The title alone signals the unserious nature of what’s to come, reinforced by the film’s opening “Based on a true lie” disclaimer. However, the reality “California Schemin’” recreates points to a pre-social-media era when reinvention was truly plausible.
Retrospectively, the 2000s were a weird time for rap music. The turn of the millennium birthed wannabe Eminems, and music television shows were still crucial to an artist’s growth, status, and success. At the time, rap still required clever lyricism; new rappers wrote bars with a chip on their shoulder, giving them underdog energy audiences love to root for. When Gavin (Seamus McLean Ross) and Billy (Samuel Bottomley), two blokes from a small town in Scotland, hear about an open call from one of their favorite London record labels, they know this is their shot at stardom.
Together, the duo takes the stage as Sillibil N Brains. Their underwhelming, punny group name and their sk8rboi fashion, down to the chinstrap beard, are so true to the early 2000s. As those white boys play their funky music, the studio executives immediately start laughing in their faces. As an American, I can identify accents from English-speaking nations, but they’re rarely a reason to exert prejudice—the opposite of how it is in the United Kingdom. After all but being pulled off stage by an oversized hook for simply being Scottish, Gavin and Billy return to Dundee with vengeance in their hearts. Shortly thereafter, they return to London for another chance, this time as two dudes from across the pond.
“California Schemin’” is quite linear, making it obvious what’s to come. The audience is never taken aback by the main characters or their actions. Naturally, they do drugs, they have sex, and they fight as immature boys do. The inevitable rift in their friendship feels formulaic, showing how much the story’s intrigue hinges on their partnership rather than on them as individuals. Tessa (Rebekah Murrell), who discovered Sillibil N Brains at an underground show, is the film’s most steady character, like a voice of reason. “You’re authentic,” she reassures Gavin, whom she calls only Brains, after their big debut. Her reassurance and genuine support are upsetting, but not heartbreaking, because authenticity is the last adjective that accurately describes the boys.
Writers Elaine Gracie and Archie Thomson draw “California Schemin’” from Gavin Bain’s real-life memoir of the same title, California Schemin’: How Two Lads from Scotland Conned the Music Industry. Without having read the book, most of the story still feels copy-and-paste. While it comedically captures the rappers’ fast rise and fall, the writing feels a bit safe, especially for an R-rated film. This story about friendship finds depth in the intricacies and complications of creative partnership, but it’s clear that is not the movie’s central intent. While each line and lyric is delivered with care, the substance lies only in the audience’s projection.
What elevates the emotion of each moment is longtime actor James McAvoy‘s direction. Despite this being his directorial debut, McAvoy shows a strong ability to command a scene, even from behind the camera. Yet his onscreen role as the evil Neotone executive who controls Sillibil N Brains’ future also lets him lead by example. McAvoy’s recent array of serious, almost sinister characters suits his age and experience, and he’s so convincing that it sparks curiosity about his demeanor as a director. Similar to the writing, the framing and movement are safe. The performance scenes, where McLean Ross and Bottomley bring a lot of passion, would benefit from more experimental camera work, as seen in many rap music videos of the time, which could strengthen the audience’s belief in Sillibil N Brains as a worthwhile musical act.
Reflecting the musical aesthetic of its time, “California Schemin’” is visually at its best because of its lighting. From clubs to grungy green rooms to studio sets and venue stages, the shifting exposure creates realistic environments. A few segments of camcorder footage let the film settle even more into its time period. The camera’s distance keeps everyone apart, which detracts from the bond the audience is meant to feel. In the end, the movie’s mixed tonality and technical and narrative dissonance muddy all that sincerity.
