Rachel Walshe takes the mic for her review of California Schemin’.
If Jay and Silent Bob had a baby with Kneecap, and that baby was Scottish, and had a friend who had a 'chin strap' beard, then we have the bones of California Schemin’. A stranger-than-fiction comedy with guts, this film marks James McAvoy’s directorial debut.
When an open audition leads to MCs Billy Boyd (Simon Bottomley) and Gavin Bain (Séamus McLean Ross) being labelled “the rapping Proclaimers”, they come up with a plan to expose the music industry. The pair swap their Dundee accents for a laid-back California drawl. Adapted from Gavin Bain’s memoir of the same name, the film’s premise hinges on a central question posed by one music exec (James Corden): “What does my truth sound like?”
There’s a fun visual motif used of Ewan McGregor’s infamous speech from Trainspotting, “It’s shite being Scottish”. Being Scottish in California Schemin’ means overlooked, undervalued. Regional. And to be “American”? Aspirational. Cool. Defiant. Single-minded in your goals. That was how we saw America in 2003. That alone makes this film nostalgic to the extreme.
Hollywood has had a long history of shaving the edges off talented people to make them more consumable. In the original A Star Is Born, young Esther Victoria Blodgett is transformed into Vicki Lester, a name tested out by execs over and over to make sure it sounded right. And sounding right is at the heart of California Schemin’. How accurate a Californian accent Billy and Gavin actually manage is not the point. Rather, it’s how their flattened American patter - teamed with the bleach blonde hair that screamed ‘00s - was enough to open so many doors.
This is an era where the political backdrop is interesting. March of 2003 was the beginning of the Iraq War, a now well-documented moment of American-led deceit that played such a huge part in the global zeitgeist. The film doesn’t cover this, but rather adjacent themes of truth and authenticity are integrated through the plot. In the world of California Schemin’, 2003 is presented as a simpler time, one when phones were attached to walls, people still listened to tapes, and hair twists and puffer jackets were considered a cohesive cultural experience, even across national borders.
While this is a project that is well made and well executed, there’s a Bechdel-adjacent issue with the writing. Mary (Lucy Halliday) plays the loving girlfriend, who is admittedly very able to slag our lead duo something rotten. Her role is to present the voice of reason, holding Gavin and Billy accountable to their bullshit. She even acts as a sort of secretary at times, running messages from her landline. This doesn’t allow for much interior life outside of her relationship as it’s shown on screen. Halliday is incredibly charming, bringing a weight that isn’t quite present in the text alone.
That’s not to say the film doesn’t have heart, or isn’t aware of the themes and tropes it’s playing with. Tessa, the duo’s manager, is played by Rebekah Murrell, who does an all-round wonderful job. She lays bare a much-needed dose of reality; that this genre of music is a black art form, but one that has been co-opted by white and mostly middle-class music executives. It’s then repackaged with white performers and sold back to white audiences. This has been common throughout the history of the music industry.
James Rhodes’ camerawork evokes the heady rush of the pair’s initial success, and is tender in darker, more emotive moments. However, overall, the film doesn’t push many boundaries visually. James McAvoy is not gunning for Wes Anderson’s gig, it seems. However, his directorial skills shine in the crafting of the performances, as well as bringing to life this adapted screenplay by Elaine Gracie and Archie Thompson.
As a period piece, its elements combine into something genuinely immersive. The score by Raffertie is subtle but highly effective. Andy Drummond’s production design, teamed with Carole Millar’s distinctive costumes and Claire Harris’ hair and make-up, does such a fantastic job of capturing the unsubtle essence of the early 2000s.
McLean Ross’s performance as Gavin/Brains is heartfelt and committed, ranging from shy and soft-spoken to tinged with hints of mania. Bottomley as Billy/Silibil is at all times likeable, with comedic turns and pathos in equal measure. Amber Anderson and Simon Poon Tip are enjoyably hateable as music execs deaf to their own privilege, which was not as much a conversation in the ‘00s. They assure each other that they do not sound posh, with effects not out of place from the cast of Downton Abbey. And of course, James McAvoy confidently walks around as the music industry’s own version of foul-mouthed enforcer/spin doctor Malcolm Tucker.
Ultimately, California Schemin’ is fun. The jokes are great, and the narrative tightly constructed. It would be a joyous and successful debut, even if James McAvoy hadn’t been James McAvoy. After this, it will be interesting to see what he puts his name to next.
If nothing else, California Schemin’ shows that, as long as you don’t sell your integrity, it’s probably a good thing for young creatives to overcome imposter syndrome. Or, if they’re ballsy enough, drop the ‘syndrome’ altogether and embrace the imposter. Who knows, you might even get a record deal out of it.
California Schemin’ is in cinemas 10th April 2026.