Every Brilliant Thing

Every Brilliant Thing by Duncan Macmillan, with original performer and co-writer Jonny Donahue.  Belvoir, Sydney, January 11-26 2020.

Reviewed by Frank McKone
January 12

Director – Kate Champion; Set and Costume Designer – Isabel Hudson; Lighting Designer – Amelia Lever-Davidson; Sound Designer – Steve Francis


Performed by Steve Rodgers (Co-Director)

The ethics of reviewing require the disclosure of potential bias.  The travel writer reveals the company that paid for their travel and accommodation at the holiday destination.  In my case, I have reviewed Steve Rodgers’s work as writer, director or performer a number of times (on this blog) with the note that he was once a student of mine.

The standing ovation he received last night at Belvoir for his solo performance as Narrator, and as co-director with Kate Champion, of Every Brilliant Thing requires me to explain in more detail why I was affected by the nature of this play, and by Steve Rodger’s interpretation of it, in a particular way, the same but different from other audience members.

I went to see the play cold.  That is, I had not been aware of its performance history, including the nomination of Jonny Donahue for several awards following his five months’ showing off-Broadway, also screened as an HBO World of Wonder Special.  My travel plans last year meant I missed the opportunity to see Kate Mulvaney’s performance; nor was I aware that Kate Champion and Steve Rodgers were the directors at that time.  I had not been aware either, of Joyce Morgan’s review in the Sydney Morning Herald (March 17, 2019), nor of any other reviews or commentary.  I had not known that a few clicks into Youtube would show me different stage designs, different actors in the Narrator role on stage and in rehearsal; even interviews with the author and company directors.

Steve Rodgers explaining her task to audience member,
Every Brilliant Thing, January 11 2020
Photo: Brett Boardman

I knew nothing, except that Belvoir advertised this return season, with a smiling photo of Steve Rodgers, as “BACK BY POPULAR DEMAND!” – and not even did I know anything about the content of the play, imagining it to have some reference, perhaps, to My Brilliant Career! 

So I was surprised to be greeted warmly, with a huge hug, by one-time student Steve on the stairs to Belvoir Upstairs, who gave me and my wife a slip of paper numbered 717.  “When you hear me say seven hundred and seventeen, you must read out loud what it says,” he told us.  It read “Nina Simones Voice” (without the apostrophe, the old teacher in me noticed).

“I am reviewing,” I told him.  “Well, then I’d better be good!” he replied, as he moved on and we entered the auditorium to find our seats, kindly provided by Kabuku Public Relations at the usual Row E 25/26.  But instead of the usual centrally-situated view of the acting space taking up the corner of the old tomato sauce factory floor, on the far side was a complete reproduction of the seating on our side.  Theatre completely in-the-round – as I had seen at Belvoir only once before, for Life of Galileo last year (reviewed here August 10, 2019).

Steve Rodgers, a quiet moment in role
Every Brilliant Thing, January 11 2020
Photo: Brett Boardman

 Then what happened stunned me.  I watched my student Steve doing what I had taught him to do in the Drama Room at Hawker College back in 1987.  Suddenly my reviewer’s mortar board hat was perched precariously on my drama teacher’s skin, now even more bald, but still firmly attached.  To review is to write about drama; to teach and learn drama is to simply “Do It” – as one educational drama professional association had named their journal in the 1970s.

Over their two-year course in Years 11/12, I had not run theatre skills training classes, not academic literary or theatre history studies, or even staging theatre productions as my central approach.  Taking up from English educational drama traditions for younger students, particularly of Dorothy Heathcote and Brian Way, and combining those with my experiences, particularly in Sydney with Margaret Barr and Richard Wherrett and strongly influenced by Rex Cramphorn, I focussed my teaching on participation and learning leadership through whole group improvisation.

Classes contained students, mixing those in Year 11 and Year 12, at anywhere from Unit 1 to Unit 6 level of experience.  The basic method was for me, or for a student, or for a small group, to provide a point of stimulation to begin a “workshop”.  This could be as simple as having a person stand in a spotlight.  Others might respond by asking that person a question.  Bit by bit as they answer, that person and everyone in the class find themselves creating roles which determine action, and a drama results.

Among my favourites was one which turned out to be an upperclass garden party, in which I became the silent garden gnome, thoroughly soaked when someone turned the watering system on as a lark, and finally being “accidentally” knocked over.  I was able surruptitiously to escape by unobtrusively rolling into the non-acting space behind the drama room’s surrounding black curtains.

The principal stimulating device in Belvoir’s Every Brilliant Thing was more sophisticated but still very simple: Steve Rodgers (in my terms as last night’s workshop leader) meeting and greeting participants on the stairway, giving some of them mysterious cards with numbers and words to say, coming in with everyone, explaining their tasks to some people with cards – and then, after walking around a little in the central acting space, just quietly standing still (without even a spotlight), looking thoughtful, perhaps a bit worried, until everyone has realised he is there and gone quiet.

Steve learned to do this in Year 12, became a leader in whole-group improvisations which could often become intense dramas (and played a very humorous God Hephaistos in a student written, directed and managed production), before attending my Audition Training extra-curricular class and attaining a place as today’s program records at Theatre Nepean at Western Sydney University.

And then what was so brilliant for me, perhaps even more than for the upstanding, cheering audience at the end of the one millionth Every Brilliant Thing, was how wonderfully well Steve Rodgers melded the written script with his selection of audience members, shifting so easily in and out of his role as the son of a woman who killed herself “in a masculine way” and his role as improvisation workshop leader.

The result is, as Duncan Macmillan clearly hoped for his play, an educational drama of the very best quality.  [  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yEbv1bGZhX0  ]  

The humbling thing for me was to see a student so overwhelmingly surpass his teacher in such a magnificent performance – my personal millionth and one Brilliant Thing.

Audience member in role as "Sam" proposing marriage
to Steve Rodgers in role as Narrator
Every Brilliant Thing, January 11 2020
Photo: Brett Boardman

THE LITTLE MERMAID

Book by Doug Wright

Music by Alan Menken

Lyrics by Howard Ashman & Glenn Slater

Directed by Jordan Best

Ickle Pickle Productions

Belconnen Theatre to 25^th January

Reviewed by Len Power 11 January 2020

Based on the Hans Christian Anderson story and the animated 1989 Disney movie, ‘The Little Mermaid’ tells the story of Ariel, a mermaid who dreams of the world above the waves and gives up her voice for the love of a handsome human.

Director, Jordan Best, has given the show a fine staging full of colour and movement.  It moves at a fast pace with good performances and strong production values.  Her staging of the storm sequence was especially well done.

The set design by Ian Croker cleverly evokes this crazy undersea world.  Fiona Leach has designed a dazzling array of colourful and sparkling costumes for the myriad of sea creatures and the lighting by Sidestage Productions gives the show a fine aquatic atmosphere.  Makeup designs by Eryn Marshall were quirky and effective.

There were some strong performances amongst the large cast.  Emily Pogson’s performance in the central role of Ariel the mermaid was nicely detailed and she sang very well, especially the memorable ‘Part Of Your World’.

Meaghan Stewart excelled as the crab, Sebastian, leading the big song from the show, ‘Under The Sea’ with gusto and an infectious sense of fun.  Janie Lawson gave a delicious performance as the evil Ursula and led the song, ‘Daddy’s Little Angel’ superbly.

There were too many in the strong cast to mention individually but Jack Morton as the seagull, Scuttle, Michael Jordan as King Triton, Joss Kent as Chef Louis and Jade Breen as Flounder all gave notable performances.

There was also fine work by the six Mersisters.  Their ensemble singing was assured and each performer presented an attractive individual character.

The choreography by Jodi Hammond suited the underwater theme of the show very well and the cast performed the dances with confidence and enthusiasm.  There were some well-trained dancers in the cast who featured strongly in ‘Under the Sea’ and especially in the tap routine for ‘Positoovity’.

There was strong vocal work by the company and the balance between voices and the pre-recorded music was just right.

This is a good production of the Disney show that will please both adults and children.

Len Power’s reviews are also broadcast on the Artsound FM 92.7 ‘In the Foyer’ program on Mondays and Wednesdays at 3.30pm.

The Little Mermaid

The Little Mermaid.  Music by Alan Menken, lyrics by Howard Ashman and Glenn Slater, book by Doug Wright, based on the Hans Christian Andersen story and the Disney film produced by Howard Ashman and John Musker and written by John Musker and Ron Clements.

Ickle Pickle Productions, produced by Justin Watson.  Belconnen Community Theatre, January 10-25, 2020.

Reviewed by Frank McKone
January 10

Director – Jordan Best; Musical Director – Adam Bluhm; Choreographer – Jodi Hammond.

Costume Designer – Fiona Leach; Makeup Design – Eryn Marshall; Set Designer – Ian Croker; Lighting – Sidestage Productions; Music Sequencing – Smilin’ James Aspland



When you go to see The Little Mermaid, make sure you pack your sense of humour.  Jordan Best and her team’s design and direction have set the tone exactly right.  Everyone on stage – and I think there were 40! – understood and thoroughly enjoyed the fun side of such an unlikely seaside story.  Don’t miss, for example, the array of complex characters among the wonderfully sweet-singing but terribly bitchy Mersisters.

Turning a cartoon, essentially made for very young children – almost at Sesame Street age level – into a stage show suited for 10-year-olds and up, is a risky venture.  As a movie, the close-ups of the character’s faces – especially, say, of the way Ariel’s eyes can take over the whole screen – or the way the moving image of life under the sea can be fascinating to watch just for its colour and variety, Disney’s The Little Mermaid is an attractive fairy-story fantasy.  We get the point of the story, but it presents a ‘lite’ version.

Ickle Pickle give us the grown-up version in which the Ariel’s teenage need to escape her royal father’s assumption – that he must control her life to protect his daughter – becomes a serious theme, even if it means she must accept the risks of becoming her own woman.  Emily Pogson successfully makes Ariel’s constricted life as a princess believable.  The risk for Jordan Best here is that the movie’s light quality (which is what makes it such a longstanding favourite) could become too dark and heavy.  (I almost began to think, when Samuel Dietz’s character Grimsby announces at the end “After all, I do believe in royalty”, of Prince Harry and his love for Meghan.)

The great success of Best’s directing is to find the right spot, where the characters are played with a clear sense of not taking themselves too seriously – in fact the whole production in its stage design, lighting effects, humorous choreography, costuming and makeup, and often arch singing, play with the truth that theatre is just an illusion.

And to bring this all together on such a small stage with such a large group of so many young performers (but not forgetting the adults, Michael Jordan playing King Triton and especially Janie Lawson playing Ursula as almost a spoof of Shakespeare's Oberon and Titania) is a logistical and artistic achievement in its own right.

Enjoy!

DISNEY'S THE LITTLE MERMAID

 

Disney's The Little Mermaid.

Music by Alan Menken. Lyrics by Howard Ashman and Glenn Slater. Book by Doug Wright. Directed by Jordan Best. Musical direction Adam Bluhm. Choreography Jodi Hammond. Set design Ian Croker. Costume design Fiona Leach. Ickle Pickle Productions. Belconnen Theatre.  January 10 – 25 2020. Bookings 0460 401 621.

Reviewed by Peter Wilkins

It is easy to see from Ickle Pickle’s Summer holiday production of Disney’s musical adaptation of Hans Christian Andersen’s classic The Little Mermaid why the show is such a favourite amongst Disney fans.  Director Jordan Best has inspired a production that is infectiously joyous, brimming with delight and filling the unpretentious Belconnen Theatre with charming story and song.

Best is a consummate actor’s director, and she has managed to excite and inspire her largely young amateur cast to create lively and believable characters. Whether a principal or a member of the very large ensemble, each performer embraces his or her role with absolute relish. The production bursts with energy, wit and humour and an opening night audience largely comprising eagerly applauding friends and family quickly became thoroughly immersed in the story of sweet mermaid Ariel (Emily Pogson), who rescues Prince Eric (Ben Brown) from drowning and longs to join the human species in that part of the world above the water’s surface.

Emily Pogson as Ariel in Ickle Pickle's The Little Mermaid

Pogson is enchanting in the central role of the youngest of the  preening, envious daughters of King Triton ( Michael Jordan). She combines naïve innocence with heart-filled longing for a more natural life. She is supported by some very fine performances, most notably from Meaghan Stewart’s heavily accented and over the top crabby crustacean Sebastian, Jade Breen’s loyal and flustering Flounder, Janie Lawson’s devilish Ursula and her two wicked sea urchins,  Flotsam (Jackie McIntyre) and Jetsam (Eliot Cleaves). Jack Morton is a scene stealing Scuttle with his wing flapping rendition of Positoovity and shrill glottal gull squawk. Joss Kent gives a comical performance as the poisson pulping Chef Louis to the bright and breezy accompaniment of Be Our Guest from Disney’s other poplar hit Beauty and the Beast. Throughout the show, there are moments that enthral and Best with her creative team makes the most of the simple imaginative devices and clever business to capture the charm of this beloved musical and maximise the talents of her large company, colourfully costumed in Fiona Leach’s inventive creations. Musical director Adam Bluhm and choreographer Jodi Hammond keep the musical and dance numbers exuberant and varied as the cast revel in calypso, tap and can-can.

Ickle Pickle, unlike the majority of music theatre companies in Canberra, has decided not to mike their singers.  This allows for a purer, more natural and emotionally truer sound, but even in the intimacy of the Belconnen Theatre, untrained and less confident singers can lose the full impact of their musical numbers. Hopefully confidence and breathing techniques will develop the solo numbers more strongly as the season develops.

  Ben Brown as Prince Eric Jack Morton as Scuttle and

Emily Pogson as Ariel in Ickle Pickle’s The Little Mermaid

The simple and imaginative staging of the Disney Musical, embellished by Sidestage Production’s colourful and mood enhancing lighting emphasises the  underlying messages of the musical.  Ariel seeks to be true to herself. King Triton harbours resentment against a human race that would damage and pollute the purity of his ocean world. Ursula’s bitter jealousy is a curse that will eventually destroy her and the  worlds of earth, air and water can find a union in the love of Eric and Ariel. All because of the fascination with a fork and a storm at sea.

If the art of theatre is to entertain and educate, then Ickle Pickle’s heartwarming holiday production of The Little Mermaid is well worth coming to see what’s under the sea in that part of the world.

  

PORTRAIT OF A LADY ON FIRE

M, 119 minutes

5 Stars

Review by © Jane Freebury

A boat with a young female passenger on board makes its way along a rocky coastline. When a piece of luggage falls overboard she jumps in to rescue it, petticoats, boots and all. It might have been end of story in late eighteenth-century France where this film is set but, surprisingly, she can swim.

Artist Marianne (Noemie Merlant) is on her way to take up a new commission, painting the portrait of a young aristocrat who lives in a chateau on an island off Brittany. The new client, the Countess (Valeria Golino), needs a likeness of her daughter Heloise (Adele Haenel) to send to a prospective husband, a Milanese nobleman, so the wedding can go ahead.

it's not possible to watch this ravishing period piece without thinking of The Piano, but there are significant differences

An arranged marriage in times past, stirring scenes on a beautiful, empty beach, a woman who expresses herself in the arts. It’s not possible to watch this ravishing period piece without thinking of Jane Campion’s The Piano. But there are significant differences. This is a love story between two women, and as the filmmaker points out, they are equals.

Correcting the pose: Heloise (Adele Haenel) on left and Marianne (Merlant)

It seems to me no accident that the writer-director, Celine Sciamma has set her story before the onset of the French Revolution, at a liminal moment for freedom and equality. She makes nothing of it, however.

Heloise, just out of a convent is refusing to marry, and she won’t cooperate for any portrait because the result will be marriage. Marianne learns that her elder sister didn’t wish to marry the Milanese nobleman either, and it seems she took her life on a walk along the cliff edge.

With instructions from the Countess to become her daughter’s companion, Marianne spends her days observing Heloise and taking mental notes as they go on walks together. She then paints by candlelight in the evening.

With little else to do but walk, talk and read, a relationship begins to develop between the artist and the aristocrat. In particular, they love to read and re-read the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice, wondering about the motivations behind the tragic ending.

Although Heloise becomes aware of the deception she agrees to be painted anyway and during the sittings the two women spar, circle each other and eventually fall in love. The scenes as their relationship develops are exquisitely written by Sciamma, who won best screenplay at Cannes.

men are scarcely present, though still operating outside the frame

We don't see much of men here. After Marianne's arrival at the isolated castle, they are scarcely present though they are still operating outside the frame. Like the Milanese nobleman directing events from afar, or the local swain who has made the diminutive maid, Sophie ( Luana Bajrami), pregnant.

The absence of men allows Portrait to concentrate exclusively on a world of women in which the female sensibility and solidarity rules. It is expressed with intensity one evening when Marianne and Heloise join a group of local women gathering in the fields around a bonfire. It isn’t really clear what the gathering is about, but when the women join in an exquisite capella chorus and sing in Latin, it becomes a moment of surreal beauty and a celebration of feminine unity.

The painterly imagery is beautiful if rather stern and uncluttered and the soundtrack, with little music, is simply content to heighten the realism of the domestic world the women inhabit, with its crackling hearth and rustling, breathy silences. It is all the more powerful for it, more than making up for the minimalism with a few sublime musical moments like the ethereal capella singing.

On another occasion we hear ‘Summer’ from Vivaldi’s Four Seasons when Marianne bumbles through it on a harpsicord. She doesn’t do it  justice, but the scene lays the foundation for the amazing and intense concert finale.

the sea plays its part: can Heloise (Adele Haenel) swim too? 

This intelligent and sensuous film is special. An intimate and delicate study of how two people can fall in love. Marianne and Heloise could be any two individuals who fall in love, and the world that their story builds is rich reward to those who are willing to enter.

First published in the Canberra Times on 29 December 2019. Also published on Jane's blog

SHREK The Musical

Presented by John Frost and Glass Half Full Productions in association with Neal Street Productions and Playful Productions.

Directed by Jason Moore and Rob Ashford. Musical Direction by Dave Skelton

 Sydney Lyric Theatre – 5^th January to 9^th February 2020.

Sydney opening night reviewed by Bill Stephens

Ben Mingay (Shrek) - Nat Job (Donkey - Lucy Durak (Princess Fiona) 

The story of how a lonely green ogre and a beautiful fairy-tale princess find true love through mutual flatulence forms the basis of this delightfully silly musical.

Adapted from the popular DreamWorks animated film, which itself was based on a book by William Steig, “SHREK  The Musical”, traces the travails of a lonely ogre, Shrek, (Ben Mingay) who discovers that his swamp has suddenly been occupied by an assortment of  recognisable  fairy-tale  characters who’ve been banished by the evil, short-statured, Lord Farquaad (Todd McKenney). Farquaad’s planning to marry Princess Fiona, (Lucy Durack) currently imprisoned in a tower guarded by a fearsome dragon (Marcia Hines).

Nat Jobe (Donkey) and the dragon (Marcia Hines) 

Anxious to regain his swamp, and his privacy, Shrek decides to visit Farquaad and demand his swamp back. Along the way he rescues a donkey (Nat Jobe) who takes it on himself to accompany Shrek on his journey.

Farquaad agrees to return the swamp to Shrek on the proviso that Shrek rescues Princess Fiona from the tower, and return her to him. You don’t need a spoiler alert to guess that Shrek and Fiona discover their mutual attraction but you’ll have to see the show yourself if you want to know how they overcome the complications which arise.

Shrek (Ben Mingay)  and the fairy tale characters in the swamp. 

David Lindsay-Abaire’s book and lyrics are witty, and it’s fun to follow the back stories of the various fairy-tale characters portrayed by the talented and hardworking ensemble. Jeanine Tesori’s score is catchy, with spectacular picture-book settings  and costumes, along with  some magical puppets including a magnificent dragon, a talking ginger-bread man, and a loveable scurry of tap-dancing rats, all designed by Tim Hatley.

Jason Moore and Rob Ashford’s direction, meticulously reproduced here by Jenny Sawyer, embellished with snappy and impeccably danced choreography by Josh Prince, replete with witty Broadway references, and a superb band under the direction of David Skelton, allows “SHREK The musical” to bubble along with enough surprises, both visual and verbal, to keep the littlies and their minders captivated until the very end. 

    

But there’s more. This production is blessed with a top-line cast who manage to find the humanity, as well as the humour, in roles which could so easily have simply been pantomime characters, so that the underlying messages of inclusiveness, and being satisfied with who you are, are allowed to land gently.

Lucy Durak (Princess Fiona) and Ben Mingay (Shrek) 

Despite his cumbersome fat suit and thick green latex make-up , Ben Mingay delights with his lovable, if occasionally churlish, Shrek. His confident acting, thoughtful phrasing and distinctive, soaring baritone ensure that each of his songs is a joy to listen to.

Also no slouch in the vocal department, Lucy Durack revels in the opportunities provided by her role as the feisty Princess Fiona to exercise her considerable comedic talents. Her interactions with Mingay are delightful, particularly in the farting scene, which on opening night reduced several small boys in the audience to helpless giggles.

Nat Jobe captured just the right level of sassiness to make his donkey both funny and loveable, Marcia Hines, as the dragon, raises the roof with her stunning off-stage rendition of “Forever”, then returning for the finale, this time in full view and spectacularly costumed, to lift the audience out of their seats with the red-hot interpretation of the best song in the show, “I’m a Believer”.

Todd McKenney (Lord Farquaad), Rubin Matters (Knight)

 But perhaps best of all is Todd McKenney, demonstrating his genuine star quality, playing his entire role on his knees, while chewing up the scenery, to create an unforgettable Lord Farquaad, surely one of the funniest, most bizarre and memorable musical theatre villains you’re ever likely to come across.

                                                          Photos - Brian Geach.

This review also appears in AUSTRALIAN ARTS REVIEW. www.artsreview.com.au

SORRY WE MISSED YOU

MA 15+, 100 minutes

3 Stars

Review by  © Jane Freebury

Ken Loach is into his 80s now, still powering on as a firebrand for social justice with films about ordinary people up against the system. He has been an activist all his life, from the theatre, to TV to the cinema. No story has been too big or too small, as long as it got the point across.

Director Loach and his frequent collaborator and screenwriter here, Paul Laverty, have a reporter’s instinct for the social realist stories that will expose injustice and tell it how it is. They are directed with a naturalistic aesthetic as though they were the unvarnished truth, just like documentary.

There have been exceptions, like the charming love story Ae Fond Kiss and hallucinating soccer fandom in Looking for Eric, but Loach is strict with himself and likes to keep clear of indulgences that filmmakers allow themselves with sound, or music or special effects.

When he won the Palme d’Or at Cannes a few years ago for I, Daniel Blake, it was the second time he had received the honour. The first was a decade earlier for The Wind That Shakes The Barley, set at the time of Irish independence and the ensuing civil war.

on the other side of the desk sits Gavin who is right across hollow management­-speak

If the accolades in 2016 were like the culmination of a life’s work for Loach, and the moment to put his feet up, he didn’t. The gig economy is upon us and he has found that there is still no time to rest, and with this painful and touching story about a delivery van driver and his family, it’s hard not to agree. Like I, Daniel Blake, it’s set in Newcastle, England.

Vindaloo for dinner: (from left) Ricky (Kris Hitchen), Liza Jane (Katie Proctor), Abbie (Debbie Honeywood) and Seb (Rhys Stone) 

From the moment Ricky Turner (Kris Hitchen) has his interview to join parcel delivery company PDF as a courier, it is impossible to imagine that things could go well for him. Predictability in the narrative is the big problem here.

On the other side of the desk sits Gavin Maloney (Ross Brewster) who is right across hollow management­-speak. Ricky won’t be working ‘for’ PDF, he’ll be working ‘with’ them. As an owner-driver he will get a ‘fee’ for his services, rather than a wage, but it’s all spin that hides the fact that Ricky has to put $1,000 down on the van he will drive, work 12 hour shifts during which his movements will be reported by his tracker or ‘preciser’, and he will be treated as though he has no life outside work.

To get set up with the van, Ricky and his wife Abbie (Debbie Honeywood) must sell the car that she relies on for her work as a home-care nurse. She sees elderly clients who are difficult to manage, and now she has to take the bus. The upshot is a lot less family time with their teenage son Seb (Rhys Stone) and 11-year-old Liza Jane (Katie Proctor).

 in between sounding like a man and looking like a boy, Seb appears set to inherit his father’s disadvantage

This saddens Liza while it angers Seb. He skips even more school and spends even more time on his graffiti rounds. Of all the family members impacted by Ricky’s job, it is Seb’s plight that speaks the loudest. Caught in between sounding like a man and looking like a boy, Seb appears to be heading out of school without quals, and set to inherit his father’s disadvantage.

It’s a relief when the gloom and mounting tensions clear once in a while. With a family get-together over a takeaway curry when a vindaloo gets the better of Ricky, and when proud dad takes his daughter along on his delivery rounds. It is, however, only a temporary diversion with a trajectory primed from the start. There are few energising surprises for audiences here.

Were Loach to be anything other than true to his socialist worldview, we would be surprised, and he’s hit on a rich, new seam here with people like Ricky who are entrapped on the service economy roundabout. It also shows how, in a wider sense, workers with pride and aspiration can get crushed by an automated system which elides rights and entitlements, operates strictly by the book, and refuses to acknowledge that ‘service providers’ have a life and responsibilities outside work.

Sorry We Missed You has that blunt urgency Loach often displays, but his actors are very good, and with this forensic job on the system, he has made his point.

This review, first published in the Canberra Times on 31 December 2019, is also published on Jane's blog

• Featured image: a lighter moment for Ricky (Kris Hitchen) and daughter Liza Jane (Katie Proctor)