When it comes to the fiercely political British director Ken Loach’s latest film, “The Old Oak,” a bit of classic Hollywood promotional language comes to mind: Ken Loach is “The Old Oak.” Because seemingly forever, the sturdiest, tallest figure in the cinema of working-class struggle has been Loach, the man behind such raw, forthright classics as “Kes,” “Riff-Raff,” “The Wind That Shakes the Barley,” “I, Daniel Blake” and “Sorry We Missed You.”
If this is the final round for the 87-year-old filmmaker, he’s going out with a protest sign in one hand and a pint in the other. That’s because “The Old Oak,” written by longtime collaborator Paul Laverty and named for the last remaining pub in a downtrodden town in northeast England, shows Loach no less committed to the cause but also as faith-filled as he’s ever been.
It’s 2016 when we enter the story via black-and-white photographs of a busload of displaced Syrians, mostly mothers, children and the elderly, being dropped off in the mining town of Durham, the film’s audio dominated by locals loudly and bigotedly condemning their arrival. When the film itself starts (and cinematographer Robbie Ryan’s clean naturalism takes over), we learn that the refugee documenting everything is a young woman named Yara (Ebla Mari), whose first interaction is with a brutish man who violently grabs her camera and breaks it.
One of the aid helpers appalled at his townsfolk’s behavior is divorced, middle-aged pub owner TJ (an affecting Dave Turner), a lonely man with a good heart and a lot of hurt. He offers to help get Yara’s camera repaired and the unlikely pair strike up a friendship borne of mutual empathy for each other’s pain: her homeland and family brutalized by war; his once-thriving community battered by economic neglect and a poisoning fear. The latter is routinely manifested in the churlish Old Oak regulars for whom nostalgia-fueled resentment is no longer a condition to be changed but a disturbingly snug set of clothes; they view TJ’s kindness toward Yara (or anybody’s charity toward the Syrians) as a betrayal.
Dave Turner in the movie “The Old Oak.”
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(Zeitgeist Films)
But on the walls of the threadbare pub’s long-shuttered backroom is photographic evidence — a reminder to TJ, an inspiring history for Yara — of the country’s 1984 miners’ strike, when an embattled people looked out for one another. Soon enough, TJ is spearheading a revitalization of the room so two struggling worlds can meet: communal dinners to feed both the refugees and a deprived town’s isolated youth. As things play out, however, Loach and Laverty are realistic enough in their tale of invigorating compassion to grasp that, as difficult as it is to find and nurture hope, just as essential is recognizing the danger lurking in festering grievance.
As vitally angry as Loach’s films can often be about the issues they’re addressing, the secret glue to his unvarnished, in-the-moment style has always been what camaraderie and care look like within any maelstrom of injustice and oppression. The authenticity of his casting, including his unwavering belief in newcomers, is flawless here, with Mari’s portrait of resilience sharing the frame wonderfully with Turner’s bearish, wounded air. And in a key role as a pub regular, Trevor Fox makes palpable the injury and distrust that can warp an honest reaction to a stranger’s struggles.
Loach is the rare movie agitator who can point to results. In 1966, his television film “Cathy Come Home” rattled the U.K. into acting on homelessness. We may be too inured these days to the unceasing drumbeat of immigration’s realities and disinformation to expect “The Old Oak,” as deeply emotional as it is, to have a similar impact. But we can still feel thankful for this beautifully indignant director’s career-long, never-wavering theme of solidarity, of seeing others’ problems as ours too, worth striking about and fighting against. It’s a righteous oeuvre with marvelously strong roots.
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‘The Old Oak’
Not rated
In English with English subtitles (due to strong regional accents)
Forget the “video game movie” curse;The Mortuary Assistantis a bone-chilling triumph that stands entirely on its own two feet. Starring Willa Holland (Arrow) as Rebecca Owens, the film follows a newly certified mortician whose “overtime shift” quickly devolves into a grueling battle for her soul.
What Makes It Work
The film expertly balances the stomach-churning procedural work of embalming with a spiraling demonic nightmare. Alongside a mysterious mentor played by Paul Sparks (Boardwalk Empire), Rebecca is forced to confront both ancient evils and her own buried traumas. And boy, does she have a lot of them.
Thanks to a full-scale, practical River Fields Mortuary set, the film drips with realism, like you can almost smell the rot and bloat of the bodies through the screen.
The skin effects are hauntingly accurate. The way the flesh moves during surgical scenes is so visceral. I’ve seen a lot of flesh wounds in horror films and in real life, and the bodies, skin, and organs. The Mortuary Assistant (especially in the opening scene) looks so real that I skipped supper after watching it. And that’s saying something. Your girl likes to eat.
Co-written by the game’s creator, Brian Clarke, the movie dives deeper into the demonic mythology. Whether you’ve seen every ending or don’t know a scalpel from a trocar, the story is perfectly self-contained. If you’ve never played the game, or played it a hundred times, the film works equally well, which is hard to do when it comes to game adaptations.
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Nailed It
This film does a lot of things right, but the isolation of the night shift is suffocating. Between the darkness of the hallways and the “residents” that refuse to stay still, the film delivers a relentlessly immersive experience. And thankfully, although this movie is filled with dark rooms and shadows, it’s easy to see every little thing. Don’t you hate it when a movie is so dark that you can’t see what’s happening? It’s one of my pet peeves.
The oh-so-awesome Jeremiah Kipp directs the film and has made something absolutely nightmare-inducing. Kipp recently joined us for an interview, took us inside the film, discussed its details and the game’s lore, and so much more. I urge you to check out our interview. He’s awesome!
The Verdict
This isn’t just a cash-grab; it’s a high-effort adaptation that respects the source material while elevating the horror genre. With incredible special effects and a powerhouse cast, it’s the kind of movie that will make you rethink working late ever again. Dropping on Friday the 13th, this is a must-watch for horror fans. It’s grisly, intelligent, and genuinely terrifying.
A former executive at Live Nation, the world’s largest live entertainment company, is suing the company, alleging that he was wrongfully terminated after he raised concerns about alleged financial misconduct and improper accounting practices.
Nicholas Rumanes alleges he was “fraudulently induced” in 2022 to leave a lucrative position as head of strategic development at a real estate investment trust to create a new role as executive vice president of development and business practice at Beverly Hills-based Live Nation.
In his new position, Rumanes said, he raised “serious and legitimate alarm” over the the company’s business practices.
As a result, he says, he was “unlawfully terminated,” according to the lawsuit filed Thursday in Los Angeles County Superior Court.
“Rumanes was, simply put, promised one job and forced to accept another. And then he was cut loose for insisting on doing that lesser job with integrity and honesty,” according to the lawsuit.
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He is seeking $35 million in damages.
Representatives for Live Nation were not immediately available for comment.
The lawsuit comes a week after a federal jury in Manhattan found that Live Nation and its Ticketmaster subsidiary had operated a monopoly over major concert venues, controlling 86% of the concert market.
Rumanes’ lawsuit describes a “culture of deception” at Live Nation, saying its “basic business model was to misstate and exaggerate financial figures in efforts to solicit and secure business.”
Such practices “spanned a wide spectrum of projects in what appeared to be a company-wide pattern of financial misrepresentation and misleading disclosures,” the lawsuit states.
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Rumanes says he received materials and documents that showed that the company inflated projected revenues across multiple venue development projects.
Additionally, Rumanes contends that the company violated a federal law that requires independent financial auditing and transparency and instead ran Live Nation “through a centralized, opaque structure” that enables it to “bypass oversight and internal checks and balances.”
In 2010, as a condition of the Live Nation-Ticketmaster merger, the newly formed company agreed to a consent decree with the government that prohibited the firm from threatening venues to use Ticketmaster. In 2019 the Justice Department found that the company had repeatedly breached the agreement, and it extended the decree.
Rumanes contends that he brought his concerns to the attention of the company’s management, but his warnings were “repeatedly ignored.”
At the centre of Madhuvidhu directed by Vishnu Aravind is a house where only men reside, three generations of them living in harmony. Unlike the Anjooran household in Godfather, this is not a house where entry is banned to women, but just that women don’t choose to come here. For Amrithraj alias Ammu (Sharafudheen), the protagonist, 28 marriage proposals have already fallen through although he was not lacking in interest.
When a not-so-cordial first meeting with Sneha (Kalyani Panicker) inevitably turns into mutual attraction, things appear about to change. But some unexpected hiccups are waiting for them, their different religions being one of them. Writers Jai Vishnu and Bipin Mohan do not seem to have any major ambitions with Madhuvidhu, but they seem rather content to aim for the middle space of a feel-good entertainer. Only that they end up hitting further lower.
