Limbo, written and directed by intriguing auteur Ben Sharrock tackles the refugee crisis through the filter of comedy and contemplation. It’s slow languid pacing, sparse and stylised cinematography and oddball characters, invariably calls to mind the work of  Wes Anderson. Yet Sharrock’s exploration of the singular refugee experience is a unique and insightful perspective, which enlightens and implores empathy from its audience. With its quirky cast and deadly serious subject matter, Limbo strikes a warm balance between heartfelt and tragic, whilst skewering expectations with deadpan comic flourishes.

 Set on a remote Scottish island, Limbo follows the journey of young Omar (Amir El Masry) a Syrian refugee who has fled the conflict in his country to find a better life. His only companion is his grandfather’s Oude, a traditional Syrian instrument he is particularly efficient on. Omar’s initial experiences are tainted by racist and ignorant locals, strange quirky encounters with tone-deaf social workers, and an environment as lonely and desolate as he feels himself. He soon becomes friendly with Farhad (Vikash Bhai), his Freddie Mercury obsessed roommate who aspires for fame and success and casually instigates himself as Omar’s manager. They are joined by two Nigerian refugees, who obsess over Friends and bicker like siblings. It’s a diverse mix, and the dynamic between the asylum-hopefuls evoke moments of joy, sadness, tragedy and humour.

 Omar is burdened by a mysterious hand injury that prevents him from playing his beloved instrument. In his home country, he was renowned for his skills and developed quite a reputation, hence his roommate Farhad’s eagerness to manage and, most likely, exploit him. Yet Omar can’t bring himself to play the instrument even when his hand finally heals. It’s a remnant of his past life, a past that hangs over him like a perpetual cloud, as he spends his nights watching home movies on his iphone reminiscing and pining for the days when he felt accepted. In a way, Omar’s story is very much a coming-of-age tale, as his discomfort is slowly replaced with confidence and acceptance and reflects an attitude of optimism towards the resilience found in the benefits of blending cultures and values.

 Limbo certainly wears its influences on its sleeves. It is undoubtedly indebted to the overtly stylized work of Wes Anderson, and particularly calls to mind Napoleon Dynamite in its tone and pacing. This is not to say that its derivative qualities draw attention away from the charm of the story and characters. On the contrary, the quirkiness and dry dialogue often serve to capture the estrangement and desolation felt on the island. Omar and Farhad, out of place, and out of time, who feel don’t belong anywhere, live in a world of ambivalence, their stunted and awkward interactions emphasise their inability to emote or feel connection and their aspirations are pipe dreams with obstacles too numerous to count. These interactions are underscored by wide-angle shots taking in the enormous desolation of the nameless Scottish island they are marooned on. The sadness is palpable, but is given levity by Sharrock’s witty dialogue and unique take on asylum-seekers desperately trying to find their place in a strange world

 Limbo is a powerful and funny exploration of the refugee-crisis. It finds humour in the disconnect that occurs between strangers bound together by misfortune, and finds heart in the overcoming of this disconnect. Though it wears its influences on its sleeve, a quality that would often suggest unoriginality, it never detracts from the core of the message it is trying to present. Ultimately Limbo manages to weave an interesting and unique tale of acceptance and renewal, that might bring hope to those searching for a place in their own world.

 3.5 stars