Boxcutter is a modest look at the modest life of a not-so-modest wannabe Toronto rapper.
In this well-worn “local kid makes good/artist pursues dream” subgenre, clichés abound like land mines in an overgrown field. Sure, it’s still technically possible to craft something fresh there, but it’s gonna take a sharp, observant mind; one that adores the subgenre enough to recognize its faults and either steer clear of them, or use them to achieve some kind of rewarding subversion.
Thankfully, radio host-turned-director Reza Dahya is that mind. Dahya is that fan, too. It is not so hard to imagine Shad or Raz Fresco just outside of frame.
When we meet him, Rome (Ashton James) lives with his roommate, Sid (Viphusan Vani). They have the kind of rapport you’d expect: two parts Seth and Evan from Superbad, one part Vince and E from Entourage. That is to say, it veers between constructive and obstructive for their growth as people. The pair live in an old, uninspired condo, ruled by a sleazy landlord. Turns out, the condo is also prone to theft.
After making a potentially important connection with a music producer, Rome heads home to grab his laptop and music and get everything prepped. Instead of finding Sid, he catches two thieves red-handed, and they’ve got his gear. Operating on instinct, Rome grapples with one, only to be knocked out by the other. When Rome comes to, he sets off on a mission to get back his music and force a positive outcome. All these setbacks just make the prospect of success that much sweeter.
First stop is the family home of his friend and collaborator Everton. There, Jenaya (Zoe Lewis), Everton’s sister, hears Rome’s plea and sympathizes, because she is an artist of a different sort, a muralist. She agrees to accompany him across the city on his quest.
Ashton James and Zoe Lewis are stars in the making here. Their chemistry is one of a few elements that prevent Boxcutter from wearing out its welcome—a common issue for this kind of Odyssey-meets-Before Sunrise narrative structure.
Another element is Toronto. Not only does the city play itself (this is nice, but should now be considered the bare minimum rather than something to celebrate), but Boxcutter imbues our town with a depth rarely seen. We’ve become used to filmmakers either turning the West End into some sort of twee nostalgia trip rooted in the 2000’s indie boom, or the buildings around Bay into a grey, dystopian future-capital. There is seemingly no in between. But here, Toronto emanates an underrated gritty warmth that feels hugely refreshing.
Dahya, together with cinematographer James Klopko, screenwriter Chris Cromie, and a cast populated with real Toronto rappers, carves out what is the first true (in the poetic sense) depiction of a section of the underground music community in decades. It seems Scott Pilgrim finally has a sibling.
Overall, Boxcutter is an engrossing metaphorical, and sometimes literal, look at city development, the merits of certain artistic pursuits, reconciling art and commerce, and how to stay afloat in a major city.
