My Name Is Joe

The awesome realism of "Once Were Warriors" (New Zealand, 1994), successfully transposed to Glasgow, Scotland.

Solid, decent human beings use alcohol and drugs to "cope" with life. But, life only gets worse, loyalties are brutally tested, and one poor unfortunate will not survive. But, don't think this to be another flaccid piece of cliched, anti-drug drivel. No, this film speaks powerfully to the perverse, and often vicious, arbitrariness of life. Darwinians, of course, will be unmoved. The rest of us, however, will be chilled by the scale of our impotence in making this world a better place. Prepare yourself to feel humbled.

That sense of what people can only look at and see with their own naked eyes and that of the stone wall truth lurking beneath is at the heart of Ken Loach's utterly mesmerising film My Name is Joe, a sentiment epitomised much later on when a bus load of Japanese tourists are seen to be visiting the nation of Scotland and ogle over what one might describe as a stereotypical Scotsman dancing away in his kilt whilst playing the bagpipes. The film's lead, a man who has taken a fair few knocks in his time, looks on at those embracing the outer-shell without, it would seem, giving much of a thought to anything else. You wouldn't know that Joe, the titular lead, was once an embittered and thoroughly foul individual whose turning to drink had him become a bit of a monster without a scene in which he confirms such a thing. The film is about alcoholism, but not the descent into it as much as it is the tale of somebody who has been there; defeated it and then strives to hold it off again on the way back up. In a sense, the film adopts that of the complexion of something along the lines of Carlito's Way but does for addiction what said De Palma film did for crime whereas its veering away from the depiction of someone (usually a young person, or a collection of young people) getting caught up in drugs and drug addiction has it feel eminently more refreshing away from British fare of around the time in Trainspotting and Human Traffic or from across the Atlantic in Requiem for a Dream.

That notion, harking back to those tourists and the distinction between what people can only see and what the reality of someone or something actually is, lies in Peter Mullan's Joe Kavanagh, a rough and ready individual who redecorates houses for a living; plays his football at weekends and sticks to the tried and tested items of leisure from his era, in the form of music from decades ago. The fact he was once the monster that he was becomes more apparent when we realise anyone in the world would far prefer him the way he is now compared to then, and yet brief descriptions of the man still has him sound like the sort of person most would cross the street if it meant avoiding walking past him. The film begins with a man's verbal confirmation of what an alcoholic is; the verbal closing of a particular chapter in his life and then a getting up and exiting of a room full of people to a round of applause from all involved. It is our Joe, and he has just attended his last alcoholic support group therapy session having been declared as to have defeated the condition and thus, free to go on living away from therapy attendance.

Thus starts a 'beginning again'; a new chapter and a new lease of life beginning with this point, a line from Joe during a chess match with one of his many friends seeing him state that he has "absolutley nothing" and is generally on the bottom rung of whatever ladder encompasses this time and place. Hiding behind his quick wit and cynicism, Joe keeps male company that isn't necessarily of the most resounding sort, and sees him able to wind them up them by instigating a mock-police raid prior to knocking on the front door – their reactions of leaping out of windows and doing everything in their power to escape speaks volumes. They play football at weekends and shout and jeer and swear, they even steal brand new football kits from the rear of sports shops when it becomes apparent they need new ones as people unload the things from lorries. Throughout, Loach's style, indebted to cinema vérité, props up proceedings and compliments greatly the material throughout.

At the core of the film is a relationship Joe finds himself in with a woman of his age named Sarah (Goodall), a social worker who operates with children that are under a great deal of strain thus coming across as someone adept at dealing with those of whom are a little problematic; a tad difficult to initially get to grips with and someone, we feel, with an enormous amount of patience in this regard – characteristics which bode well for her bond with Joe. While she doesn't understand, nor is particularly fond of, football and he doesn't go anywhere near the wine that she enjoys drinking with her dinner, these two come together and share something special which is introduced; developed and generally depicted with near effortless precision and finesse.

Around at Joe's apartment for one evening, she observes a group of youths casually enjoying alcohol on a local green outside his window and we get a general sense that this is where Joe was as a young man. Their tryst is a pleasing addition to Joe's constant combating of veering too far back towards old habits, his relationship with Sarah the opportunity for redemption in maintaining a relationship with a woman after it is revealed what previously happened. There are, of course, events and people around the lead whom drag him ever closer back to his pits of despair and disaster; the crime genre aspect of the film as a young hothead struggles with an outstanding debt compliments, more-so sits unsettlingly, with the lighthearted and comedic strand following the fortunes of a hapless football eleven as well as the romance with Sarah. One cannot speak highly enough of this wondrous piece, an intelligent and well made film those of whom enjoy their drama grounded and adult and their characterisation rich and textured.

As far removed from Hollywood's glamour as can come is Ken Loach's take on working-class life in Glasgow, in this film centered around a recovering alcoholic named Joe. Or rather non-working class, because the poverty and despair of the struggling late 1990s characters in My Name Is Joe feel as palpable as real unemployment. Loach describes the hopelessness of post-Thatcher peripheral Britain, much like Danny Boyle did in Trainspotting or Peter Cattaneo did with The Full Monty during the same period, only without the flashiness of the former or the bubbling positivism of the latter. Loach's characters are utterly and fundamentally sad - even when they are trying to have some fun. And since they have been in this rot for a long time, their destructiveness and, to be honest, often lack of redeemable qualities almost makes you feel they deserve their bad luck. Loach certainly gives them nothing for free.

Still, and as you may have learned by now, love has its way, and the romance between Joe and a well-doing health visitor named Sarah comes with a rare filmatic bareness and honesty. The lack of any kind of classical romanticism between them brings out another aspect: how much these two need each other; theirs feels like a romance borne out of necessity and circumstance, not plot-convenience. Like he has become known for doing over the years, Ken Loach strips his characters and environments down and presents them to us as they are. My Name Is Joe does tests the audience's zeal and goodness, but ultimately even Ken Loach rewards his most patient viewers.

Ken Loach has been making films about working class families for many years and My Name is Joe is one of his most powerful. Peter Mullan is instantly likable as Joe Kavanagh, a recovering alcoholic from Ruchill, a decaying suburb of Glasgow, who has a lot at stake. He has fallen in love with Sarah (Louis Goodall), a health worker, and wants to go straight but circumstances conspire against him. He is determined to help his friend Liam (David McKay) when he gets behind on his payments to a drug dealer but his options are limited and he is forced to make a choice that threatens the stability of his fragile relationship.

Mullan won the Best Actor award at the 1998 Cannes Film Festival and it is fully deserved. We know that Joe's problems are overwhelming but we root for him to make it in spite of the odds because of his warmth and humor and generosity towards others. Joe has been sober for a year and attends sessions of Alcoholics Anonymous. He also coaches the local soccer team composed of unemployed workers who have won only one game the entire year. When he meets Sarah, a social worker for the Health Department who is visiting Liam and his wife Sabine (Anne-Marie Kennedy) and young child, things start to look up. We do not learn much about Sarah's past but it is obvious that the two have discovered each other at a crucial point in their life.

In a powerful scene, Sarah asks Joe why he stopped drinking and he tells her how he had beaten a woman he was dating and has never forgiven himself. Both are very tentative about getting involved but they are also drawn to each other and can think about the future for the first time. Sadly, the world has other plans. Sabine is a heroin addict who used the drugs she was supposed to sell and is in serious debt to a local drug dealer McGowan (David Hayman), an old friend of Joe's. When the mobster boss demands that Liam cover his wife's debt or they will break his legs, Joe tries to moderate and ends up striking a deal with the mob, leading to a series of unfortunate events. In one of the most emotionally gripping scenes, Sarah berates Joe for lying to her and he responds "Some of us don't have a choice. Some of us don't have a f***ing choice." The mean streets of Ruchill are strewn with the results of urban decay and Loach does not spare us the details. He even mocks the image of bonnie Scotland with a scene involving a kilt-clad bagpiper playing the same three songs over and over for a group of tourists. Combining gritty realism with humor, My Name is Joe has an outstanding script by Paul Laverty and fully dimensional characters that transcend clichés. Loach does not pass judgment on his characters or directly condemn society for their failings. It is a work of compassion and humanity.

In Glasgow, Joe Kavanagh (Peter Mullan, in a superb performance) is an ex-alcoholic and unemployed simple, but good man. He is the couch of a soccer team, formed by poor players. Joe meets Sarah Downie (Louise Goodall), a community health worker and they start a romance. Liam (David McKay) is a player in Joe's team and ex-addicted in drugs. He has a beautiful son, but his wife Sabine (Anne-Marie Kennedy) is still using drugs and raises a huge debt together with the local drug dealer McGowan (David Hayman). Joe becomes aware of the problem and McGowan offers four options: the debt of 2.000 pounds be paid, Sabine becomes a prostitute, Liam becomes a drug dealer or Joe makes two delivers of drugs for him. Joe accepts the last option, jeopardizing the love of Sarah for him. This very touching low budget movie is an authentic lesson to Hollywood personnel of `How to make an excellent movie having an outstanding director, a wonderful screenplay and marvelous cast'. The story is simple, very credible and with no concessions. The focus is part of the Scottish population that lives in poverty conditions and without many options in life, and it is painful. The end of the story will break the heart of the viewer: it is impossible not to be with wet eyes. The soundtrack suits perfectly to this film. My vote is nine.