The movie centers on Daniel Blake (Dave Johns), a 59-year-old widowed carpenter who must struggle to navigate the bureaucracy of the British benefits system after an injury leaves him unable to work.
An emotionally powerful dissection of a nightmarish system tips into unnecessary polemic, falling short of the state of a nation piece it could have been.
Sounds a bit dry? I, Daniel Blake is anything but, British humour being the indefatigable thing that it is, especially the finely tuned sarcasm of the eternally depressed north.
In the end, the title, seemingly unremarkable, reveals itself as especially poignant. Daniel is crying out for recognition as an "I" -- even if he can't contribute, even if he needs help for a while.
This new Ken Loach landmark sums up everything that has kept his muckraking motor running for decades. An old-school social realist, the 80-year-old filmmaker again speaks up for the exploited lower classes,
Loach's downtrodden heroes usually find some way to sustain hope, in family or in humor, in individual ingenuity or collective kindness. But this time, the filmmaker's own anger at systemic, interminable inequities threatens to overcome his optimism.
