Words by Taha Khambaty
Sumotherhood somehow manages to wrangle itself a bizarre Ed Sheeran cameo, but struggles to find all the other things a movie needs: a good script, good performances, and a good story.
Sumotherhood is Andy Deacon’s self-insert fanfiction, and a cinematic experience so woefully executed that it makes the writing of a 14-year-old Wattpad enthusiast read like Aaron Sorkin in comparison. Co-written, directed, produced, and starring Adam Deacon – think Tommy Wiseau more than Woody Allen – the film centres on two friends, Riko and Kane, portrayed by Deacon and Jazzie Zonzolo respectively. They aspire to gain recognition as ‘proper roadmen’ amongst London’s gangs.
These characters, however, are utterly inept and incapable, and through a series of hijinks, they find themselves inadvertently part of a major gang all whilst being relentlessly pursued by another. On paper, this premise seems promising, ripe with opportunities for great comedic moments and, to the film’s credit, it does manage to elicit a few genuine laughs. Yet, far too often, it falls flat, leaving you with a sense of exasperation.
One of the film’s most glaring flaws is its penchant for setting up a joke, delivering a decent punchline, and then mercilessly overstaying its welcome, leaving the audience yearning for both the scene and the movie itself to conclude. The script often feels underwritten, with major plot developments occurring randomly and with little to no explanation. For instance, their car inexplicably explodes thanks to a stray cigarette that no one in the scene is even seen smoking. Conversely, at other times, scenes are overwritten, meandering without advancing the plot, and leaving you confused as to why they were even included.
Sumotherhood’s erratic direction compounds its issues, with abrupt shifts in tone that leave you baffled. It careens from grounded comedy to over-the-top parody, to a serious crime thriller, often within the same scene. This jarring direction negatively impacts the film’s overall coherence.
Acting performances are equally uneven. Whilst Deacon and Zonzolo hold their own, most of the supporting cast, particularly Richie Campbell, Vas Blackwood, and Asheq Akhtar, veer into excessively exaggerated territory. The exaggerated performances render the characters unauthentic, leading to a lack of seriousness in their actions; it’s as if they were handed no script, just instructed to improvise profanity-laden rants that become more grating than nails on a chalkboard.
The sole glimmer of talent amidst this cinematic muddle is Kobna Holdbrook-Smith’s portrayal as one of the gang leaders. He injects the character with genuine menace and gravitas, making him the most magnetic presence on screen.
Yet, the film never conveys any semblance of prior film experience. It feels more like the product of an edgy 14-year-old’s imagination, envisioning Ed Sheeran as a homeless crack addict and thinking that is the funniest thing ever devised. Beyond the film’s cameo crimes, it falls short in building on any central theme, consistently favouring Riko’s character development over the duo’s dynamic. This is where the film veers into the realm of ‘self-insert fanfic,’ where Riko, despite being a hopelessly inept criminal, inexplicably excels at parkour and hand-to-hand combat because he’s bipolar? This raises legitimate questions about Andy Deacon’s ability to authentically depict this condition on screen, despite himself being diagnosed with it.
In the end, it is Riko who emerges as the central character, stealing the spotlight and relegating Kane to a mere side player. Sumotherhood ultimately elicits an occasional chuckle but is more likely to induce groans and prompt viewers to abandon their seats in search of a more satisfying cinematic escape. It’s a turbulent ride, but not the kind that leaves you wanting more.
Bring Back Black Sitcoms