Free Web Site - Free Web Space and Site Hosting - Web Hosting - Internet Store and Ecommerce Solution Provider - High Speed Internet
Search the Web

.................... FILM SCENE ....................


MY NAME IS JOE (1998)
Directed By Ken Loach
Starring Peter Mullan, Louise Goodall

Film director Ken Loach has spent the last 30 years exploring the underbelly of British society. Undoubtedly, the most famous realist film maker, Loach's not so 'hidden agenda' is to affect social change by highlighting the plight of the displaced and the forgotten. Through films such as Cathy Come Home, Kes and Ladybird Ladybird, the director has striven to show ordinary people as they struggle against all pervasive forces of authority.

My Name is Joe threads familiar Loach territory: Joe (Peter Mullan) is a recovering alcoholic who fills his time by training a pathetically unsuccessful football team comprised of various junkies and misfits. He develops an unlikely relationship with health worker, Sarah (Louise Goodall), before inevitably destroying it, by becoming a drug courier in order to stop his smack- head, star striker having his legs broken by the local crimelord.

Unsurprisingly, Joe is opening a bottle of vodka as the film nears its (you guessed it) bleak, harrowing conclusion. There are moments of light relief, but then, you have to laugh, even when the only hope you have is a false one.

As always, Loach manages to bring out powerful performances from his cast of newcomers and unknowns, particularly Mullan who was named Best Actor at this years Cannes for his role in this film. The script by Paul Laverty is tighter than you'd expect from a Loach film, though a lot of the dialogue is indecipherable due to the thick Glasgow accents of the actors.

Words like 'warmth' and 'humanity' usually abound in reviews of Loach's films, but then they are normally written by middle class journalists for whom these 'realist' films can offer an easy way of exercising one's social conscience.

Not for a moment do I question Loach's motives, which are clearly genuine, but of the elitist audience his work attracts, it has to be asked: Are these films just an opportunity for a voyeuristic peek at how the other half live?

John Prendergast ©1998



Review Index