Swimming with Men (2018)
Ah the hum drum. The grind of daily life. This is what British film does beautifully. Where Swimming With Men excels though is mixing those elements of life we relate to, with touchingly funny humour. Rob Brydon is gold. I mean serious worth whatever he weighs in the stuff. Even when depicting Eric Scott, a middle aged accountant losing his perspective on the world, he’s endearing. The unlikely hero, born again in the most unlikely of scenarios... a mens synchronised swimming team. Not a good one, but that’s not the point. Camaraderie, companionship, a safe space. Much in the same way the lads in The Full Monty bond together, so do they here. What happens at swim club, stays at swim club. It’s utterly funny, delightful, and absolutely wonderful. I mean laugh out loud, tweaking the heart strings, fucking fantastic. Yes it’s a little generic here and there, the group is perfectly diverse, we get the kooky montage, the interactive 2 weeks to go composite graphics, the slow motion team walking through an airport in sharp suits, but it’s fun! The entire cast are lovable. We want them to succeed in their goal. There’s always a goal isn’t there and here it’s to take part in an international competition. It doesn’t take itself too seriously and it gets a little bit silly in places, especially in the final scene which is questionable and probably should’ve been cut, but if you don’t laugh and find this superbly charming you want drowning.