Like the incessant passing of time, some things are just inevitable. Somethings we should expect. Our environment often creates our zeitgeists, cultural figures who hold up a mirror to reflect the world around them. So in the 21st century, as the human race begins to stew in its own bubbling socio-economic broth, it the return of the hailed satirist Chris Morris really a surprise? No. But it is most definitely a welcome one.

Morris is a dagger, his comedy sharp and merciless

Chris Morris, in our current climate, feels as though he never really left. Despite no personal projects since 2010’s Four Lions (the satirical comedy revolving around a group of would-be terrorists), his presence is felt almost daily in the news. Morris is not writing the headlines, but the often ridiculous and farcical nature of them feel as though they have been lifted straight out of Brass Eye, his 1997 parody of the news. But this raises a problem for his return. Morris is a dagger, his comedy sharp and merciless. He was nicknamed the ‘most hated man in Britain’ after an episode of Brass Eye received 3,000 complaints, the record of that time. But does he still have that same impact? As the state of news descends to surrealist levels, and as a new wave of reactionary comedy rises to meet it, will there be space for a pioneer in the satire genre? After watching his new film, The Day Shall Come, the answer is clear. Yes. Unequivocally, yes.

The film itself is an absurd farce

The Day Shall Come sets its sights outside the UK, unlike the study of radicalism in Four Lions, and lands on corrupt bureaucracy in the United States, namely within the FBI. Morris focuses on the corruption and immorality in real-life FBI sting operations, specifically drawing inspiration on the case of the Liberty City Seven. In 2006, seven men were accused of plotting to destroy the Sears Tower, as members of the terrorist organisation Al Qaeda. However, their lawyers said they weren’t agents of Al Qaeda but simply men framed by the government, who had approached them with an informant, who offered them money in exchange for this attack. The seven men in question claimed they had no intention of going through with the attack, and instead wanted to con money from this informant. The Day Shall Come, directed by Morris, and written by himself and Peep Show’s Jesse Armstrong, lifts this narrative over to Miami, onto the shoulder of Moses, a fictional ‘sultan’ of a community mission who is manipulated by the FBI into scapegoating himself for the counter terrorism unit.

The film itself is an absurd farce, sending Moses, played by Marchant Davis, and his ‘followers’ back and forth on bewildering errands as they unknowingly, and genuinely often hilariously, tiptoe around the traps set by the FBI. Morris and Armstrong set the FBI up as a foil for these situations, who sit readily behind screens waiting to snare Moses, instead only to run about in confusion and panic when it goes awry. The face of the FBI in this film is that of Anna Kendrick as Kendra, and her boss, Andy, played by Denis O’Hare. The two play off of each other well in the scenes they share, with an unusual chemistry of dislike and dismay, tinged with an eagerness to impress each other. These off note interactions feel like more conventional back and forth dialogue comedy, than the surrealist day dream happening over during the scenes with Moses, who, for example, begins to believe God is communicating with him through his horse.

But this is where the film truly shines. Morris is not the defining feature of this vehicle: instead, it is Marchant Davis as Moses, who is a comedic revelation. Davis, better known as a theatre actor, here makes his silver screen debut, though his performance matches that of a screen veteran. He delivers difficult lines with conviction and hilarity, and his physicality manages to hold himself aloof and enigmatic when Moses must be regal, and vulnerable and bewildered when the very government begins to try and come down on his head. His facial expressions draw us in, as his youthful, unencumbered emotive looks often contrast against the harder and steely stares of the establishment. This lands our sympathies straight with Moses, as is where they are meant to be. His relationship with wife, played brilliantly by Danielle Brooks, humanises him, giving us context to his compassionate intentions, which gives the manipulation of him more weight.

Morris does not pull his punches in the end, and that is commendable

Because The Day Shall Come is also a tragedy. Like a rug from under your feet, you are reminded with force that this farce is based on real-world injustice, and the anger from Morris is apparent. This is the work of a man who didn’t want to tiptoe around his subject matter, but instead to confront it. The FBI are placed under a spotlight which offers them no reprieve. This is actually where the film falters slightly. Whilst Morris slams down into an unforgiving finale, and rightly so, the tragic elements of this film would perhaps pack even more of a punch if they were more closely examined throughout, such as Moses’ mental health issues and delusions, or even more emphasis on his family and friends. One of the strengths of Four Lions was the painful focus on the domestic life of the four men who would turn to radicalism. This focus could have been utilised further here. For example, some of Moses’ ‘followers’ begin to feel like one note caricatures, who deliver their punchline, then fall back into the sideline. But ultimately, Morris does not pull his punches in the end, and that is commendable. The farce comes crashing down and we are reminded of the difference between comedy and satire; that comedy doesn’t usually leave you with a knot twisting in your stomach.

The Day Shall Come finds success in both elements that it embodies. As a comedy, it succeeds thanks to the offbeat dialogue, performances, including a particularly excellent one from Davis, and the frantic nature of direction that Morris gives it. As a tragedy, it is profound, brave and unflinching in its condemnation of the FBI, and understanding and forgiving to a community of marginalised people who find themselves scapegoated. Despite the crazed nature of the world we live in, it seems as though Morris still has something to say. The day shall come when maybe we won’t need Chris Morris, but today is not that day.