Benjamin (2019)

Benjamin is special because it’s a romantic comedy-drama that actually understands how messy creativity and intimacy can be, and it turns that mess into something funny, tender, and quietly bracing. Simon Amstell writes with a self-aware wit that cuts close to the bone without turning cruel, letting Colin Morgan play insecurity not as a quirk but as a lived-in ache you recognize in yourself. The London arts scene vibe is all late-night chatter, hangover honesty, and sudden flashes of beauty, with Phénix Brossard bringing a magnetic calm that makes the romance feel like a genuine chance at relief rather than a plot requirement. It’s not for viewers who want a neat, swoony love story or a crowd-pleasing arc, but if you’re up for something bittersweet, perceptive, and warmly human, it’s a small film that lingers.

Benjamin is clearly trying to be a wry, tender snapshot of creative insecurity and modern romance in a very London, very artsy bubble, and it does have moments of sharp observation and awkward charm. The problem is it can feel slight: the emotional beats drift in and out, and the tonal mix (deadpan comedy, angst, and self-serious navel-gazing about art) won’t land if you’re not already tuned to that milieu. If you want a big, satisfying romantic arc or a comedy with real bite, this may leave you feeling like you watched a pleasant sketch rather than a full meal. Still, Colin Morgan sells the vulnerability, and if you enjoy low-key, industry-adjacent character pieces with a bit of melancholy, it’s an easy, modest watch.