The Old Oak

The final scene of “The Old Oak” reduced me, once again and for the final time, to tears.

It is unmistakably a Loach film: taciturn yet forthright, examining life in the cracks of a fractured society with deep compassion, plain-spoken anger and, perhaps more so than in the previous two films, a shot of hope.

It’s a fable that ties up too neatly to be believed, and it’s a story I’m tired of hearing.

Like with all Ken Loach films, reality is at the center of it.

It’s a righteous oeuvre with marvelously strong roots.

A fine send-off for workhorse British director Ken Loach, this film is a sort of proudly unsexy piece of social realism portraiture whose delicate blend of poignancy and hopefulness mark it as a welcomely mature work for the remaining cineastes who care.

If this is to be Loach's last film, then it's a fine one to end with.

Like fellow English filmmakers of the same generation, Loach’s refined cinematic skills across twenty-six features should not be overlooked: passion, and compassion, are part of every element of his work. [Loach] is ever hopeful

Socialism is everywhere you look.

Paved streets, street lights, bridges, plumbing and running water, are all socialist constructs.

Getting your head out of your ass is just the first step toward a better world.

"The Old Oak" is a fine place to start.

Using the power of photography to create a bridge between people with quite different life experiences is probably the most subtle thing in Paul Laverty’s screenplay, which is otherwise from the “subtext is for cowards” school of writing.