Mint Review: Loyle Carner Stars in Lyrical Glasgow Romeo and Juliet Retelling
Between the violence and brooding machismo, there is unmitigated joy in Charlotte Regan's beguiling, Glasgow-set tale of star-crossed lovers. This eight-part BBC series, titled Mint, offers a gorgeous and lyrical modern transplant of Shakespeare's classic tragedy, announced as a standout in British television.
A Beguiling Oddity in British Television
It's in fair Glasgow that Mint lays its scene, with a grudge between rival clans and the spilling of civil blood. As a brew of crime, romance, and family saga, it's a beguiling oddity in the hands of director Charlotte Regan, who establishes herself here as one of the most distinctive voices in the industry. Regan, a filmmaker with 15 years of music video experience before her 2023 debut feature Scrapper won the Grand Jury prize at Sundance, brings a uniquely lyrical style to the screen.
Star-Crossed Lovers in a Charged World
The star-crossed lovers are Shannon, played by Emma Laird, and Arran, portrayed by Benjamin Coyle-Larner, better known as rapper Loyle Carner. They lock eyes across a train station, and their world reorganises itself with an undeniable frisson. This is forbidden love, set against escalating tensions between their families. Shannon's father Dylan, a pensive Sam Riley, causes shockwaves by announcing out of the blue that he's stepping down as head of a crime syndicate.
Unlike many Romeo and Juliet retellings that get tangled in tragedy, Regan lingers on the heady, helpless feeling of romantic intoxication. She uses the frame in an almost sculptural way, with elliptical, impressionistic vignettes such as grainy Super 8 fragments and dream montages. These immerse viewers in a charged, rain-soaked world of longing and menace, making it gorgeous to look at.
Lyrical Style and Performances
Reflecting Shannon's romantic fervour, Regan's camera floods the screen with fantasy. Sparks literally fly between the young lovers, with the pair soaring off the ground, capturing that sensation of falling for the wrong person even though it feels so right. The symbolism is laid on thick, with the crackle of electricity audible at times, and it heaves with portent, especially when Moses Sumney's celestial song "Doomed" drifts in over flashbacks. Patrick Jonsson's score consistently enhances the atmosphere.
The performances are vital to the series' success. Emma Laird, who appeared in last year's Oscar winner The Brutalist, is exceptional here, with her face presented in sustained close-ups that feel like reading rather than watching. Opposite her, Coyle-Larner, who studied at Drama Centre before becoming a musician, operates mainly in silence, conveying almost everything with his eyes. Supporting roles by Laura Fraser and Lindsay Duncan as Shannon's mother Cat and grandmother Ollie add depth, betraying fearful chinks in their armour as they sense Shannon might repeat past mistakes.
Not for Everyone, But Full of Joy
This won't be for everyone. Depending on your threshold for surrealism, Mint may occasionally feel like it's floating pretentiously above its own plot. In a recent interview, Regan said, "Growing up, all I saw was films where everyone working class was depressed and I wanted to make something with them happy." Even in a story that primes us for tragedy, that instinct pulses through every scene. Between the violence and brooding machismo, there is unmitigated joy. Mint is how you make something ancient feel alive, blending classic themes with modern sensibilities in a visually stunning package.
