Happy-Go-Lucky
30-year-old Poppy is a London schoolteacher who's more upbeat than anyone I've ever met in real life: She dresses in colourful retro-hippie clothing, smiles and waves at strangers on the street, and l…
Happy-Go-Lucky
30-year-old Poppy is a London schoolteacher who's more upbeat than anyone I've ever met in real life: She dresses in colourful retro-hippie clothing, smiles and waves at strangers on the street, and laughs incessantly. When she goes out clubbing, she stuffs her bra because she likes the way it feels. Poppy can't stand to see anyone unhappy -- or even neutral. She's undeterred by a taciturn bookstore clerk who responds to her many friendly overtures with grunts and glares. It's unclear whether she's actually concerned about his well-being -- her banter is clearly not cheering him up -- or if after a while she's just sort of mocking him. Poppy has a ton of friends, one of whom is her roommate; a couple of sisters, and a very full life that includes bouncing on a trampoline and taking flamenco lessons. She keeps insisting that she's perfectly happy despite the fact that she's single and doesn't have kids or a mortgage, even though she's already reached the ripe old age of 30. In addition to being preternaturally carefree, Poppy is also a bit of a flake. When her bike is stolen early on in the film, she gets over it in a matter of seconds. Her only regret, she laments aloud, is that she never even had a chance to say goodbye. Since she can't bring herself to replace her trusty steed, she decides that -- global warming be damned -- it's time to take driving lessons. Poppy's driving instructor is an angry, humorless racist with bad teeth named Scott who's in no mood for any of Poppy's frivolity; to him, driving is serious business and if you fool around you will crash and you will die! Whoa. The core of Scott's driving philosophy is that one must pay constant attention to the golden triangle of mirrors: the one on the right, the one on the left, and most importantly, the rear-view mirror, which he equates to the all-seeing eye on top of a pyramid, and which he calls Enraha (a malapropism for Eye of Ra, perhaps?). Every Saturday, Poppy and Scott go out for a driving lesson. Poppy keeps goofing around and trying to make small talk, but Scott's hostile demeanor remains impenetrable. Enraha! he screams every time she takes the wheel. Enraha! Enraha! Enraha! Yikes. On the one hand, Scott is clearly a nutjob, but on the other, why does Poppy have to keep torturing him with her antics? Why can't she just shut up and concentrate on driving? I don't think I'd last five minutes with her, but Scott keeps coming back week after week because he prides himself on never having lost a student. And Poppy keeps coming back too, I suppose because she sees Scott as a challenge. Though she refuses to play it straight during her lessons, Poppy clearly has it in her, as is demonstrated by her attempts to help a troubled pupil. Despite this being one of the few serious parts of the movie, it was also probably my favorite, in part because it seemed so real.
Happy-Go-Lucky
Comedy,Drama,Romance
Film Details
30-year-old Poppy is a London schoolteacher who's more upbeat than anyone I've ever met in real life: She dresses in colourful retro-hippie clothing, smiles and waves at strangers on the street, and laughs incessantly. When she goes out clubbing, she stuffs her bra because she likes the way it feels. Poppy can't stand to see anyone unhappy -- or even neutral.
She's undeterred by a taciturn bookstore clerk who responds to her many friendly overtures with grunts and glares. It's unclear whether she's actually concerned about his well-being -- her banter is clearly not cheering him up -- or if after a while she's just sort of mocking him. Poppy has a ton of friends, one of whom is her roommate; a couple of sisters, and a very full life that includes bouncing on a trampoline and taking flamenco lessons.
She keeps insisting that she's perfectly happy despite the fact that she's single and doesn't have kids or a mortgage, even though she's already reached the ripe old age of 30. In addition to being preternaturally carefree, Poppy is also a bit of a flake. When her bike is stolen early on in the film, she gets over it in a matter of seconds.
Her only regret, she laments aloud, is that she never even had a chance to say goodbye. Since she can't bring herself to replace her trusty steed, she decides that -- global warming be damned -- it's time to take driving lessons. Poppy's driving instructor is an angry, humorless racist with bad teeth named Scott who's in no mood for any of Poppy's frivolity; to him, driving is serious business and if you fool around you will crash and you will die! Whoa.
The core of Scott's driving philosophy is that one must pay constant attention to the golden triangle of mirrors: the one on the right, the one on the left, and most importantly, the rear-view mirror, which he equates to the all-seeing eye on top of a pyramid, and which he calls Enraha (a malapropism for Eye of Ra, perhaps?). Every Saturday, Poppy and Scott go out for a driving lesson. Poppy keeps goofing around and trying to make small talk, but Scott's hostile demeanor remains impenetrable.
Enraha! he screams every time she takes the wheel. Enraha! Enraha! Enraha! Yikes. On the one hand, Scott is clearly a nutjob, but on the other, why does Poppy have to keep torturing him with her antics? Why can't she just shut up and concentrate on driving? I don't think I'd last five minutes with her, but Scott keeps coming back week after week because he prides himself on never having lost a student.
And Poppy keeps coming back too, I suppose because she sees Scott as a challenge. Though she refuses to play it straight during her lessons, Poppy clearly has it in her, as is demonstrated by her attempts to help a troubled pupil. Despite this being one of the few serious parts of the movie, it was also probably my favorite, in part because it seemed so real..