The Old Oak: Ken Loach's Bittersweet Swan Song

 

 

 

The Old Oak (2023/24)

Directed by Ken Loach

Zeitgeist Films, 114 minutes, Not Rated

★★★★★

 

The Old Oak will probably be the final film from 88-year-old British director Ken Loach. A lot of Loach’s films get limited distribution in the United States because Loach is an unrepentant radical socialist–so much so that he was booted from the British Labour Party for calling out its antisemitic leanings. Unlike U.S. politicians pandering for votes, Loach is an unabashed defender of working people. John Sayles is the only comparable American director who comes to mind.

 

The Old Oak is the name of a tavern in Northeast England ravaged by Margaret Thatcher’s mine closures during the 1980s. It is operated by Tommy Joe (“TJ”) Ballantine (Dave Turner) and is a place where a lot of old timers gather to bemoan the town’s downward slide and refight old battles like the 1984 miners’ strike. TJ causes a stir when he and local do-gooder Laura (Claire Rodgerson) help Syrian refugee families move into some of the town’s numerous empty flats. There’s nothing like newcomers to stir up localist and ethnocentric anger. A couple of toughs break the camera of Yara (Ebla Mari), the member of the Syrian group with a good command of English. Her determination to have those responsible replace her camera places the Syrians on a collision course between those displaced by war versus locals who want no part of them.

 

As so often the case, hate masks the reality that there is no turf to protect. TJ knows that the town–unnamed, but probably in County Durham–needs a miracle to revive it. He’s not sure how much longer he can keep The Old Oak open and tries to stay above the outrage, but refuses to be part of those who want to set up a meeting to discuss what to “do about” invaders from outside. This puts TJ at odds with old comrades, including Charlie (Trevor Fox) who has been a good mate for decades.  Although Yara and her mother are deeply interested in learning how to fit in and help the town, theirs is a difficult against-the-tide swim against racism and fear. So much so that when a tentative coming together experiment begins to prove successful, there remain those who would sabotage it.

 

Loach deftly confronts the gaps between the solidarity of yesteryear and broken dreams left in the wake of Thatcherism. In a nuanced touch, he uses his characters to question whether the defeated are using solidarity as if they were trapped in 1984 amber. Without spelling it out, Loach makes us question whether solidarity is supposed to be the passion of a moment, or the fuel that drives an ongoing social movement. If the latter, who are the insiders and who is an outside obstacle?

 

Subtle moves aside, Loach knows which side he’s on and isn’t afraid to advocate for it. Some of his films have had difficulty finding distribution as they were deemed propaganda. Yet, if you watch them–and you should–you can’t help but think that “propaganda” is frequently just a label that those who hold power use to discredit those who question the morality of their motives. As noted above, Loach is a champion  of working blue-collar families who live paycheck to paycheck (or dole check to dole check) and dream merely of “making do.” To use an old Quaker standard, Loach seeks to speak truth to power. In doing so, we turn our attention to those whose diminished dreams lead them into futile rearguard actions. Is this how anyone should live?

 

Another reason why Loach films often have short stays in theater is his insistence on  background authenticity. His characters assume local dialect and speech patterns. Some Loach films have been subtitled, even though everyone is speaking English. The Old Oak has a decided “Geordie” flavor, an accent common in and around Newcastle.  It has a few unfamiliar idioms, though they are not hard to unravel within context. The Geordie accent, though, is no more difficult to decipher than the upper crust speech of, say, Downton Abbey.

 

The Old Oak was much praised in Europe. Some Loach films are quite grim, but this one leaves us with both an enhanced analysis of social class and hope. It is a small slice of life that packs a wider and more powerful wallop.

 

Rob Weir