I remember when Ken Loach used to make films rich in symbolism which featured characters capable of moral ambiguity living thoughtfully crafted stories on the screen. Those were the days.
Unfortunately, in the already gargantuanly over-rated "I, Daniel Blake" we are treated to none of these things. With this film, Loach's desire to beat his message into viewers' heads has trumped all other considerations relating to the quality of the viewing experience.
The story revolves around the struggles of 59 year old Daniel Blake, a skilled workman recovering from poor health, as he attempts to claim benefits from the state. Along the way he befriends and helps single mother of two Katie, who is barely holding her family together in a new city.
The message that the director seems to want so very much for us all to understand is that the benefits system in Britain is designed, quite purposefully it would appear, to grind down those unfortunate enough to come across it. There's little room here even to consider that the system may be well-meaning but intrinsically flawed, so extreme is the position taken.
This wouldn't be such a problem if the film possessed other cinematic qualities, but these are in short supply as well.
Just like in real life, characters in the film can all be very easily separated into good, honest folk or nasty, hate-filled jobsworths. Loach's view seems to be that people who work with their hands must be alright, but heaven help you if you hang a tie around your neck and work with paper, or (cross yourselves) a computer - then you're probably the sort that would push your own grandma into the gutter if there was a quid in it for you.
The plot is very hastily pasted together, with very little regard to allowing the story to unfold satisfyingly or intelligently. Key moments in the plot just follow flatly one after the other as if story-boarding was ignored altogether. The script shows a similar need for attention, characters delivering narration-like dialogue as if they were reading aloud the notes in the script margin rather than the lines themselves. It also falls into near-embarrassing clichés like the emotionally-mature child-philosopher part that also smacks of lazy writing.
There are redeeming features. The cast, particularly Dave Johns in the lead role, give satisfying performances. Johns's lighter moments in the film are particularly well-delivered and the film is genuinely funny at times. But these flourishes don't make up for a very lazy film, both conceptually and in execution.
Unfortunately, in the already gargantuanly over-rated "I, Daniel Blake" we are treated to none of these things. With this film, Loach's desire to beat his message into viewers' heads has trumped all other considerations relating to the quality of the viewing experience.
The story revolves around the struggles of 59 year old Daniel Blake, a skilled workman recovering from poor health, as he attempts to claim benefits from the state. Along the way he befriends and helps single mother of two Katie, who is barely holding her family together in a new city.
The message that the director seems to want so very much for us all to understand is that the benefits system in Britain is designed, quite purposefully it would appear, to grind down those unfortunate enough to come across it. There's little room here even to consider that the system may be well-meaning but intrinsically flawed, so extreme is the position taken.
This wouldn't be such a problem if the film possessed other cinematic qualities, but these are in short supply as well.
Just like in real life, characters in the film can all be very easily separated into good, honest folk or nasty, hate-filled jobsworths. Loach's view seems to be that people who work with their hands must be alright, but heaven help you if you hang a tie around your neck and work with paper, or (cross yourselves) a computer - then you're probably the sort that would push your own grandma into the gutter if there was a quid in it for you.
The plot is very hastily pasted together, with very little regard to allowing the story to unfold satisfyingly or intelligently. Key moments in the plot just follow flatly one after the other as if story-boarding was ignored altogether. The script shows a similar need for attention, characters delivering narration-like dialogue as if they were reading aloud the notes in the script margin rather than the lines themselves. It also falls into near-embarrassing clichés like the emotionally-mature child-philosopher part that also smacks of lazy writing.
There are redeeming features. The cast, particularly Dave Johns in the lead role, give satisfying performances. Johns's lighter moments in the film are particularly well-delivered and the film is genuinely funny at times. But these flourishes don't make up for a very lazy film, both conceptually and in execution.