Richard Ayoade’s ‘Submarine’: the success of bottling indie aesthetic
Cast your mind back to 2010, a time without the overbearing influence of social media, Donald Trump had not yet infected America with his odious influence, and the world seemed altogether simpler. Of course, it’s easy to look back with rose-tinted glasses. In the early 2010s, the British economy was still recovering from a brutal recession, with this damaging financial environment likely explaining why a twee, indie aesthetic took hold as austerity-era period pieces and alternative fashions were revived.
With fashion leading the charge, contemporary media soon followed suit, with indie rock providing a strong antithetical alternative to those who weren’t too keen on the EDM sounds of David Guetta, Skrillex and Diplo. Led by such popular tunes as Kings of Leon’s ‘Use Somebody’, The Lumineers’ ‘Ho Hey’ and Two Door Cinema Club’s ‘What You Know’, ‘Indie’ became an aesthetic movement as distinctive ‘goths’ and ‘skaters’.
As music made its mark, so too did cinema, with Marc Webb’s movie 500 Days of Summer, Jason Reitman’s Juno, and Wes Anderson’s Fantastic Mr. Fox. Indeed, whilst many filmmakers prospered, Anderson thrived more than most, with his twee, expressive filmography being perfectly engineered for such a time of whimsical media. British director and niche screen star Richard Ayoade was wise to such an influence, too, using Anderson as a key touchstone for his own beloved 2010 film, Submarine.
Fueled by the contemporary beatnik energy behind the success of the aforementioned artistic ventures, Ayoade’s film bottled the twee indie aesthetic with precise accuracy. Adapted from Joe Dunthorne’s 2008 novel of the same name, the film is led by the adolescent wannabe pop philosopher Oliver Tate (Craig Roberts), a young 15-year-old teenager who is spurred by the urge to lose his virginity before his next birthday and extinguish the love blossoming between his mum and her ex-lover.
A quintessential example of the twee sentimental dramas that flourished during the late 2000s, Submarine speaks to the perceived anguish of adolescence, with Oliver going through something of an early identity crisis. “I’m not quite sure that I’ve found my special skill yet,” the protagonist muses to himself during the opening of the film, “I’ve tried smoking a pipe; flipping coins; listening exclusively to French crooners; I even had a brief hat phase, but nothing stuck”.
Bulging with adolescent woe, Tate’s struggle to find his identity reflects the efforts of thousands desperately trying to squeeze into the definitions of indie culture. Purchasing a vinyl player, using quirky Super-8 cameras and listening exclusively to The Smiths, Tate is the poster boy for such a movement, with Ayoade’s film being a charming time capsule which refers back to a time when the indie aesthetic prevailed above all.
Inspired by 1960s French cinema, especially the vibrant 1960 film Zazie Dans le métro, Ayoade played with Submarine like a member of the Bew Wave movement. Using peculiar cutaways, asides, monologues, and moments of poetic realism, Ayoade provides the perfect platform for Tate’s own personal melodrama, which plays out with the same dynamic vibrancy of a teenager’s hectic mind. He even gave the protagonist his own original score from one of the greatest indie/rock icons of the time, Alex Turner, who had just released his third studio album with The Arctic Monkeys, and was very much a pertinent figure of the time.
It all culminates in a film which Tate feels as though he could have conjured from the scribbles of his own journals, fit with an original indie score, poetic expressions of emotional pain and the influence of French cinema. It may all sound terribly dated, yet Ayoade’s handling of the material makes it more of a warm hug to revisit, no less because, whilst the film succeeds in expressing the alternative aesthetic of the time, it is also a genuine, charming and honest reflection of youth.
Often sarcastic and satirical, whilst the creativity of Tate is taken seriously throughout the film, it is also greeted with a slight smile as if Ayoade is the protagonist’s parent who looks at his son’s relationship struggles from a distance, detached from the melodrama of young love. Featuring a fallible, damaged main character, it is Ayoade’s intention to focus on adolescence in transition, where maturity is questioned and identity is desperately pieced together.
Just like Tate, who visits the beach just to stare out at the sea “as though I’m in a documentary about a prominent thinker who’s struggled with unspeakable loss,” the indie aesthetic of the early 2010s focused on pain, loss, love and above all, melodrama. Few films bottle this charming allure better than Submarine, capturing all the best bits of the style without the grit of cynicism, just like a teenage ‘phase’ that arrives with the same pace as it leaves.
