By: Dominic La-Viola
Cairn Creagh’s latest film Samata Nobody is one of the most beautifully shot films in recent memory. Rarely do I encounter a film in which cinematography is so completely the driving force. David Grennan’s work behind the camera brings the film to life through breathtaking, tactile visuals — notably without reliance on CGI.
There is hardly a weak shot in the film; every frame is crisp and meticulously composed, which at times becomes part of the problem.
The hilltop scene overlooking the water, and the frames of Samata in the sound booth, are astonishingly inviting. The imagery is so carefully balanced and visually seductive that it can momentarily obscure some of the film’s more fundamental weaknesses, particularly within the script.
This is a rare case of a film that appears elevated yet rests on a fragile foundation. The story has strong underpinnings, but its execution falters.
At its core, the film is a character-driven drama about a homeless girl born addicted — someone with nothing, trying to find her way. Music becomes her refuge and primary means of coping.
Despite the dark subject matter — drug abuse, dealers, homelessness — the film often feels as though it is censoring itself. The users and dealers come across as softened, almost cartoonish. Though violence and drug culture are present, they feel restrained, limiting the depth that greater realism might have brought to both character and world.
Creagh’s script feels constrained, even as his direction is more assured. Samata is established as straight-edge due to her upbringing, but when she begins drinking to cope with her circumstances, the tonal fabric of the film scarcely shifts. We observe her deterioration and withdrawal from music, yet the film’s emotional atmosphere remains largely unchanged.
While individual scenes achieve depth, the overall tone is almost too consistent — an issue that circles back to the cinematography. Its perpetual polish works against the material; certain moments would have benefited from a rougher visual texture, even in small doses.
The score, by contrast, does vary in tone, creating emotional contrast where needed and restoring some balance. Given the subject matter, music plays an essential role, and here the film succeeds: the songs complement the scenes beautifully.
The performances are strong throughout. Ruby Jean Lennon makes an impressive debut as Samata, playing the role close to the chest yet still rendering the character deeply sympathetic. Brendan Conroy’s Jackie is equally well judged — approachable without slipping into caricature, a balance that keeps the character warm rather than cartoonish.
Ultimately, Samata Nobody struggles with a restrained script and a visual approach that is almost too pristine for its material. It is a film of striking visual control that ultimately reveals the limits of that control — a portrait of trauma rendered beautifully, but not always truthfully.