Loach seeks hopeful note in story of migrant friendship
In so many ways, TJ Ballantyne is a classic Ken Loach hero: a workingclass, middle-aged man trying to eke out a dignified living, but meeting obstacles at each turn — a victim of unforgiving social realities that leave people like him in the dust.
Like many of these Loach protagonists, TJ can’t get a break — even from gravity, as when he tries to fix the wooden letter “K” that rests above the Old Oak, the dilapidated pub he runs in a former mining town that has been in decline for decades. That letter keeps tilting downward, even when TJ fixes it with a broomstick. He turns away, and it simply falls again.
Loach has never been subtle with his messaging, and why should he start now? The 87-year-old director, who has made nearly 30 features, has said “The Old Oak” is likely his last. Assuming that’s true, the film is a poignant and moving coda to a career spent chronicling personal indignities amid broader social ills like poverty and unemployment.
Loach and screenwriter Paul Laverty address the migrant crisis through an unusual friendship between TJ (Dave Turner) and Yara (Ebla Mari), a young Syrian woman and refugee who ends up with her family in the town, to the hostility of many. In this story of two communities at odds, Loach seeks to end a trilogy of films set in northeastern England on a message of conciliation and hope.
We begin somewhere near Durham in 2016. Syrian war refugees have been arriving in Britain as they have elsewhere
in Europe, and it’s no surprise that some have been sent to a desolate former mining town where housing is dirt cheap.
In a devastating precredits sequence, the bus of refugees arrives to taunts from the townspeople, who say they weren’t even warned. “Who are they? Where are they from? More Muslims?” some shout out, profanities added. Others, like TJ and family friend Laura, try to help get the families settled.
Yara, who’s in her early 20s, has arrived with her mother. Her father, who is either imprisoned in Syria or dead, had gifted her with a camera, and she’s using it to document her arrival. An angry man in a football jersey tussles with her, and her camera drops to the ground, broken.
TJ’s only companion is a beloved former stray dog who appeared in his life at his darkest moment. A former miner himself, he’s holding onto his pub by the skin of his teeth. And now, some of the locals want to use his empty back room to hold a meeting and air grievances about the migrants. He makes excuses.
Further conflict ensues
when TJ agrees to use the back room for a far different purpose: to serve free meals, as a way of building community, and a throwback to solidarity during labor unrest decades earlier. This works beautifully for many, but the most negative voices in the town continue to sow discord and harass the Syrians, all while denying they are racist. “All we want is our pub back,” they say.
Worse is to come for the Old Oak, which essentially becomes the main character here: a connection to a happier past for the village, a key part of a troubled present, and a source of possible hope for a harmonious future.
And it is indeed hope that infuses the closing scenes, unlike many a Loach film. Yes, there are a few too many speeches that sound like, well, speeches rather than dialogue. And the resolution arrives just a bit too quickly and easily.
But these are forgivable sins. After nearly six decades of filmmaking, hope is not too bad a place to end up.
No MPA rating
Running time: 1:53
How to watch: In theaters