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.
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.