Trainspotting

Shame! Shame on me for not having watched this one sooner! 28 Days Later is one of my favourite films, so it felt only right to watch Danny Boyle's iconic black comedy Trainspotting next. I think the themes of drug abuse (and my fear of needles, which feature VERY heavily) initially put me off, but I quickly surrendered to the chaos, humour and horror that define the furious frenzy that is Trainspotting.

Trainspotting follows the tumultuous life of Mark Renton (Ewan McGregor) and his struggles with addiction and recovery. We cannot begin anywhere other than the legendary 'Choose Life' monologue that opens the film. As Renton is chased by the police, hit by a car and plays football with his mates, he sardonically lists the supposedly 'utopian' aspirations of every self-respecting young adult of 1990s Britain: 'choose good health, low cholesterol and life insurance....choose leisure wear and matching luggage....'.

'But why would I do a thing like that?' Renton muses as he injects heroin into his veins, 'I chose not to do life. I chose something else.' The speech immediately establishes the violent dissatisfaction and tension simmering within the drug-fuelled subculture of Trainspotting. In rejecting mainstream ambition, Renton sees himself as a rebellious non-conformist, pursuing desire and pleasure above all else.

Set in Edinburgh, Trainspotting wallows in mud, blood, vomit and perversion. Renton and his ragtag group of friends spend their days taking heroin in a dingy flat where a young toddler is left neglected. The first thing to note is that Trainspotting is completely unashamed of itself, fearlessly confronting the depravity of the underground world it depicts.

As Renton struggles with his addiction, he takes opium suppositories, which he accidentally loses in a fit of diarrhoea. In one particularly revolting scene, he dives into a putrid toilet to retrieve them - I physically gagged alongside Renton as he sank his hand into the clogged bowl. It is in moments like these that Trainspotting feels unique, providing an undeniably visceral experience that forces physical responses from its viewers. In a dreamlike twist, Renton's entire body is slowly swallowed by the toilet and he disappears from sight. We watch as he floats serenely in blue water, diving down towards two glistening suppositaries, narrowly avoiding naval mines. It is darkly comical, but deeply unsettling considering the vile reality of the situation. Boyle weaponises this simmering discomfort throughout the film, refusing the audience a moment's peace before the next mishap.

Back in real life, Renton's friendship group is an unforgettable hodgepodge of characters. Begbie (Robert Carlysle) is a psychotic, sadistic thug whose own unique 'sensory addiction' is manifested through awful acts of violence. Carylse's performance is phenomenal - a truly disturbing presence within an already unstable friendship group. One character remarks, 'Begbie's a fucking psycho, man. But he's a mate, so what can you do?' This toxic interdependence lies at the dramatic heart of Trainspotting: the men are long-time friends, but their relationships revolve mostly around drug and alcohol abuse. They frequently fail to support one another in a meaningful way, opting instead to act selfishly in pursuit of the next high. The one apparent exception appears to be Tommy (Kevin McKidd), who avoids their toxic pastimes, preferring exercise and hikes in the highlands. However, when Tommy's girlfriend Lizzy dumps him, he finally succumbs to heroin and rapidly transforms into a spotty, pale living corpse.

What startled me about Trainspotting, for all its drab misery, is how beautiful it often was. Some scenes even reminded me of West Side Story, with bold blocks of colour draping the frame. The nightclub scenes feel sweaty and loud, yet pulse with an undercurrent of dissatisfaction and anxiety. Renton frequently monologues poetic dissections of 90s youth culture, exposing it as a disturbia. Boyle pins these speeches against dirty backdrops saturated with sex, drugs and action, overwhelming the senses, reflecting how lost Renton feels in the noise of his own life.

Whilst Trainspotting's scatological fascinations (I am not going to discuss the scene that comes to mind) did mildly scar me, I maintain that it exhibits a fearlessness that makes it uniquely arresting. Boyle pushes this to the very limit when, back in the crack den, the neglected child is found dead. As Allison (the mother and resident user) screams in horror, Renton, unable to face reality, offers her another hit. It is a devastating moment that Boyle refuses to shy away from, going so far as to show the baby's body in the cot - a reminder that, whilst the film plays with humour and fantasy, its central themes have devastating consequences.

When Renton is finally arrested for robbery, he is given a chance to avoid a prison sentence if he commits fully to recovery. To our frustration, he relapses and nearly dies from an overdose. Locked in his childhood bedroom, a bizarre sequence follows as he suffers with major withdrawals: heavy techno pulses, Renton's parents take part in a drug-themed game show, Begbie appears in his bed and the deceased baby crawls towards him on the ceiling. McGregor is absolutely fantastic, raging in his sheets as guilt, depression and desire consume him. The frenetic sequence flits rapidly between comedy and horror in an overwhelming nightmare of emotions - it is a brilliantly compelling watch.

Working as an estate agent in London, Renton remains clean and independent from his old life. This stability quickly collapses when Begbie (on the run for armed robbery) and Sick Boy (pursuing a career as a pimp and a drug dealer) arrive at his flat. Renton's safe haven is quickly tarnished by the corruption of his friends, who abuse his hospitality.

Having found 2 kilograms of cocaine by accident, the crew all reunite in London to sell their haul to a notorious drug dealer. As they celebrate their new wealth over a few drinks, the cheeriness of the moment is fleeting: Begbie assaults a stranger over a spilled drink and Sick Boy jokes that he would have stolen their money had he got the chance. The sinking feeling finally sets in for Renton that these men will lie, cheat and con anyone for their next hit of dopamine.

Lying awake in his cramped, dirty flat, Renton suddenly gets up and gently removes the cash-filled bag from Begbie's sleeping arms. He leaves for good, sharing one final look with Spud, who watches silently in shock. Renton's final monologue mirrors his first as he finally reclaims his own narrative: he leaves on his own terms, screwing over his 'so-called mates' and putting himself first. The inciting incident isn't nearly as dramatic as one would anticipate, considering Boyle's characteristic flamboyance; it is merely a momentary trigger that sets Renton in motion. Secretly, he leaves Spud some of the money, allowing him to spend the money on his mother and a (hopefully) better life.

'The truth is that I'm a bad person, but that's gonna change. I'm gonna change. This is the last of that sort of thing. I'm cleaning up and I'm moving on. Going straight and choosing life.' As he walks off into the haze of summertime London, Renton smiles hopefully. We have witnessed his failures countless times, but his final trip into the unknown genuinely feels like the beginning of new story. Are we naive to think he is destined for better things? Potentially.

As the credits roll and the iconic tune by Underworld plays underneath, Renton's familiar list of mundane aspirations feel distinctly different - no longer sardonic and cutting, but loaded with optimism.

8.9/10

Yours sincerely,

The Film Buff