undoubtedly be interesting to see what he decides to tackle next.
In Camera screened at the 2023 London Film Festival.