One of Ken Loach's most accessible and poignant films that follows the fortunes of a group of track workers as the privatisation of British Rail takes effect. When the workers get their new working brief - the company's 'Mission Statement', 'performance-related pay' and unpaid holidays seem like a joke. Before long, the workers are forced to make a very clear 'choice' to take their chances with the redundancy pay-off and life as casual agency workers, or toe the line and work for the new company under new rules. Forced to cut corners, a tragic accident seems inevitable.
"The rail network" used to mean the stretches of track which connected community to community across Britain. Nowadays, that word "network" has been co-opted by the co... more >
"The rail network" used to mean the stretches of track which connected community to community across Britain. Nowadays, that word "network" has been co-opted by the corporations of this world, those who would make personal profit from professional gain.
An early scene in Ken Loach’s tale of life under Railtrack has the manual labourers of the title briefed by a manager who struggles - much to the navigators’ amusement - to come to terms with the empty corporate rhetoric imposed upon him. The bustling depot shown at the start of the film is soon decimated by the insane paranoia that comes with a "watch your back" culture; we see how it feeds down from company men who see themselves as God paying "visits from above" to managers who have been stranded, caught between existing promises to their workers and the unreasonable demands of their employers. And then there are the workers, who feel as though they’re at the bottom of the food chain, for whom all agreements - all prior understandings between bosses and workers - have been rendered meaningless. For people who have always said what they mean and meant what they say, this is unspeakable.
The scenes in and around the workplace are so strong that you almost don’t need the domestic episodes, but the script, performances and direction have the knack of making all drama look simple to accomplish if complex in its implications. After a trilogy of films (Land & Freedom, Carla’s Song, Bread And Roses) finding political conflict in the Americas, Loach makes a potent return to these shores, and to the classic British humour-in-the-face-of-adversity familiar from Riff-Raff and Raining Stones. The navigators themselves are a funny, bantering team, and Loach knows that any tears on offer will be all the more stinging if they come at the end of a genuine laugh.
He leaves us with a series of agonising decisions faced by people who work, and the quandary of what happens to them when, for whatever reason, they can work no longer. It’s a film clear-eyed about the lies these structures demand, and about the lies which they perpetuate; and it’s a film which knows our workers - all of them, not just the navigators - are getting rail-roaded, that plenty more people are going to get hurt unless things change, and fast.
"The rail network" used to mean the stretches of track which connected community to community across Britain. Nowadays, that word "network" has been co-opted by the co... more >
"The rail network" used to mean the stretches of track which connected community to community across Britain. Nowadays, that word "network" has been co-opted by the corporations of this world, those who would make personal profit from professional gain.
An early scene in Ken Loach’s tale of life under Railtrack has the manual labourers of the title briefed by a manager who struggles - much to the navigators’ amusement - to come to terms with the empty corporate rhetoric imposed upon him. The bustling depot shown at the start of the film is soon decimated by the insane paranoia that comes with a "watch your back" culture; we see how it feeds down from company men who see themselves as God paying "visits from above" to managers who have been stranded, caught between existing promises to their workers and the unreasonable demands of their employers. And then there are the workers, who feel as though they’re at the bottom of the food chain, for whom all agreements - all prior understandings between bosses and workers - have been rendered meaningless. For people who have always said what they mean and meant what they say, this is unspeakable.
The scenes in and around the workplace are so strong that you almost don’t need the domestic episodes, but the script, performances and direction have the knack of making all drama look simple to accomplish if complex in its implications. After a trilogy of films (Land & Freedom, Carla’s Song, Bread And Roses) finding political conflict in the Americas, Loach makes a potent return to these shores, and to the classic British humour-in-the-face-of-adversity familiar from Riff-Raff and Raining Stones. The navigators themselves are a funny, bantering team, and Loach knows that any tears on offer will be all the more stinging if they come at the end of a genuine laugh.
He leaves us with a series of agonising decisions faced by people who work, and the quandary of what happens to them when, for whatever reason, they can work no longer. It’s a film clear-eyed about the lies these structures demand, and about the lies which they perpetuate; and it’s a film which knows our workers - all of them, not just the navigators - are getting rail-roaded, that plenty more people are going to get hurt unless things change, and fast.
"The rail network" used to mean the stretches of track which connected community to community across Britain. Nowadays, that word "network" has been co-opted by the co... more >
"The rail network" used to mean the stretches of track which connected community to community across Britain. Nowadays, that word "network" has been co-opted by the corporations of this world, those who would make personal profit from professional gain.
An early scene in Ken Loach’s tale of life under Railtrack has the manual labourers of the title briefed by a manager who struggles - much to the navigators’ amusement - to come to terms with the empty corporate rhetoric imposed upon him. The bustling depot shown at the start of the film is soon decimated by the insane paranoia that comes with a "watch your back" culture; we see how it feeds down from company men who see themselves as God paying "visits from above" to managers who have been stranded, caught between existing promises to their workers and the unreasonable demands of their employers. And then there are the workers, who feel as though they’re at the bottom of the food chain, for whom all agreements - all prior understandings between bosses and workers - have been rendered meaningless. For people who have always said what they mean and meant what they say, this is unspeakable.
The scenes in and around the workplace are so strong that you almost don’t need the domestic episodes, but the script, performances and direction have the knack of making all drama look simple to accomplish if complex in its implications. After a trilogy of films (Land & Freedom, Carla’s Song, Bread And Roses) finding political conflict in the Americas, Loach makes a potent return to these shores, and to the classic British humour-in-the-face-of-adversity familiar from Riff-Raff and Raining Stones. The navigators themselves are a funny, bantering team, and Loach knows that any tears on offer will be all the more stinging if they come at the end of a genuine laugh.
He leaves us with a series of agonising decisions faced by people who work, and the quandary of what happens to them when, for whatever reason, they can work no longer. It’s a film clear-eyed about the lies these structures demand, and about the lies which they perpetuate; and it’s a film which knows our workers - all of them, not just the navigators - are getting rail-roaded, that plenty more people are going to get hurt unless things change, and fast.
