Submarine

I distinctly remember the first time I watched Submarine. I was sitting in a dorm room that smelled faintly of damp laundry and cheap incense, eating a bowl of cereal at 2:00 AM because the milk was about to expire. My neighbor was apparently trying to assemble IKEA furniture through the wall, creating a rhythmic thudding that strangely synced up with the drum beats of the soundtrack. It was the perfect, slightly pathetic atmosphere for a movie that treats teenage awkwardness like a high-stakes Shakespearean tragedy.

Released in 2011, Submarine arrived at the tail end of the "indie-quirk" boom. By then, we’d all seen enough movies about eccentric outsiders to last a lifetime, but Richard Ayoade—the man most of us knew as the socially paralyzed Moss from The IT Crowd—brought something different to his directorial debut. He didn’t just make a movie about a weird kid; he made a movie that looks and feels exactly like that weird kid’s internal monologue.

The Art of the Over-Thinker

Our protagonist is Oliver Tate, played with a magnificent, deadpan intensity by Craig Roberts. Oliver is fifteen, Welsh, and utterly convinced that his life is a masterpiece in waiting. He monitors his parents’ intimacy levels by tracking the dimmer switch in their bedroom and spends his free time dictionary-hunting for words that make him sound like a tortured intellectual. He’s the kind of kid who thinks "wearing a duffle coat in the rain makes you look like a French New Wave protagonist rather than just a wet teenager."

The plot is split between two front lines: Oliver’s mission to lose his virginity to the pyromaniacal, red-coat-wearing Jordana Bevan (Yasmin Paige) and his desperate attempts to save his parents' marriage from a New Age life coach with a spectacular mullet.

Craig Roberts is a revelation here. He manages to be pretentious and vulnerable in the same breath, capturing that specific age where you’re constantly performing for an imaginary camera. Opposite him, Yasmin Paige is the perfect foil. Jordana isn’t a "Manic Pixie Dream Girl"; she’s a girl who likes setting things on fire and hates anything sentimental. Their chemistry is built on a foundation of mutual weirdness and a shared disdain for their classmates, making it one of the most honest depictions of teen romance I’ve seen from that era.

A Masterclass in Stylistic Thievery

Looking back from the 2020s, Submarine feels like a bridge between the analog and digital worlds. While shot on 35mm, it has an aesthetic that basically birthed the "Tumblr-core" look of the early 2010s—saturated blues, grainy Super 8 home movie inserts, and bold title cards. Richard Ayoade wears his influences on his sleeve, nodding heavily to Wes Anderson’s symmetry and Jean-Luc Godard’s playful editing.

But where Anderson can sometimes feel too precious, Ayoade keeps things grounded in the grey, drizzly reality of Swansea. The cinematography by Erik Wilson captures the industrial beauty of the Welsh coast, turning a mundane high school hallway into something cinematic.

Then there’s the music. If you were an indie kid in 2011, the Alex Turner (of Arctic Monkeys fame) soundtrack was your entire personality for at least six months. The acoustic, melancholic tracks like "Stuck on the Puzzle" provide the emotional heavy lifting that Oliver is too stunted to express himself. It’s a rare case where a soundtrack doesn't just support the film; it feels like the character’s actual heartbeat.

The Adult Intervention

While the kids are great, the adults provide the film’s darkest comedy. Noah Taylor as Oliver’s father, Lloyd, is a portrait of quiet, oceanic depression. He’s a marine biologist who seems to be slowly dissolving into his own saltwater tanks. On the other end of the spectrum is Paddy Considine as Graham Purvis, the neighbor who claims to be a "psychic medium" but looks more like a low-budget villain from a 1980s synth-pop video. Considine is clearly having the time of his life, delivering lines about "brain waves" and "inner light" with a sincerity that makes him utterly terrifying.

Sally Hawkins rounds out the cast as Oliver’s mother, Jill. She brings a grounded, nervous energy to a household that is floating away from reality. The scenes where Oliver tries to "fix" her marriage by writing forged love letters are both hilarious and deeply cringey—a reminder that "teenagers are essentially well-meaning sociopaths when it comes to their parents' emotional lives."

Why It Still Matters

Submarine didn't set the box office on fire, but it has aged surprisingly well. In a world of polished, high-definition streaming content, its grainy textures and tactile production design feel more intentional than ever. It captures the pre-smartphone era of 2011—a time when you had to write notes, buy physical records, and actually show up at someone’s house to be annoying.

The film understands that being fifteen is a process of navigating "the deep." You’re underwater, everything is muffled, and you’re just trying to figure out which way is up. It’s a drama that respects the gravity of teenage problems without forgetting how absurd they look from the outside.

Ultimately, Submarine is a film about the stories we tell ourselves to survive the mundanity of growing up. It’s funny, it’s stylish, and it features enough knitwear to keep a small nation warm. Whether you were the weird kid in the duffle coat or the one setting matches in the back of the bus, there is a piece of your history buried somewhere in these 97 minutes. It’s a small film with a massive heart, and it deserves to be pulled up from the depths of your "to-watch" list.