Naked 1993

Johnny, David Thewlis,finds himself bleeding from embarrassment and anger as a tense moment in a Manchester alley ends with a woman initially inviting him closer but then protesting that he is hurting her. She pushes him away, bolts, and vows that “her Bernard” will get vengeance on him for this. The encounter sets a grim tone for what follows as he packs his things, seizes a car, and escapes to Dalston, a lean, unpretentious corner of east London that feels like a different country compared to his hometown.

At the door of Louise, Lesley Sharp, a former Manchester girlfriend, Johnny seeks shelter, only to meet a chilly reception. Louise works as a file clerk and shares a house with two flatmates: Sophie, whom Louise calls her “hippy-dippy friend,” and Sandra, the primary tenant who works as a nurse and is away in Zimbabwe. The household atmosphere is practical but brittle, and Johnny’s arrival unsettles an already tense balance.

Despite a frosty start, Johnny slips into the household life, using his charm to seduce Sophie while he treats Louise with cold detachment. Yet his attention soon wanders, and he leaves the house to roam the center of London, where he fills the air with long, relentless monologues about his own philosophy and worldview. He is drawn to strangers not for their companionship but for an audience, pouring out his convinced cynicism to anyone who will listen.

As he drifts through the city, he crosses paths with a series of strangers who become brief anchors in his wandering mind. Archie, a young Scottish man, is desperately searching Brewer Street for his girlfriend Maggie, while Brian, a security guard who tends a quiet, empty office building at night, becomes a minor mirror to Johnny’s own sense of aimlessness. Johnny calls that night’s job “the most tedious job in England,” and it foreshadows a future he imagines—one where he might retreat to a seaside cottage and leave his troubles behind.

A sequence of near-misses and misreads follows. He pursues a drunken woman, discards her once a skull and crossbones tattoo on her shoulder comes into view, and then follows a young cafe worker back to her home only to be unmoored when she becomes upset and throws him out. He hitches a ride with a poster-paster but is knocked off balance by the man’s irritation at Johnny’s unrelenting grip on conversation. The encounter ends with the man stomping Johnny to the ground, taking his duffel bag, and driving off, leaving him to stagger away with little more than the clothes on his back.

The streets prove merciless. Johnny is battered by a roaming gang of thugs, their violence punctuating the fragility of his improvised survival. Back at Louise’s residence, the tension escalates in another dire turn. Jeremy, the landlord (also known as Sebastian), a psychopathic and amoral yuppie, forces his own violence into the narrative: he invades the home, rapes Sophie, and throws a few hundred pounds at her as if that could compensate for what has happened. Louise returns to a scene of trauma: Sophie is visibly shaken, and the group tries, in vain, to disentangle Jeremy from the living space.

Johnny, now in ruinous shape after his ordeals, arrives at the doorstep again. The two women rally to keep him quiet and safe, even as he slips in and out of consciousness. A fit wakes the sleeping Jeremy, and the fragile quiet is shattered once more. Sandra soon returns from her trip, appalled by the state of the apartment yet still capable of tenderness, tending to Johnny’s injuries with a practical care that belies the ugliness that has unfolded around him. Jeremy departs, leaving behind a charged, nearly unbearable atmosphere.

In the aftermath, Johnny shuns Sophie, who is left desolate and with almost nothing, and Louise and Johnny appear to reconcile, hinting at a possibility of returning to Manchester together. But the return never fully materializes. When Louise leaves for work, Johnny seizes the money Jeremy tossed at Sophie and sets off again into the city’s labyrinth, limping forward while the echoes of the night’s violence press in from every side.

“her Bernard” will get vengeance on him for this.

In these intertwined moments, the film threads a portrait of fragile human connection tested by harsh surroundings. The alleyway incident, the liminal space of Dalston, the quiet horror of the landlord’s abuse, and the uneasy sympathy of Louise and Sandra all contribute to a portrait that is at once intimate and exhausting. The story unfolds not through grand gestures but through the slow accumulation of small, painful truths: the ways in which desire and power bend under pressure, how trust frays in crowded rooms, and how a wandering, bright philosophy can crumble when faced with real consequences. This is a film that refuses to offer easy answers, instead presenting a raw, unflinching look at a man who moves through a city with certainty about nothing, haunted by moments that refuse to disappear. The atmosphere remains tense, the characters vivid, and the moral ambiguities are left to linger long after the final image fades.