Back in 2010, Richard Ayoade, still “Moss” to most viewers from The IT Crowd, did something unexpected — he directed a film. It wasn’t just any debut, it refused the usual route of superheroes and all that CGI spectacle. He gave viewers Submarine, a small coming-of-age story set in Swansea about Oliver Tate (Craig Roberts), a precocious fifteen-year-old determined to save his parents’ crumbling marriage while also pursuing his sharp-tongued classmate Jordana Bevan (Yasmin Paige).
It’s not mushy or romantic, it shows teenage life the way it often feels: clumsy, sometimes mean, and occasionally tender despite itself. Ayoade shot this through the lens of a kind of sincerity that is not seen often, it drifted in quietly but stuck. Years later, Submarine hasn’t dulled, in fact, it’s funny, but just as quickly it turns cringey.
‘Submarine’s Oliver Tate is Revoltingly Familiar
Like most fifteen-year-olds, Oliver Tate is certain he’s special. Craig Roberts plays him with a mix of bravado and brittleness that feels too familiar. He isn’t the neat, harmless nerd other teen movies lean on, instead, he’s selfish and sometimes cruel. Early on in the film, desperate to win Jordana’s attention, he joins in mocking Zoe Preece (Lily McCan), an awkward classmate, and in the scuffle accidentally knocks her into a pond. It’s a nasty move; the kind that draws uncomfortable laughter because it’s recognizable. The film doesn’t brush past this casually; shortly after, when Zoe transfers schools, Oliver’s guilt is tied back to those petty cruelties.
That’s what makes Oliver’s overall story arc sting. He narrates his life as though he’s the director, filling in imagined camera angles, fantasy scenarios, all staged in his head. One moment he’s staging a fantasy funeral where “local news analysis” mourns him, the next he’s admitting, “I don’t know if I’ve come of age… I feel shrunken…” The swing between being painfully self-aware and then hopelessly self-involved feels exactly like adolescence. It’s hard not to laugh at his arrogance, then cringe at how much it mirrors most people’s own teenage years.
In Submarine, he is neither a hero nor a villain — he’s the messy middle, and that’s why it works. Ayoade lets him be everything from selfish to a failure, and the performance is more authentic because of it. These moments are part of a universal recollection, a memory everyone carries from their earlier days. Oliver holds all of that, and that’s why it’s not hard to relate to him.
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There’s a Refreshing Honesty in Richard Ayoade’s Voice in ‘Submarine’
With Submarine, Ayoade proved he wasn’t just Moss with a camera. His direction drew easy comparisons to Wes Anderson with its symmetry, curated soundtrack, and even a touch of deadpan. Alex Turner traded Arctic Monkeys’ swagger for hushed acoustic songs that hum underneath, giving the film a melancholic edge. The influences are clear, but imitation was never the point. The film holds comedy and melancholy in the same hand. Oliver’s pursuit of Jordana Bevan is hilarious, mostly because of how awkward it is. They set fire to things together, pass notes in class and stumble through intimacy with all the charm of a science experiment gone slightly wrong. Running alongside that thread is Oliver’s fixation on his parents. He studies their marriage like a case file. At one point, he monitors the dimmer switch in their bedroom, convinced the light setting can reveal everything. It’s absurd, yet also heartbreaking.
Empathy stands out here, especially in Jordana’s sharp edges, which soften once her family’s problems surface. Oliver’s parents— played by Sally Hawkins and Noah Taylor—aren’t stock figures but two adults drifting apart in silence. Those little moments are where the film is most affecting. The style leans into Oliver’s imagination via title cards, montages and a dry voiceover that makes everything sound a little too rehearsed. Yet the quirk never drowns out the ache. His fantasy breakup shot, a cheap zoom gag, is funny, but the silence of his father’s depression lands heavier. The film keeps swinging between those poles, without warning, the way teenage moods do. It shies away from flattening adolescence into gags or nostalgia. Instead, it lets the mistakes stand, lets the humor sting, and shows how the act of “being cool” is often a mask for a deeper vulnerability beneath.
The ending says it best. Oliver and Jordana are at the shoreline, there are no speeches, no dramatic swell. Just two teenagers staring out at the grey horizon, bruised but still standing. The scene refuses closure, and that honesty feels right. Ayoade embraces the imperfection in Oliver’s, his family’s, and even the story’s lack of neat resolution. For a first film, Submarine showed not just potential but a tender, funny, unflinching, and fully formed voice.
Ready to dive in this offbeat indie gem? Submarine (2010) is now available to watch on Prime Video.
