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Can we talk? Everybody is pretty well agreed that Great Britain's Ken Loach is one of our most important filmmakers. On the basis of his work with actors alone--often actors who are unknown until showcased in his films--he commands a place in the modern Pantheon. The problem is that he
sounds terminally "worthy"; his films invariably reflect a commitment to framing harsh sociopolitical realities and steeping us in the fight for justice, a square deal, or a square meal. They sound, in short, as if they're "good for you"--whereas the fact is that they're almost always damned
good, period.
My Name Is Joe makes for an excellent introduction to Loach country--partly because it's just a tad more immediate in its basic viewer appeal. Joe Kavanagh (Peter Mullan), out-of-work Glasgow housepainter, is a terrifically attractive fellow, and though he's also a recovering alcoholic, he seems eminently pulled-together and ready for yeoman service as a movie leading man. The main story line concerns his encounter with and growing attraction to a smart social worker (Louise Goodall). There's nothing star-crossed about their potential love, but each is tough enough to set limits till they've traveled over a distance of mutual ground. Meanwhile, Joe's status as role model among his more emotionally and economically precarious neighbors--an extended family of man--is good for a surprising number of lusty laughs and one fatal, criminal complication that could jeopardize his future. Peter Mullan won a well-deserved Best Actor award at Cannes in 1998, and subsequently directed a family comedy-drama of his own, Orphans. --Richard T. Jameson
Joe (Peter Mullan), the hero of Ken Loach's funny and excoriating new movie, starts by announcing that he is on the wagon. This being Loach, you can be fairly certain that Joe will spend the next ninety minutes falling off it again, and, sure enough, he winds up in a foul blur of booze. What comes in between-and, in a terrible way, sets him back on the path of self-destruction-is a love affair. This unemployed Glaswegian meets a health worker called Sarah (Louise Goodall), who appears to offer him a better sort of life. But his old habits and connections die hard, and Mullan's combative, unsentimental performance makes Joe's slow ruin not just credible but unavoidable. Whether the maddened high drama of the climax rings equally true is another matter; Loach's talent for small pleasures and crackling provincial gags has always been more winning than his determination to be a tragedian, let alone a political soothsayer. -Anthony Lane
Copyright © 2006
The New Yorker
