I, Daniel Blake.

For the first two-thirds of I, Daniel Blake, this is a well-observed portrait of the dehumanising effect of 'the system'. Anybody who has had to deal with state bodies will find several scenes here frustratingly familiar - the maddening hold music, the dystopian bureaucracy, the nonsense language, that constant sense you're a stat more than a person. There's a genuineness to the portrayal here that sets it apart, as well as a fundamental empathy and humanity. There's nothing special about the filmmaking here - although that's sort of the point, it being pure social realism (although there were a handful of IMO clearly missed opportunities for more poetic shots) - but the messages and performances more than carry it along.

Then comes the sledgehammer.

It has been a while since the third act of a film left such a sour taste for me. Loach and Laverty adopt a brute force approach that removes any capacity for nuance, using cheap and unconvincing dramatic shortcuts to overstate themes that were already clearly explored. Several clunky speeches reaffirm the film's messages in the bluntest possible terms, and even as someone who absolutely sympathises with them the complete lack of subtlety really irritated me. I don't like the phrase misery porn, but my god I think this film's finest act does its darnedest to earn the label.

Which is such a shame, because there's an ever urgent core to this film which is near impossible to dismiss. There's worthwhile stuff here, but it gets lost in some fairly insipid filmmaking and screenwriting. Definitely see how this winning the Palme d'Or over Toni Erdmann raised some eyebrows. For all Loach's justified critiques of the conservative nature of British cinema, this sadly could do with being rather more radical itself.