Jane Gull brings a bitter contemporary fairy tale to the screen in her second film about two lonely hearts, loving each other and chasing dreams: Paul wants to become a musician, Sophie a photographer. But the reality is tough when money is not filling the artists’ pockets. Despite his beautiful voice Paul struggles to get paid for his gigs. They become homeless, or as Sophie says, "love without walls,” sleeping at a friend’s family home, in a car, under bridges, in an abandoned theatre. From London, they move to Brighton. With a glimpse of the sea, they get stuck in the same corner between a car park, a coffee shop, and a church. The world suddenly seems to close in.

Gull builds a claustrophobic atmosphere around the two, like two mice in a trap, with no way out. How quickly a whimsical adventure can turn into a terrifying nightmare, which for the viewer becomes uncomfortable, real, like bumping into homeless people in the street, and you don’t know what to do, give them cash? Or just ignore them? Paul and Sophie’s story darkens, they become smelly, unattractive, unhappy. The tone of the film gets murkier, the subject matter requires it. The happy romantic comedy and musicality of the opening sequences are stripped away.

Love Without Walls loudly and clearly resonates with society. It shows the uncomfortable truth of a country that doesn’t want to be acknowledge that 70,000 households have been homeless since the pandemic. They are ghosts to our blind government. This movie is a sharp reminder, featuring great acting, cinematography, and a lucid director style. It is, without question, one of the most piercing, intelligent movies in town just now.