Synopsis: Class struggle becomes all too real as a young doctor moves into a modern apartment block in suburban 1975 London. Drugs, drink, & debauchery dissolve into murder, mayhem and misogyny in this pseudo-post-apocalyptic breakdown of societal norms based on J.G. Ballard's novel of the same name.
Genre: Drama, Dystopia
Director(s): Ben Wheatley
  4 wins & 12 nominations.
119 min


For all its inconveniences,

Laing was satisfied with life

in the high-rise.

Now that so many of the

residents were out of the way,

he felt able to relax.

More in charge of himself.

Ready to move forward

and explore life.

How and where, exactly...

I see the rot's set in.

...he had not yet decided.

Do you fancy a drink?

Cosgrove is here.

All boys together.

Sometimes he found it

difficult not to believe

they were living in a future

that had already taken place.

Oh, Christ!

Oh, bad luck.

Or is it good luck?

I can never remember.


So sorry.

I'm so sorry.


I'll survive.

I don't doubt it.

You're an excellent specimen.

I thought you were empty.

Yeah, I... I just moved in.

I'm Charlotte Melville.

Hi. Sorry,

I must have fallen asleep.

God, I hope we haven't

frightened him off.

- So what if we have?

- I say.

- Yeah?

Why don't you come up later

and have a drink?

- I'm having a party.

- Thanks, I'll try.

What time do you

want us tonight?

- Seven sharp.

- That reminds me.

I haven't given you

your birthday present yet.

You know you're not my type.

Besides, shouldn't you be off

to the television studios?

I'm not their type either.

Come on.

I can't.

I haven't drunk enough yet.

I don't wanna disappoint them.

What is Helen feeding you?


She's too depressed to cook.

I should have married

someone like you.

- Stoic and perfectly breasted.

- Mm.

You know, I'd dearly like to get

in between those thighs of yours

one of these days.

You really are too much

sometimes, Wilder.

Am I?

Has something happened

that could cause a build-up

of negative energy?

My sister died recently.


Yes, of course.

Sorry, it's just people normally

lie here and just... lie.

To get an extra ten minutes,

you know?

I don't have an extra

ten minutes.

"All large rubbish bags...

No large bags."


- I'm sorry?

- They block up the chute.

I don't have any children, so...


They urinate in the pool.

I'll remember that.

Fifty-eight. Male.


Myocardial infarction.

Bit of an old tortoise,

wasn't he?

Respect shouldn't be set aside

with any perfectly natural

feelings of revulsion.

Now, in time you may specialize

in the clinical treatment

of mental illness,

research into its origins,

development or manifestations.

But let's start with

the nuts and bolts.

As you can see, the facial mask

simply slips off the skull.



You've taken a fall.


Yes, I'm afraid I'm not

very good at this sort of thing.

- Slotting in, you mean?

- Yes.

I was rather expecting to find a

certain kind of anonymity here.

Don't worry, people don't

usually care what happens

two floors above or below them.


Charlotte's different. She's on

all sorts of committees.

She said your tenancy

application was very Byronic.

- Did she really?

- Mm.

Well, I'm determined to

get everything right.



- Yes, thank you.

- Come on.

- Helen:
Which floor are you?

- Laing:

One floor down.

- Tennis?

- No, squash actually.

That's 20, I think.

Why here and not

a bachelor pad in town?

An investment in the future,

I suppose.

I felt like I needed a

clean slate to put my mark on.

We're down in the bottom,

in all sorts of shadows.

Most families are.

Real ones, anyway.

You blocked the chute.

- I'm sorry?

- This is Steele. He's in teeth.

You don't know how things

work around here yet, do you?

No, but I'm a fast learner.

I'm an orthodontist,

not a homosexual.

Good for you.

Steele fixes the children.

I'm afraid they eat

too many sweets.

Helen's an armchair


She cares, that's her thing.

- Have you heard of recycling?

- No, I...

What she hasn't grasped

is the detrimental effect

of all these rotten toothed

little imps.

The women around here

would help the planet more

by keeping their legs crossed.

This one's late.

Doesn't want to come out.

- Vicky:

- Mm?

Toby's got a radio set.

You have to build it yourself.

Can I have one?

If you're good.

Is that your wife going into

the bathroom with Cosgrove?

Cosgrove reads the news.

Have you seen him on TV?

- Laing:

- Helen:
He's very good.

Very convincing.

Excuse me.


My husband can't bear it.

He's been making a documentary

about it for years but...

...I think he's lost his focus.

Excuse me?


Thank you very much.

Elevator voice:

Floor 25.

Oh, f***.

Hi, Jean, it's me.

Listen, I'm not gonna

come in this morning.

Wait. What about Munrow?

Did he turn up for that scan?

Okay, good.

Well, leave it on my desk

if it turns up.

And no, no, I don't need

anything. It's all here.

- Hi.

- You didn't buzz.

Was I meant to?



You haven't changed.

I'm sorry, I don't think I can.

Oh, well. Your loss.


Are you the new doctor?

Yeah. Yes, I am.

But not the kind

you probably need.

If someone's injured,

I can call the infirmary.

Mr. Royal wants to see you.


I'm sorry, who?

This is a very nice lift.


You won't be needing that.

Elevator voice:

Floor 40. Penthouse.


Ah, Doctor Laing.

I hear you play squash.

Yes, I do. You built all this?

Dreamt. Conceived.

I hardly rolled my sleeves up.

Course, the project's

far from finished.

There will be five towers

in all, encircling the lake.

Something like an open hand.

The lake is the palm and we

stand on the distal phalanx

of the index finger.


I've put all my energies

into this tower.

I'm its midwife, so to speak.


It looks like

the unconscious diagram

of some kind of psychic event.

That's good. Can I use that?

By all means.

Of course, I'm a modernist

by trade but you, a doctor,

will understand

one prescribes as required.

That folly out there

is for my wife.

Her chief distraction

is the careful cultivation

of an intense sort of nostalgia.

For what?

Why delve?

My car was crushed

by a reversing cement truck.

I'm afraid I'm not

a physiotherapist.

I know what you are,

Doctor Laing.

Constant exercise

is the only thing

that keeps the pain at bay.

So you could say not only

am I the building's first

road casualty, but I am the

architect of my own accident.

What do you think of that?

- Is that a horse?

- Probably.

My wife rides.

On the 40th floor?

This is Simmons,

one of my go-betweens.


...we met.


Friday, six a.m. Hmm?

- Laing:
Why not.

- Royal:
Hmm. Good.

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Amy Jump

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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