Jasper Rees

The Trump doctrine

In the real world Gordo could have spilled everything to a shrink. But the incremental babysteps of therapy aren’t very box-office

Were you ever not very nice at school? A bit of a tosspot to others, perhaps. Ever so slightly a jerk now and then and here and there? Were you inclined to take advantage of the weak, the vulnerable, the defenceless and lonely, to tease and wound and give not a single thought to the profound and lasting consequences that may come back to bite you in the posterior decades later? No, neither was I. At least I don’t think I was. Still, The Gift is enough to give you pause. If you are affected by any of the issues in this film, best log on to Friends Reunited, locate anyone to whom you may once have said even the teensiest mean thing. Just in case. And grovel, abase yourself, say you’re really really sorry and mean it. Because you just never know.

The Gift is a psychological thriller about a bully, his victim and a chicken coming home to roost 20 or so years later. Meet Simon, cocksure and stubblesome and just back home on the west coast to take up a super-duper new high-rise job in internet security. He and his thoroughbred trophy bride Robyn have moved into a spiffing hillside rental, one of those houses mainly consisting of glass that should only ever be occupied by people with nothing to hide. By the second scene, Simon and Robyn are out shopping for furnishings when a blurred figure at the edge of the screen refuses to duck out of shot. There he is again at the till.

Introducing Gordo, who wears naff threads and a stupid goatee and remembers Simon from school way back. Simon doesn’t seem to recall. No matter. Gordo, who somehow finds their new address, is soon dropping off quite random gifts — wine, fish for the pond, window cleaner — plus coming round, fixing the TV and dropping hintlets about the past and letting bygones be bygones.

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