A decade or so ago, the rumour was that Ken Loach was getting ready to quit. Then began a new parade of Conservative prime ministers in this country, each shiftier and more mediocre than the last; Loach decided he had more to say and do after all. What followed was a blaze of energy, anger and productivity culminating in a remarkable late surge – in fact, a trilogy, of which this might come to be seen as the final episode. Working with his regular collaborator, the screenwriter Paul Laverty, Loach has been taking on issues and stories that you don’t see on the TV news or on glitzy streaming services, and showed that film-makers could actually intervene in the real world. Loach got questions about poverty and austerity asked in parliament; he moved the dial.
Loach has also sought out the painful and unfashionable subjects, marching to where the gunfire has been loudest. With I, Daniel Blake it was the vivisectional experiment of austerity; with Sorry We Missed You it was the serfdom of the gig economy. Now, in The Old Oak, it is that ugly phenomenon from which London’s liberal classes have turned away in sorrowing distaste: refugees housed in hostels all over the UK who are being abused and attacked by local people radicalised by social media.
