We don’t always fall in love with the people we expect, and it is more common that we have a particular kind of person whom we pursue, which can sometimes be complicated when encountering someone who captures our heart, despite not being anyone that we would have expected to be the source of such emotions. Clio Barnard explores this concept in Ali & Ava, in which she tells the story of the titular pair, one a working-class son of Pakistani immigrants trying to make a living while dealing with a wife who has fallen out of love with him, while the latter is a middle-aged teacher who has a bevvy of children and grandchildren, but feels unloved as a result of not having a romantic partner for over a decade, which she views as a result of being an older woman in a culture dominated by youth. These two individuals encounter each other by chance, and we watch as a romance blossoms between the two, which makes this one of the most heartwarming and compelling romantic dramas of the current decade, and a film with as much heart as it has provocative ideas, all tenderly placed throughout this film by a director whose dedication to this material was beyond admirable. This is especially potent in how it is an elegant and compelling examination of several issues that exist within British society, which aligns with most of her previous work, which examined the national identity and its cultural practices in some way or another. It is not an overly dense or wildly ambitious film, but it has a strong message that may seem obvious on the surface but is explored with such honesty and genuine complexity, curated by a filmmaker with a strong enough vision to capture new aspects of the frequent discourse. It all amounts to a charming and endearing drama with a deep sense of self-awareness and a sensitivity that is remarkably concise and always very compelling, which adds layers of meaning and helps situate this film as one of the more soul-stirring dramas of the past few years.

There has been a fear that traditional kitchen-sink realism, the kind perfected by the proverbial “angry young men” of British cinema in the 1950s and onwards was gradually disappearing since it was far more feasible to layer in overwrought emotions and more satisfying conclusions when dealing with major subjects, and the fact that the two remaining filmmakers that work under these conceptual guidelines (namely Ken Loach and Mike Leigh) are in the final stages of their careers didn’t add any encouragement for the survival of the genre. However, while she may not be quite as bleak in her worldview, Barnard does have a firm sense of what makes these films so captivating, and she is thoroughly committed to exploring various subjects, each one meticulously pieced together to create a vivid and meaningful examination of the human condition, a subject she has often used as the starting point for her films, both the narrative and non-fiction projects she has crafted over the years, each one memorable in how it offers something valuable but distinct, covering a range of fascinating subjects. Ali & Ava is a very tender film, and she deserves credit for being able to craft something that feels this engaging, while also provoking an immense amount of thought, which is important when dealing with a topic as broad as racism and prejudice. Barnard challenges herself to investigate these issues in a way that is effective but doesn’t lean too heavily on the discursive aspects of the subject, since the film is not about conveying the idea that racism is negative (which is an obvious and objective fact that doesn’t even need to be stated), but rather exploring the root of these biases, without defending or condoning them, but rather focusing on a broader picture of the culture, which is rendered in extraordinary detail throughout this wonderfully captivating and deeply moving film.

Everything about Ali & Ava revolves around the titular characters, with Barnard writing a pair of extremely compelling, interesting individuals that are unique and compelling in equal measure. The aspect that makes this film so intriguing is how she avoids cliche at every possible moment, and these characters are the most solid, meaningful proof of this principle in practice. She casts two exceptional actors, with Adeel Akhtar and Claire Rushbrook turning in astonishing performances that are deeply human, navigating this story with such heartfulness and genuine empathy. We often forget that we are watching actors, since every emotion they convey feels genuine, and they carry themselves with the same sense of authenticity we would expect from these characters, inhabiting their existential state and conveying the same psychological and emotional burden the people they are representing doubtlessly experience. There is a genuine sense of empathy underlying these performances, and both actors are willing to put in the work to bring them to life with such complexity, but the rare kind that doesn’t register as being actors working laboriously to develop characters, but rather wonderfully compassionate artists united to tell a simple but evocative story, working in collaboration with a director who put in the effort to find the right people for the roles, even if they were not the most obvious choices for these characters. Their ability to oscillate between humour and pathos is admirable, and their earnest sense of commitment helps give the film such a vibrant, meaningful aura. The performances delivered by the two leads are incredible, and lend this film so much nuance, which is quite an achievement considering the immense simplicity with which this story was told.

Considering the narrative limitations in which Barnard and her cast had to work, it is clear that Ali & Ava is a film that is driven by a very important issue, but one that comes with certain elements that needed to be covered more than others, sometimes without it even factoring into the story. This is neither the first film to focus on the topic of a couple from different racial and age groups, and it most certainly will not be the last, and while it may not be as challenging as a film like Ali: Fear Eats the Soul (with which it seems to exist in communion, even if only spiritually), there are certain aspects that are incredibly important. What is most objectively notable is that this is a film that seems to be actively avoiding becoming overwrought – there isn’t any need to put effort into describing the hateful discourse spewed by bigots, since any critically-thinking viewer will come with that knowledge, which then allows Barnard the space to craft a more delicate and unique depiction of the subject, exploring the deeper implications and consequences of bold-faced bigotry, not only on the social level but also in terms of the psychology of the victims that come into contact with this discourse. There are a few moments of heartwrenching despair, but it never feels forced, since Barnard takes care to avoid turning this film into 90 minutes of sympathy-provoking commentary, and instead makes a few bold decisions with the material. Any film made on such a subject that can find new ways of discussing it while remaining nuanced and sensitive is certainly worth our time, and we constantly see a director with sincere compassion for the story being told crafting a film that pays tribute with honesty and integrity, rather than simply finding the most obvious sources of emotional resonance in an already heartbreaking narrative.

A small and intimate film with an enormous sense of humanity, Ali & Ava is a very special work that proves how Barnard is one of the most unheralded contemporary filmmakers, and someone who is worth exploring further, especially since every one of her films seems to be ambitious in different ways. This is one of her more simple films in theory, but this doesn’t necessarily mean it is predictable or without artistic merit, as there is an abundance of both scattered throughout the story, which becomes more obvious the further we explore the story. The combination of a simple premise, well-defined characters that are not resistant to change, and a genuine sense of curiosity about the relationships that form the foundation of the film are an exceptional combination that we find works splendidly in the context of this story, which is most effective when it isn’t too overly audacious, but instead focuses on the smallest and most seemingly inconsequential details that add layers of meaning to an already quite compelling film. There may be certain aspects of this film that are controversial, especially about the subject of identity and the importance of a more diverse set of voices behind the camera, but the intentions behind Ali & Ava are nothing but honest and deeply moving, and we see a film that actively engages with its audience, challenging us to look deeper, finding the intricacies in everyday interactions that are so deeply meaningful. Powerful, poignant and heartwarming, Ali & Ava is a wonderfully meaningful film, and the kind that may not introduce any new ideas, but instead offers a deeper perspective on concepts of which we are all familiar, but still require constant thought in the continued effort to change the way we view certain issues that are perpetually relevant.