Review: The Angels’ Share (2012)
Cast: Paul Brannigan, John Henshaw, Gary Maitland
Director: Ken Loach
Country: UK | France | Belgium | Italy
Genre: Comedy | Drama
Official Trailer: Here
Editor’s Notes: The Angels’ Share opens in limited release tomorrow, April 12th. If you’ve already seen the film we’d love to hear your thoughts on it, or if you’re looking forward to seeing it this weekend, please tell us in the comments section below or in our new Next Projection Forums.
As though we could have forgotten, Ken Loach’s abrasive statement this week in the wake of Margaret Thatcher’s death serves to remind us just how fastidiously the director has remained aligned to the plight of the working class throughout his career. One of the most famed of Britain’s social realists, he has steadily improved his craft since his first major impact in 1969’s Kes but has rarely strayed from that unashamedly leftist perspective. His latest is no different: a Scottish-set tale of a new young father sentenced to community service for assault, The Angels’ Share delights in transplanting its colourful cast of characters to the scene of a rare whiskey auction when they visit a highland distillery.
It’s a great strength of Laverty as a writer to build character through the nuances and eccentricities of speech; his dialogue is as a poetry of the streets, filling the mouths of these working-class heroes with a distinct rhythm and wit that’s every bit as entertaining as the antics in which they find themselves involved.
Teaming with Loach for the twelfth time, screenwriter Paul Laverty pens a script of comedic warmth that directs the pair back toward the territory of 2009’s Looking for Eric. That was a film that found in its protagonist an immense sadness buried beneath layers of whimsy; Robbie, the hero of The Angels’ Share, is a less sympathetic figure, though one whom Laverty and Loach surround with no less humour. It’s a great strength of Laverty as a writer to build character through the nuances and eccentricities of speech; his dialogue is as a poetry of the streets, filling the mouths of these working-class heroes with a distinct rhythm and wit that’s every bit as entertaining as the antics in which they find themselves involved. Though casting his story primarily in a comedic mold, he is no less intent—nor any less successful—in aligning our sympathies with the fate of Robbie.
It’s more of an achievement than it might sound: repentant though he is in the film’s opening sentencing scene, Robbie’s crime is as unconscionable as it is undeniable. In lesser hands his pregnant girlfriend would form the basis of his redemption in the audience’s eyes; not in those of Loach and Laverty, who use their comedy as a gentle buffer to push us toward a caustic dramatic confrontation that’s as remarkable a feat of filmmaking as it is a masterful manipulation—and I use that word free of negative connotation—of human empathy. Confronted by the mother of the man whose life he has considerably worsened, Robbie is faced—not undeservedly—with the grim consequences of his actions. Combined, the harsh ferocity Laverty’s language here adopts and the magnificent framing and focus of Loach’s shots refuse us the comfort of sitting on the fence. They force us to judge Robbie one way or the other; the true testament to their skill is that they’ve really only left us one option.
Always one to gather an impressive ensemble, rarely—if indeed ever—working with big names, Loach here recruits a wonderful pool of talent. Non-actor Paul Brannigan is a perfect fit for Robbie, having himself undergone a similar path through life.
Of course, this scene—and indeed the film at large—could not be half so impactful without the input of its cast. Always one to gather an impressive ensemble, rarely—if indeed ever—working with big names, Loach here recruits a wonderful pool of talent. Non-actor Paul Brannigan is a perfect fit for Robbie, having himself undergone a similar path through life. His character’s redemption story is as much his: a BAFTA win and further film roles have followed this career-making turn. He transpires to not need it, but firm support is available from Loach regular John Henshaw, a terrific actor whose every scene is a highlight. As are those of Roger Allam, a typically commanding presence whose initially minor role only grows in stature as the narrative progresses.
The revelation of that role’s significance coincides with a strange, if not entirely surprising, change of direction for the story, turning the film away from its social realist roots and gearing it more toward classic comic caper in the Ealing vein, albeit with a distinctly Scottish twist. The Angels’ Share exists so long as a precise character study that it’s a little odd, perhaps even slightly disappointing, to see it suddenly decide to employ broader narrative strokes. Still, Laverty is such a skilled storyteller, and Loach so attuned to pairing that vision with his own, that the divergent third act only serves to bear enticing new fruits of its own. As tonally deft as ever, these are filmmakers who—even when deciding to change the rules late in the game—play it like pros.
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