Glasgow Film Festival 2024: ‘Hoard’ Review
Stars: Saura Lightfoot Leon, Lily-Beau Leach, Hayley Squires, Samantha Spiro, Joseph Quinn | Written and Directed by Luna Carmoon
In 1980s England, Maria (Lily-Beau Leach) lives with her mother Cynthia (Hayley Squires), who is an obsessive hoarder. Struggling at school, Maria seeks solace in the unique yet dysfunctional lifestyle that the pair share together. In the 1990s, 18-year-old Maria (Saura Lightfoot Leon) struggles to come to terms with her past when she meets Michael (Joseph Quinn).
Arguably, one of the best sub-genres in film history is the British working-class flick. Never shying away from what needs to be said, these movies get gritty with the facets of life that most of us — including the wider media — would rather turn a blind eye to. Quiet and unassuming, the best of the bunch soar into view to command a voice that becomes timeless, but unfortunately, Luna Carmoon’s debut Hoard is not a title to throw into the mix.
On the surface, Carmoon’s preface is both heady and necessary. Hoarders often aren’t people illustrated unless they’re the subjects of some diabolical reality TV show, presented through the framework of desperately needing pity in order to change. Squires’ Cynthia is completely free from this, proud of the woman she is while simultaneously entrenched in her own denial. The mechanics of this — alongside the severity of the situation — aren’t really explored, yet in the opening half hour it doesn’t particularly matter. Hoard’s strength lies solely in Cynthia and Maria’s endearing yet concerning relationship, which is ripped away from viewers just as the dust settles on a fresh layer of scrap tin foil.
Where Hoard falls down is everything that comes next. Wildly disjointed and questionably paced, the magic that is carefully draped into the film’s opening third almost proves to be for nothing. As older Maria collides alarmingly with her past, the movie’s grasp on its own tone of voice disintegrates, leaving a pile of hobbled-together chaos in its wake. Nothing feels particularly cared for, nothing is explained or astutely reasoned, and nearly everything descends into monotonous mulch. On top of this, Hoard becomes a chore, heralding little reward for working towards its ending.
Clearly, Luna Carmoon is an incredibly exciting storyteller. In Hoard, it’s obvious that she’s working with something that is intricately personal, pulling together a range of ideas that should sing in that sort of “never-before-seen-in-British-cinema” way. Perhaps it’s because she’s flying too close to her reality or that the avant-garde speaks to her, but her debut never quite realises the potential she sets up for — which is the most disappointing factor of all.
What we can ascertain is that whatever Carmoon does next is going to build on her inherent knack for conveying a truth, and that her prowess in the industry is undoubtedly going to take up increasing space. For now, Hoard can be looked back on as a starting point, both for Carmoon herself and a broader untouched subject matter.
** 2/5
Hoard screened as part of this year’s Glasgow Film Festival.
