There was a time when getting into a black cab meant more than simply getting from A to B. It could mean a conversation with a stranger, a recommendation from a local, or simply the small comfort of another human being behind the wheel. But as autonomous vehicles begin to appear on London’s streets, that familiar interaction is becoming increasingly uncertain. In his new short film Black Cab, writer-director James Arden explores what happens when technology threatens not only someone’s livelihood, but a fundamental part of their identity. Drawing on two years of research and conversations with real London cab drivers, Arden has created a quietly unsettling portrait of a man trying to find his place in a world that no longer seems to need him. We caught up with Arden to discuss the inspiration behind Black Cab, the realities of autonomous driving, masculinity, his cinematic influences and the human cost of our growing obsession with convenience.
Black Cab follows Harry, a third-generation London cab driver struggling to find his place and purpose in a rapidly changing world. What was the initial spark for the film, and what was it about the story that made you want to bring it to the screen?
It was initially quite a few years ago now. I came across some early test footage for a company called Wayve, which is one of the Waymo competitors and, I think, started in London. They had these early examples online of what the cars see and how the technology works, and it had this really cold, otherworldly feeling to it, analysing data points, people and cars.
From that, I started thinking about the inevitable impact this technology will have on people who make a living behind the wheel, and how the technology will obviously snowball and keep developing. I kept up with how it was progressing and, at the same time, started writing the script.
I thought we’d make the film and there would probably be several years still before this kind of thing was on the streets. Now, as we’re releasing the film, Waymo and Wayve are testing in London. You can see them on the streets. They’re already operating in quite a few cities in America, so it’s snowballed really quickly. It’s quite uncanny to see it happening in real life.
“Ultimately, is it something that’s life-affirming and does it improve our lives, or does it actually take away more than it potentially gives us?”
You spent around two years researching the film and speaking to taxi drivers. What surprised you most during that research?
It was a really interesting process hearing the differing opinions taxi drivers had.
I was fortunate enough to go and sit in some of the green cab shelters that are left in London. There are about 12 or 13 of them now, I think, whereas there used to be more than 60, and a few are still functional. We actually shot in one of them in the film. It’s that small, café-looking building.
I sat in one of those quite a few times and chatted to drivers, asking them what they thought was going to happen. There was a real divide between people who were very cynical and thought the writing was on the wall, and others who still believed that people want a human connection and that maybe we don’t know how it’s going to pan out, which we obviously don’t. You can’t really predict the future.
I think it was surprising to realise there was such a divide, and that it didn’t really matter on age or experience. People just had different opinions and came at it from different places.
Did those conversations ultimately change the script or influence the character of Harry?
I think all those conversations informed what became Harry in the film. Those who had a more idealistic, arguably naïve perspective on it all obviously fed into his character and how he starts out in the film.
Those conversations also informed the café scene itself, where we’re with Maggie and the other drivers. That was very much informed by the lunches and chats I had in that actual space.
The film explores automation and the threat it poses to traditional jobs. How did you approach that without making it feel like a simple “technology is bad” story?
I’m really glad that came across. I was loath to make a film that, although it’s set in the near future and has these technological elements, felt like a horror sci-fi or something that really painted the technology as evil.
If anything, it has a kind of coldness to it, which I wanted to come across. It’s not judging him, and it’s not judging what it’s doing. The technology is just technology. It’s analysing roads and taking people where they need to go.
I wanted it to be about a family and a family drama. That was the focus, rather than the supposed evil of technology.
More than anything, I want the film to be a conversation starter. We keep hearing the phrase about AI and other technology that “it’s here, it’s here to stay, it’s not going anywhere”, which I think is true to an extent. I wanted to start a conversation about how that could impact someone rather than making it a good-versus-evil story.
“I hope it’s a conversation starter around what the cost of convenience is on the everyday person.”
With autonomous vehicles becoming increasingly realistic, does it feel like the world of Black Cab is becoming less like science fiction and more like reality?
Completely. It’s really strange to see Wayve and Waymo vehicles on London streets. I’ve seen both of them.
I was just in LA to premiere the film at HollyShorts, and they’re everywhere there. From a curiosity point of view, I obviously had to get one. I got a Waymo to the premiere just to see what they feel like and what that technology is like for the consumer.
Obviously, they’re designed to be incredibly convenient and safe, and I think they are going to expand. They’re going to be on highways in the States and they’re going to be in London. So I think it’s inevitable, really.
We’ve got to figure out how we can balance convenience with the impact on everyone else.
How did it feel being in one?
I think you’d be surprised by how safe and convenient they feel. That was my impression, which is obviously what they’re designed to be.
Interestingly, I’m obviously slightly more in-depth on this stuff than most people, but on Uber you can now opt for silent rides, where you tick a box so your driver won’t speak to you. I’ve seen this.
That’s all, I think, part of the journey towards disconnecting from the person in the front seat and making it just about you as the passenger. It’s quite eerie to be aware of all that stuff. I’m not sure I agree with it, but it’s interesting.
They work with a mix of LiDAR and analysing objects, so all these sensors are constantly analysing what’s out there on the road.
And, as is the case with their marketing, their marketing is very, very good. I think one of Waymo’s slogans is “The safest driver you’ll ever have”, because every journey they make feeds back into a mainframe or database, with the data from all the rides.
It’s already the most experienced driver on the road in a way that more than any human ever could be.
Harry is facing the possibility of becoming obsolete, both professionally and personally. How important was his sense of masculinity and identity to the character?
Masculinity is interesting because there are female taxi drivers, female truck drivers and loads of women who will be affected by this technological shift.
I was keen to focus on a character like Harry because he’s a dinosaur in a way. He’s a well-meaning man, but he’s arguably stubborn and naïvely idealistic. Maybe he doesn’t quite know where to turn or even have the confidence to retrain.
He’s long enough in the tooth to perhaps not know where to turn. As he says in the film, “This is supposed to be my ticket.” He would have worked hard for years to pass the Knowledge. Maybe he didn’t do so great in school, and this was his thing.
I think his identity is wrapped up a lot in his job and, by extension, his sense of masculinity and his sense of being a provider, a father and a family man.
He’s struggling internally with the prospect of being rudderless and not knowing how to continue those aspects of who he is through his work.
But I think we can all relate to wanting to preserve our place in the world, whether we’re a man or a woman. We all tend to latch onto our jobs as a big part of our identity.
I think one of the first questions you generally ask someone when you meet them is, “What do you do?” That immediately becomes something about who that person is.
I think we could all do some work to separate ourselves from our work a bit more. It might be healthy.
“We’re getting rid of as many interactions with other people as possible.”
Did you take inspiration from other films or filmmakers when creating Black Cab?
Always. I’m a really big fan of British filmmakers like Andrea Arnold and Lynne Ramsay, and Alan Clarke as well.
We were looking a lot at those social realist influences. Alan Clarke in particular has a kind of coldness to his realism that really impacted me.
Then, more recently, definitely stuff like the Safdies. That kind of stressful cinema tends to bleed into my work a bit.
So, loads of people really. I think it’s an amalgamation of a lot of things.
London feels like such an important part of the film. What did you want the city to contribute to Harry’s story?
I think inevitably, in the way that black cabs are intertwined with London’s identity, London itself is an identity. That’s their home, that’s where they operate.
I wanted to strike a balance between wanting it to feel quite lonely as a setting, especially for him, while still having pedestrians and the odd vehicle around. But I also wanted it to feel eerily empty at the same time, to reflect his disconnection and his inability to find customers.
The goal was to portray London as a fairly cold place, with not much in it, in a way, and then show pockets of it where it’s a bit friendlier, like the cab shelter and, obviously, his home.
I wanted it to reflect his state of mind as a setting more than anything.
Your lead, Jay Simpson, is excellent in the film. What did he bring to Harry that perhaps wasn’t on the page?
Jay really is a marvellous actor, and he was perfect. Once we auditioned, we saw quite a few people and Jay was just perfect, I think.
He brought something to the character that I hadn’t quite anticipated, which is this combination, almost at odds with itself, of someone who’s emotional, present and approachable, but who also has this wiry side where his desperation comes out.
I think he brought, through his worldly experience and his portrayal, this depth to the character that wasn’t necessarily on the page. It’s just something you see in his face immediately.
Ultimately, what do you hope audiences take away from Black Cab? Is there a particular question you’d like them to leave thinking about?
I guess it’s obviously a fictionalisation of what’s becoming an actual current question.
I hope it’s a conversation starter around what the cost of convenience is on the everyday person.
We increasingly live in a world that’s built around streamlining and convenience, and almost disconnecting from everything around you in your day-to-day life. We’re getting rid of as many interactions with other people as possible.
We don’t check out our own shopping anymore. Well, sorry, we do check out our own shopping now. We don’t speak to a person. You don’t have a cashier, do you?
And one of the great things about travelling for me is getting in a cab in a country I’ve never been to and maybe having a little chat with the driver about where to go and what to do. Obviously, they’re not all friendly, but I think the majority of them are.
So I think it’s a question for me about what we’re trading off with all of this stuff coming in. Ultimately, is it something that’s life-affirming and does it improve our lives, or does it actually take away more than it potentially gives us?
I hope that’s the kind of question people start considering.
In the end, Black Cab isn’t really about whether autonomous vehicles are good or bad. Instead, Arden leaves us with a far more complicated question: what are we willing to sacrifice in exchange for convenience? As technology continues to remove the need for human interaction from more and more aspects of everyday life, the film asks us to consider whether making everything faster, easier and more efficient necessarily makes our lives better. For Arden, the hope is that Black Cab starts a conversation. And perhaps that’s the film’s most human quality of all: in a story about technology threatening to disconnect us from one another, it ultimately reminds us just how much we still need to connect.
