1990. The rave scene has arrived from Ibiza and warehouse parties are exploding across the UK bringing phenomenal wealth to the organisers. In Manchester, best mates Matt and Dylan are in their early 20's and long to be more than just punters. As the government moves to outlaw the scene, it's now or never and they quickly rise through the ranks to join the promoting elite.
Thank the party gods then for Henry Lloyd-Hughes, whose excellent lead performance saves Weekender from being completely unwatchable.
The soundtrack is predictably fab, the plotting merely predictable and none of it amounts to very much.
A bang-on soundtrack will make the hairs on ex-ravers' necks stand up. The plot will have the opposite effect.
The leads gurn gamely, Ben Batt’s villain oozes menace and Golden directs energetically, but the climactic twists are as convincing as pills made of washing powder.
The young cast all perform admirably, particularly O'Connell as the impressionable Dylan, while the script is sharp and frequently funny. However, the plot itself is not an original one — it is too easy to predict events.
A dead party with too few tricks up its sleeve.
The actors do their best, and Ben Batt is strong as the appalling John the Rat, but this is weak and the ending ("Trust me – it's over") is just ridiculous.
A poor man's Human Traffic.
It all goes in exactly the direction you might expect.
The cast lift it from disaster.
Terry Farley remembers rave as Weekender hits the big screen
General release. Check local listings for show times.