The Old Oak

There's a strong argument to be made that Ken Loach is getting sentimental in his old age. 'The Old Oak (2023)' is reportedly the 87-year-old filmmaker's swan song and it's arguably one of his most hopeful films to date - especially when compared to his other recent (and superior) pictures, 'I, Daniel Blake (2016)' and 'Sorry We Missed You (2019)'. That's not to imply that this social realist call to action shies away from breaking your heart (lovers of a certain animal may just explode into a shower of tears thanks to a certain shocking scene), nor does it present itself as an overly idealised version of modern Britain. Loach still loathes the state of things and puts the blame solely on those in power (the only place it can sensibly lie), and he often uses his characters to espouse the ideals he so clearly holds close to his own heart. At the same time, though, there's an undercurrent of community and solidarity that is never fully stomped out by the racism, xenophobia and general bigotry on display by the story's least sympathetic characters. In some ways, that's almost a bigger middle finger to the system that breeds such views by scapegoating very real socio-economic issues on those who are least responsible for them (and are the most vulnerable, to boot). The narrative explores the events that unfold when a group of Syrian refugees are placed in a poverty-stricken village in the North of England that has essentially been left to rot, showcasing the disgusting resistance (i.e. Bigotry) they're met with after they've escaped a warzone and have been brought to one of the richest countries in the world only to find that people are having to choose between heating their homes and feeding their kids. It posits that the refugees and the unwelcoming community they're integrated with have more similarities than differences, and that it's only the worst members of the community that can't come to accept that. In fact, their ignorant attitudes actually hurt everyone in the village. The racism and xenophobia that is brought out of the protagonist's once friends is always extremely uncomfortable to sit through, and the film does a good job in making sure that it never even comes close to excusing - or, worse, sharing - these harmful attitudes. After a certain point, you've constantly got your guard up and anticipate some form of racially-motivated conflict at every turn, which - in some small way - puts you in the same position as its Syrian characters and further increases your empathy for them. Mainly thanks to a couple of surprisingly good performances from its non-professional lead actors, the movie is often as emotionally affecting as it is bleakly realistic. Its highs hit as hard as its lows and its important messaging is always resonant. It does have a few narrative issues that seem to mainly arise from its desire to subvert expectation in an effort to be more 'real' than a satisfyingly structured screenplay could - in their view - ever be. Certain plot elements are introduced yet never revisited, and the central concept doesn't come into play until far later than you may expect or, indeed, want. Still, it's an engaging and effective affair throughout. It isn't as good as some of Loach's other work, and it won't change the minds of those that need their minds changing simply due to the fact that they won't see it, but it's a solid and surprisingly hopeful note on which to end an impressively consistent career.

STAR RATING: ***** Brilliant **** Very Good *** Okay ** Poor * Awful

T. J. Ballantyne (Dave Turner) is the owner and proprietor of The Old Oak, a rundown, last surviving pub in a former mining town in the North East. Separated from his son, and with only local community activist Tania (Debbie Honeywood) and a few regulars for company, T. J.'s life was saved a few years ago by a small pet dog, who he now enjoys taking for walks. But when a group of Syrian refugees arrive in the town, whilst a housing crisis beckons, it causes a divide among T. J. and his former mining friends. When refugee Mara (Elha Mari) suggests they use the power of cooking to form a bond, it forces everyone to show their true colours.

The third film set in the North East from director Ken Loach and writer Paul Laverty, and reportedly the last film from eighty-seven year old Loach, effectively forms something of a trilogy, after 2019's Sorry We Missed You and 2016's I, Daniel Blake. Curiously, Loach has chosen to set this film in 2016, the year the latter of those two films was released, and more notably the year of 'the Brexit vote.' A few of the characters espouse the attitudes of many that people would have associated with a Brexit voter, but perhaps in a film centred around immigration, Loach wanted to show the average voter on the matter might have had more nuanced outlook on the matter than many might have thought.

Loach has crafted his trademark sense of realism once again, but the sense of urgency generated from scenes in previous films is missing here, in spite of the tensions that the central protagonists in the film are facing, instead meandering along, with drama flaring here and there, but at more of a leisurely, undramatic pace. That's not to say there aren't some powerful, wrenching moments that strike at the heart, there just feels less to lose. You do really get the impression of a place that was once prosperous that has been left to rot, a place full of desperate individuals who find themselves joined by some similarly desperate people. As T. J. notes at one point, why do we blame those at the bottom instead of those at the top.

Even the ending nods to a sense of hope in spite of despair, unlike Loach's other more recent output. If this is his last film, it won't be remembered as his best, but certainly a memorable swansong. ***

Set in a rapidly fading Northern English mining town, this tells the tale of an attempt to integrate some Syrian refugees fleeing the terror in their own country into a community that it still reeling from the systematic closure of their own livelihoods. Much of the story is based around the run-down "Old Oak" boozer which is run by the relatively open-minded "TJ" (Trevor Fox) who is pretty much a lone voice when it comes to welcoming these strangers to a place that's been devoid of investment - and hope - for many a year. Most of the locals see them fed and housed and, frankly, they resent it. Homes that they bought many years ago are now worth 20% of their former value, people and their families are trapped and their traditions and culture is dying. It's keen photographer "Tania" (Debbie Honeywood) who tries to bridge the cultural gap between the two peoples and eventually finds some like-minded folk who start to resurrect some of the practical solutions to the problems that this area faced during the turbulence of the miners' strikes of the 1980s. Unlike many of Ken Loach's other films, this is not an overtly political (anti-Thatcherite) statement. It's about the decline of a way of life, but set against a context of disaster and devastation faced by people fleeing something far more lethal and brutal. Indeed there is a positively celebratory scene where the Syrians are delighted to learn that their absent father/husband is not actually dead - he's just in a slum prison! The fact that these families are escaping something akin to the blitz doesn't lessen the resentment from some, though, and "TJ" is constantly trying to balance the needs of his customers/lifelong friends with his heartfelt desire to help these piteous homeless and stateless individuals. Despite the hostility on display at times, there is a pervading decency throughout this film and by the conclusion - which is not, in self, particularly conclusive - there is maybe just a little scope for optimism. If you enjoyed this film, check out "R. M. N" (2022) - a Romanian film doing the rounds just now that looks at this scenario from a different yet similar perspective and reminds us all, a little, of there but for the grace of god!

I am one of the projectionists in the local small town cinema with only two or three shows per week. The end titles of a film is not only for crediting all people involved in the production, it is also a time to reflect and contemplate on what you experienced when watching the movie, and you can measure how touched people were by how long they stay during the end titles. When The Old Oak was the movie for the evening not a single one in the audience got up from their seats until the last line in the credits had passed, the screen had faded to black and the curtains closed. That is a mark of a very touching movie!

No one can deny that our world is deeply divided. On a global scale, the plight of refugees fleeing conflict zones provokes strong emotions, which in turn breed prejudice, drive a wedge between communities, question long-held traditions, and make it harder for those who have lost loved ones, are uprooted, and are trying to find their place in the world.

Ken Loach tackles these profound issues in his movie, The Old Oak. Loach has made a name for himself with politically charged films. This one is no different, and he tackles these difficult and sensitive issues with empathy and nuance. The performances of Dave Turner and Ebla Mari (who plays Yara, one of the Syrian refugees) are outstanding, and they convey the soul and the pain of the characters. The performances from the non-professional cast are uneven, but I didn't feel this ever detracted from the film, which, at times, can feel like a blunt weapon. This film contains a few scenes that are absolutely blazing with intensity.

The Old Oak brings up some important questions for us, such as how to encourage kindness and unity in our neighbourhoods. How do social media platforms affect local communities? And how can our communities' cultural divides be closed? They are all handled in a compelling, dramatic, and powerful way.

If you are interested in watching films that are socially relevant, making a trip to the cinema to watch The Old Oak is something you should absolutely do. In a world that is becoming more and more torn apart, this is a powerful call for compassion and solidarity.