The Craic Behind the Camera: Lola Petticrew and the Art of Authentic Storytelling
There’s something deeply compelling about films that don’t just tell a story but live it. Clio Barnard’s I See Buildings Fall Like Lightning, premiering at Cannes, is one such film. But what’s even more intriguing is the human story behind it—particularly the journey of Belfast-born actor Lola Petticrew. Personally, I think this isn’t just another Cannes debut; it’s a testament to how authenticity in storytelling can transcend borders, both literal and metaphorical.
When Birmingham Meets Belfast: The Power of Shared Struggles
One thing that immediately stands out is the film’s setting in Birmingham, a city often overshadowed by London’s glitz. What many people don’t realize is that Birmingham’s gritty, working-class ethos mirrors the spirit of places like West Belfast, where Petticrew and co-star Anthony Boyle hail from. It’s not just about geography; it’s about the shared experience of communities grappling with inequality and identity.
From my perspective, this connection is what makes the film’s exploration of class and social conflict so resonant. Petticrew’s character, Shiv, isn’t just a role—she’s a reflection of the struggles faced by countless individuals in similar towns. What this really suggests is that storytelling, at its best, is a bridge between worlds. It’s no coincidence that the cast built rapport with locals; they weren’t just acting in Birmingham, they were inhabiting it.
Chemistry That Transcends the Screen
Here’s a detail that I find especially interesting: Petticrew and Boyle didn’t need a chemistry test because they’ve known each other since they were 11. If you take a step back and think about it, this kind of real-life connection is rare in cinema. It’s not just about professional collaboration; it’s about a shared history that seeps into every scene.
Their journey from playing siblings in Come Home to portraying paramilitary operatives in Say Nothing, and now parents in Barnard’s film, is a masterclass in versatility. But what makes this particularly fascinating is how their off-screen bond elevates their on-screen dynamics. It’s not just acting—it’s a lived experience translated into art.
Major Craic and the Seriousness of Life
Despite tackling heavy themes, the cast found moments of joy—or as Petticrew puts it, “major craic.” This raises a deeper question: How do artists balance the weight of their work with the need for levity? In my opinion, it’s this duality that makes storytelling so human. The film’s characters are grappling with adulthood, pressure, and conflict, but the actors themselves found laughter in the process.
What this really suggests is that art isn’t just about the message; it’s about the journey. The fact that Petticrew and her cast mates could find humor amidst the seriousness of their roles speaks to the resilience of the human spirit. It’s a reminder that even in the darkest stories, there’s room for light.
The Broader Implications: Cinema as a Mirror
If there’s one thing this film and Petticrew’s journey highlight, it’s the power of cinema to reflect society. Adapted from Keiran Goddard’s novel, I See Buildings Fall Like Lightning isn’t just a story about five friends—it’s a commentary on the pressures of modernity, the scars of inequality, and the bonds that hold us together.
From my perspective, what’s most striking is how the film manages to feel both deeply personal and universally relatable. It’s a testament to Barnard’s vision and the cast’s commitment to authenticity. In a world where storytelling often feels manufactured, this film feels lived.
Final Thoughts: The Art of Being Human
As I reflect on Petticrew’s journey and the film’s themes, I’m reminded of the power of art to connect us. Personally, I think this isn’t just a film about five friends—it’s a film about all of us. It’s about the roads we’ve taken, the conflicts we’ve faced, and the moments of joy we’ve found along the way.
What this really suggests is that storytelling, at its core, is about being human. And in a world that often feels fragmented, that’s a message worth celebrating. So, here’s to Lola Petticrew, Clio Barnard, and everyone who dares to tell stories that feel real. Because, in the end, isn’t that what art is all about?
