Dir/Co-Wri Clio Barnard | UK Drama 110′ 2026
This new drama from Clio Barnard kicks off with a rowdy birthday bash — all neon glare and bad decisions — plunging us straight into the bruised, backwater edges of Birmingham, where dereliction and petty crime have long since replaced any notion of civic pride. Forget the social veneer that was once represented by library vans: there are still Fray Bentos dinners; but this working class milieu is now sustained by booze, bravado, and the brittle bonds of a tight-knit group of childhood friends clinging to each other as much as to the illusion of upward mobility.
At the centre is Patrick (Anthony Boyle), who works as food delivery driver and whose quiet decency sets him apart from his peers – he’s the social glue that keeps the group together. Orbiting round him are Shaun, Olly, and a rogues’ gallery of men trying — and often failing — to outrun their circumstances. Olly, initially a morally bankrupt drug dealer who steals a terrier without a second thought, becomes one of the film’s more surprising pivots, stumbling toward redemption through the building trade that keeps him grounded. The others chase success in the boom, construction, stock trading, grasping at legitimacy while never quite shaking off their modest origins.
The film is laced with a simmering resentment toward the system. Its anti-capitalist undercurrent isn’t subtle: housing is framed as a social good gutted by profiteering, and the characters bristle at the notion of wealth trickling down from the rich. Yet there’s a flicker of pride — even triumph — in those who feel they’ve “reached the other side,” however precarious that position may be.
Spring arrives, softening the film’s industrial backcloth with a blanket of green, and the action shifts to London. Here, in soulless “young professional” flats, the group attempts to evolve. Connor’s partner gives birth, hinting at a positive future, maybe even hope. But old habits die hard. Joel Coel’s character — a property chancer flush with cash and a Bentley, but utterly devoid of emotional intelligence, implodes spectacularly, torching his relationship with a posh girlfriend before spiralling into a haze of cocaine and alcohol.
What elevates this beyond kitchen-sink cliché is the writing and the charisma of the cast. The characters feel lived-in, contradictory, real. It’s proof that strong script writing still matters in these days of atmosphere and visuals. Patrick, in particular, emerges the standout, he’s a man trying to navigate betrayal (his partner’s infidelity cuts deep) without losing his moral footing. He’s surrounded by mates who too often dodge accountability, leaving you to wonder: where is the moral integrity here? Just because you’re poor and working class, doesn’t mean you have to go off the rails.
Interestingly, it’s the women who provide it. While the men posture and unravel, the women quietly get on with things: working, parenting, pushing forward. Their resilience offers a counterpoint that the film never overstates but always honours.
Visually and thematically, the recurring image of the ‘Lea Green Tower’ block demolition becomes a potent motif — a symbol of both destruction and renewal, of communities erased and futures uncertain. The narrative arc itself is subtle almost to the point of invisibility, but that restraint works in its favour. Life doesn’t always build to neat finales, and neither does this.
Think of it as a feature-length slice of social realism akin to Coronation Street, but with sharper teeth, richer texture, and far more narrative ambition. It’s raw, honest, and emotionally heartfelt, capturing the fragile tightrope we all walk between survival and self-destruction.
SCREENING AT CANNES FILM FESTIVAL 2026 | DIRECTORS’ FORTNIGHT