‘California Schemin’’ doesn’t quite have the hard edge you might expect from a story about deception and ambition, but it remains an engaging and curious debut from James McAvoy, who also has a supporting role. Based on a true story, the film follows two aspiring rappers, Billy (Samuel Bottomley) and Gavin (Seamus McLean Ross) from Dundee working in a call centre who travel to London for an audition – only to be mocked as “the rapping Proclaimers.” That humiliation becomes the catalyst for everything that follows.

It’s not quite a morality tale in the conventional sense. Instead, it plays like a scrappy, slightly offbeat comedy about two ordinary young men who feel overlooked and underestimated. In response, they construct an audacious lie: reinventing themselves as Californian rappers, complete with accents and backstory. Remarkably, the ruse works. Industry figures embrace them, they gain attention, and eventually secure a record deal. There’s an inevitability to it, of course – we know the truth will come out, much like with Dustin Hoffman in ‘Tootsie’ and Robin Williams in ‘Mrs. Doubtfire’, when the illusion can no longer be sustained.

What the film does well is explore the grey area between ambition and deception. How far are we willing to go to pursue success? At what point does self-promotion become dishonesty? In this case, the music itself is authentic – they write their own material – but the persona is entirely fabricated. That distinction is important, and it sets the film apart from real life stories like those of Milli Vanilli, where the art itself was also a lie.

There’s also a personal cost. Billy’s girlfriend Mary (Lucy Halliday), still back in Dundee and pregnant, becomes increasingly uncomfortable with the lifestyle they adopt – the parties, the excess, and the casual betrayals that come with their rise. What began as a cheeky act of rebellion against industry snobbery begins to look more like genuine moral compromise. Fame, when it arrives, exposes cracks in their friendship too, particularly in Gavin, whose behaviour takes on a more aggressive, self-serving edge.

Set in 2003, the film captures a moment just before the dominance of social media – a time when such a deception might plausibly succeed. Today, the illusion would likely unravel within hours. That period detail gives the story a certain authenticity and even a sense of nostalgia.

The film’s ultimate message, about staying true to oneself, is perhaps a little obvious, but the journey remains entertaining. There’s something compelling about the idea of escaping one’s roots and reinventing oneself, chasing a version of the American Dream from an unlikely starting point like Dundee. Crucially, their deception isn’t born out of malice, but out of frustration and rejection – a way of forcing the industry to listen on their own terms.

In the end, what makes ‘California Schemin’’ interesting is that the line between performance and identity becomes blurred. They may be pretending, but there’s also genuine talent beneath the façade. The act and the ambition become indistinguishable, raising the question of whether success in any field requires a certain degree of invention – and whether, once the illusion takes hold, it matters where it began.