Collision: A Dusty Little Drama That Doesn't Know When to Stop

Is it worth your time?

Honestly, only if you’re a completionist for early 1930s British cinema or you have a strange itch for films that move at the speed of a parked car. If you want something punchy, look elsewhere. But, if you like watching people sit in parlors being terribly uncomfortable while pretending everything is fine, you might find a weird joy here.

Do not watch this if you need high stakes, fast cuts, or anything resembling a modern heartbeat. It’s slow. It’s proper. It’s almost aggressively polite.

Notes from the couch

The whole thing kicks off with a car accident, which is the most exciting thing that happens for a long, long time. After the crash, the movie decides it would rather be a stage play than a film. Most of the runtime is just people talking in rooms. Sometimes they stand by the door. Sometimes they sit. It’s all very static.

Sunday Wilshin does her best to anchor the mess, but the script by E.C. Pollard feels like it’s glued to the floor. It’s not necessarily bad, just... very dusty. You can practically hear the velvet curtains collecting lint in every shot. 🏚️

• The way they handle the car crash aftermath is so very British. Everyone is more worried about being seen as improper than actually being injured.
• There is a moment near the middle where a character enters a room and I swear they stood there for six seconds before saying a single word. It felt like an eternity.
• The lighting is very flat, like they were afraid of shadows.

It reminds me a bit of the stuffy, overly-earnest tone you find in Sins of the Parents, though at least that one had a bit more fire in its belly. Here, everyone is just so reserved. It’s hard to care about the stakes when the characters seem to be suppressing their own pulses.

I found myself staring at the wallpaper in the background more than the actual dialogue. The patterns are wild. Did they really use that many flowers in the 30s? Maybe it was just the lighting playing tricks on me.

There is a scene toward the end where someone tries to confess something important. The camera just stays put. It’s a bold choice, but it made me want to get up and make a sandwich. It’s not that it’s poorly made, it’s just that it’s missing that spark—that thing that makes you lean into the screen instead of leaning back in your chair.

If you're looking for a double feature, don't pair this with The Gold Rush unless you want to experience the most jarring tonal shift of your life. You’d go from Chaplin’s kinetic genius to a movie that treats a fender bender like a major geopolitical crisis. It’s funny in a way I don't think they intended.

It is what it is. A relic. 🎞️