The Black Balloon

You could be forgiven for thinking that if you’ve seen What’s Eating Gilbert Grape, you’ve seen The Black Balloon. With its tale of a resentful teen constantly needing to cope with the care of his autistic brother, The Black Balloon will win no prizes for originality, but it’s acted with such respectful conviction and directed with such delicate grace that it deserves to find its own audience. Charlie (Ford) needs round the clock surveillance if he’s not to run around the streets in his underpants or smear his shit on the bedroom floor, both of which brother Thomas (Wakefield) discovers to his cost when he’s not giving the situation his undivided attention. He’s often understandably occupied by the usual teen boy pursuits of chasing girls and keeping the news about Charlie from his new classmates. Mostly he just wishes his brother were normal. The scenes of Charlie at his most uncontrollable are beautifully constructed and Collette impresses as the pregnant mother trying to hold her chaotic household together. If you were being uncharitable, you might accuse Ford of courting award recognition by playing a mental, but that would be unfair as it’s a performance not just of gurgles and tics, but a fully formed character capable of mischief and tenderness and rage, not to mention wanking at the dinner table. [Paul Greenwood]