First Date (2021) is an auspicious feature-length debut from the writing/directing duo Manuel Crosby and Darren Knapp where audiences are welcomed into an inconsistent but undeniably watchable caper flick and reminded to ‘keep your feet off the coffee table’.
Disclaimer: This page contains affiliate link(s) to streaming platforms. This does not impact our content or editorial decisions. We may receive a commission for purchases made through these link(s).
You know how to make an entrance
The film starts wonderfully.
A frantic Tony (played by Todd Goble) is badly stuffing a suitcase whilst on the phone, trying to convince a woman he only met for one date to run away with him to Mexico.
It’s fast paced and engaging – the energy is spiky and palpable. We stay mostly static as we struggle to keep up with his flailing body and rapid, desperate speech.
It demands the audience to keep up and infer what’s going on.
The cold opener ends with Tony dying, sprawled out on the floor next to the phone as the woman on the other end breaks up with him. Gorgeous.
I love that you give me space
As we slide out of the twangy title music, the film establishes itself as something that is clearly and delightfully aesthetically considered.
From the outset and throughout, we often view the action on screen from behind a door or through a window.
Similarly thoughtful is the accompanying sound design: First Date utilises distance and delayed sound extremely well; isolated noise punctuates whilst a static shot allows us to sink into the world.
It’s a gentle introduction to the characters, laden with silence and subsequent breathing room.
The first shots of main character Mike (Tyson Brown) cycling through the suburbs crackle in the pastel, grainy, film-like texture that sustains for the whole picture.
There’s a dreamlike haze infused into the look of this Sundance nominee that can only come from filmmakers utterly in love with the craft.
It feels like we’re being toured through the writer/directors’ cinematic influences – you can almost brush your fingers against the texture of their taste – adding a personal feel that charms you profoundly easily.
What do you want from me?
I’m hesitant to describe the plot for multiple reasons – partly a compassionate desire to avoid spoilers, partly a confusion as to what it actually is.
There’s a flimsy set up involving frequent, sudden and speedy suspensions of disbelief.
It relies on a few classic tropes (a pejorative description would label them cliches) that seem at odds with the persistent visual flair.
There’s a scene about 35 minutes in which is utterly inexplicable, featuring confusing and anonymous motivations, yet features a delicious POV shot in which characters interact directly with the camera.
The presence of comedy presents another challenge – the severity of the humour repeatedly feels unearned amongst a relatively docile plot. It constantly teeters on the brink of surrealism but then sort of backs out and retreats to a light and tender tone.
The scenes moment to moment feel too intense and give the film a lopsided feel, and I was left yearning for a commitment to either strong and bizarre, or pleasant and benign.
What results is a wonky tone as if the comedy is too weak for how strongly the actors are throwing it.
Poor Ryan Quinn Adams spends absolutely all of his screen time yelling really quite banal lines (Henry Zebrowski-esque) in a way that feels as though it’s meant to be funny. It elicits initially a flinch, and eventually a desire to silence the film whenever he appears.
The car is a magnet for mess and chaos
On a character level the film spreads itself too thin – there’s a significant lack of comprehensive introductions and solutions to most characters’ storylines.
It leaves the impression of a confused narrative unaware of which of its components are functional and which are extraneous.
Who are these people? What do they actually want? Why should we care about them? What are they even talking about half the time?
There are subplots that leave you questioning their purpose long after they’ve concluded (THAT OLD COUPLE. WERE WE SUPPOSED TO FIND THEM SUSPICIOUS!? I STILL DON’T KNOW.)
This severe lack of clarity becomes the most apparent in the third act, when almost every character meets in a warehouse.
The film doesn’t seem to understand the purpose of who these people are and why they’re all here, as about 90 straight seconds of completely unintelligible shouting between them all ensues, followed by over 5 minutes of shooting.
The geography of the shoot-out is likewise unclear (who is shooting at who?) and just renders the whole thing inaccessible and bewildering.
Less is more…sometimes
It’s the quiet comedy that hits the best – the subtle mishaps in the background that seem almost accidental.
There’s a detail at one point where a character simply struggles to dress themselves; it appears to disrupt the whole scene as the focus transfers from the plot onto simply trying to help this character put their top back on. It’s a brilliantly funny and effective moment.
Comparably skilful is the way stark realism sparkles in the screenplay. Moments like being relegated to the backseat of your own car, asking “Um, where are we going?” slightly too softly only to be ignored feel so sharply observed, the discreet writing and acting shine.
The only instance where the delicacy becomes frustrating is in the realisation of its main characters. Mike and Shelby Duclos’ Kelsey are really quite simplistic protagonists to be at the centre of a crime-filled adventure; Mike in particular is passive to the point of distracting.
Whenever he gets into very legitimate, actually quite easy-to-explain trouble, he never seems that passionate about getting out of it.
Kelsey occupies the opposite side of the spectrum – a character with a hidden death wish, she gets into unnecessary problems by making volatile and strange decisions.
I had to check if that police officer was Whitney Cummings
Writing this review has been a strange exercise for me, because I was utterly baffled by what I actually thought of this.
It’s a product that somehow becomes weaker than the sum of its parts – almost every individual piece is so noticeably great independent of the plot itself.
Primarily, the problem is a main character who is the background of their own story, revealed to be almost inconsequential to the actual story that happens around him.
In the end it all becomes for nothing – no consequences, no lessons learnt, antagonists who quite literally walk away scot-free into the night.
But if we are able to judge all of these flaws as mere teething problems traditionally symptomatic of a debut, then we see just how promising of a creation this actually is.
Narrative cohesion is a skill well-oiled over time, but a refined eye for original and captivating visuals is unteachable, as is the enthusiasm. It’ll be exciting to see what further emerges from this creative team.
The film certainly gets one thing right though – the police are scary.
Credits
Editor & Artwork: Richard Williams
Journalism graduate passionate about writing, film and bothering people with her thoughts about both. Believes the cinema is a strictly solo activity. Frequently described as ‘intense’ and ‘shorter than I thought’.
I own this thing. Being creative makes me tick. Film lover. Coffee hater. Website manager, headline and copywriter, video editor, graphic/motion designer, editor, presenter...
