kidulthood poster and newspaper review

'Someone has clearly done their homework'

Kidulthood claims to tell the shocking truth about the 'grime generation'. But would real teenagers agree? By Sophie Heawood

Set in the edgy streets of west London, Kidulthood seeks to depict the Notting Hill that is noticeably absent from the Britflicks of Richard Curtis. Over the course of little more than 24 hours, a group of mainly black friends and enemies navigate an urban teenage landscape of suicide, drug binges and underage pregnancy, with a healthy dose of gun crime and happy-slapping. The film's creator, 30-old-year Noel Clarke, based the story on events from his own childhood, drawing further inspiration from newspaper articles about hoodies and hoodlums. In his quest to paint a credible - and sympathetic - portrait, he also took care to cast local unknowns over drama school wannabes and reveal the reasons behind the characters' aggression.

1. Kidulthood
2. Production year: 2005
3. Country: UK
4. Cert (UK): 15
5. Runtime: 91 mins
6. Directors: Menhaj Huda
7. Cast: Adam Deacon, Aml Ameen, Jaime Winstone, Red Madrell

There are already signs that critical response will be positive: writing in the Observer, Miranda Sawyer described it as "a refreshing, energetic, modern movie that documents urban teenagers' lives with wit and vigour", while the Times said it is "telling some truths about secondary school life in urban Britain today". It's one thing for high-brow journalists to applaud the film as a wake-up call to New Labour, but quite another for it to win the support of the people it claims to represent.

And yet, if the group of 17- and 18-year-old black students I saw the film with are anything to go by, Kidulthood might succeed with them, too. In some ways, the world of Tara Jayne Manufor, Maria Christopher, Ama Wiafe, Anthony Pozi-Quansah, Martin Igbinedion and Neil Simpson couldn't be much closer to that of the teens portrayed in the film: they go to college in Notting Hill and mainly grew up locally, in single-parent families; one was a student at the school where the film was shot, others couldn't wait to see their old friend Femi Oyeniran play the role of Moony. As the opening credits faded, they squealed and pointed as they recognised their school, their corner shop, their friend's grandma's flat.

United by a love of music, regularly taking time out from studying for NVQs and A-levels to trek over to east London for grime raves, they were enthusiastic about seeing a film promoted as the story of the grime generation. But, having all rushed to see Bullet Boy and found it too heavy-handed, with its overemphasis on gun culture and clumsy attempts at street talk ("It was like they thought you could make it realistic just by saying 'man' every third word"), they were also sceptical, and resigned to being patronised.

Immediately, though, they judge the lingo of Kidulthood - with its "blud"s and "brer"s - convincing. "You can tell the actors were allowed to add their own words," says Manufor. "The language was spot-on. I could believe they spoke like that at home."

The film's producers also claim to have invited grime artists to advise on the soundtrack - a move, thought the group, that had paid off. "Someone had clearly done their homework on what to play when," says Igbinedion, an aspiring rapper. "They played Forward Riddim by Lethal Bizzle just as the fight scene was kicking off - as soon as that song comes on at raves, it's always accompanied by fights. The lyric goes 'Pow!' and the trouble starts."

All six are bothered, however, by the lack of music from the characters' own lives. "The soundtrack was good but they were not musical themselves - at our age everyone wants to be an MC, everyone is involved with music," says Wiafe. Aside from one rap at a party, music doesn't enter the characters' lives. Nobody is recording tunes in their bedroom, nobody even swaps CDs or listens to each other's latest ringtones. "Where was the Bluetoothing?" ask the boys, practically in unison - they're all used to swapping their latest creations within seconds. It was this absence of music that led Manufor to declare: "It wasn't a grime film."

They have other quibbles. Nobody could quite believe the viciousness of the yardie uncle, or the "ho-ishness" of the 15-year-old girl who performs sexual favours for drugs. In fact, Simpson doesn't feel that the 15-year-olds are all that convincing as teenagers: "They do things I didn't do at 15," he says, "things I would never dream of now that I'm 17." Igbinedion argues that the plot is "a bit far-fetched. You hear about guns and stuff, and I grew up in Bermondsey, near Peckham, which is renowned for being pretty rough. But you don't necessarily come face to face with it."

And where, asks Igbinedion, were the police? Why can this bunch of black youths walk down the street without getting stopped and searched on a regular basis? "Yeah, there were no Section 60s!" the rest of the group chorus, referring to the part of the criminal justice act that allows police to stop and search people without evidence. The boys are full of stories of being stopped, sometimes as often as fortnightly - though none has ever been charged with anything. "You can see why kids get as aggressive as they did in the film," says Igbinedion. "You don't start out that way, and I hate it when I see people getting stopped and asking the police, 'Oh, is it because I'm black' - it makes me wince, but you can't help but wonder."

What surprises the group most, though, is the lack of adults. Parents, when not absent, appear weak or misguided, oblivious to the danger faced by their own children. One well-meaning trendy mother calls through the door that her daughter should remember to use a condom, unaware that the girl's boyfriend is punching her in the face. The group are surprised that the 15-year-old couple are even allowed to be left in the same room together. The girls' view: "Subconsciously, you do listen to the rules. Of course, there's nothing physically stopping you losing your virginity before you're 16, but something tells you it's against the rules, so you don't." The boys, meanwhile, admit their mums would "go mental" if they got a girl pregnant, and point out: "At 15, you're thinking about sex, but girls are not giving out sex like pancakes - if you squeezed a girl's tits you're the kingpin!"

But there's also an awful lot about the film the group are impressed by. They recognise the overriding sense of hierarchy, the fear in the playground when the bully Sam turns up, before he's even done anything. Designer labels, the judgment of your peers - it all comes down to status. As Ama explains, "You're either up there or you're no one, you get shut out. My nephew's seven and if he hasn't got Nikes he ain't even going to school - the other kids would make too much fun of him."

Similarly, the sexual reputation of the girls, and the way that, when one boy has finished with a girlfriend, another boy can up his status by staking his claim on her, rings true. "With boys and girls it's a popularity thing, it's a fashion thing," says Igbinedion. "It's like, OK, he's done with her, now it's my turn. That's how boys look at it."

Overall, the teenagers were gripped by the film, thrilled to see a world they knew portrayed so vividly. Given their own experiences of racism, do they not think that Kidulthood could hinder their public standing?

Simpson feels the film "tries to turn a negative into a positive". Igbinedion agrees: "Think about it this way - what they're saying is you don't have to be like this, you could be a lawyer. They're saying, this is what we probably think of you, make us think otherwise. If you feel we're insulting you, do something about it"

Waqas