Another Year - Life's not always kind, is it?

(Mike Leigh, 2010)

Ah, Another Year, if ever there were a title ripe for mocking it would be Mike Leigh's accomplished , intimate and craftily assembled drama about the slow movement of time, the disappointments, the assembly of those nearest and dearest, the aching chasm of life not turning out as you hoped and the relentless way every year folds into the next. The minutiae of everyday pointless chit-chat (the workings of a car engine, the weather, how the allotment is doing...) whilst drinking tea from a flask or around the family kitchen table; the lamentations about missed opportunities, dreams of new possibilities, the planning of holidays, the nostalgia of old photos, is of course Mike Leigh's bread and butter, the little things said/unsaid which carry more weight than at first glance.

It's this detail to the mundane that stoke the fire of his detractors, that mocking group who fail to grasp this attention to the little things, who will view Another Year as Another Mike Leigh film, which to do, I think, is to miss one of his quietest yet boldest films to date.  To temper the pain, the loneliness, the quiet resentment for the life that fate has dealt, Another Year has at its nucleus a happy, solid and loving married couple in the guise of Tom (Jim Broadbent) and Gerri (Ruth Sheen); another of those thrown away witticisms that Leigh is want to do to juxtapose with the all too serious surroundings.  With their home acting as a safe zone, Another Year has a grounded turf for which those encircling Tom and Gerri's contented lives, friends and family, who's lives are less self-assured, have somewhere to rest before walking out into that world again.

So far, so common territory for Mike Leigh; after all Leigh is not known for his wide departures form the themes and worlds he helps to create in workshops with his ensemble cast, but there is a grounding here, in character, in tone, in pacing that hasn't always been present and, (has it come with age?), Another Year is all the more bewitching for it.  The sensation of the film sneaks up on you, from the oust we're given a haunting, tight-lipped, anxiety filled cameo from another Leigh stalwart, Imelda Staunton, playing out Another Year's key theme, that of middle aged depression - "on a scale of 1 to 10, how happy would say you are?" asks Gerri, in her role as a medical counsellor, "one" comes the curt reply.  There is something uniquely Leigh about this scene, who else would decide to open a film thus?, and its bluntness sets the tone for this involving, intelligent and compassionate drama.

Of those surrounding the world Tom and Gerri is an array of characters in desperate need of something equating stability, guidance and compassion; there's a hope of whatever Tom and Gerri have got may just rub off on them.  Amongst the gallery is Ken (Peter Wight) Tom's old friend from his childhood home of Hull, who's reliance on booze, food and cigarettes to numb his life seems certain to shorten it. Ronnie (David Bradley), Tom's older, now widowed brother, who's mute, lifeless presence speaks volumes for a life missing a heartbeat and then there's Mary in what turns out to be the films stand out performance by Lesley Manville, a tidal wave of a wreck, a guiding beacon for all those that make wrong decisions and take the wrong exits of the motorway of life. Add Joe (Oliver Maltman), Tom and Gerri's son, who seems to have inherited his dad's sarcastic relaxed look at the world, who doesn't worry his parents in the slightest that he's still not married at the turn of 30.

 

While the film chapters the seasons, each segment beginning with a laconic, well framed shot by cinematography Dick Pope over Tom and Gerri's beloved allotment, we observe this dynamic over the year, how it works, doesn't work, infests, feeds and collaborates, how lives are governed and relationships fostered by the choices we make or by the chances we ignore.   Through Tom and Gerri's contentment we see how easy it is to find yourself on the other side, Mary's wild and out of control mania becomes Another Year's defining tragedy, hopelessly bounding from one mistake to the next; her infatuation with Tom and Gerri's son, Joe, in another misleading attempt to bound herself to the comforts of their world, leads to a scene so excruciatingly embarrassing that you'll be hard pressed to make it through the scene without gritting your teeth.

No scene better conflicts with Tom and Gerri's world than the funeral of Ronnie's late wife back in Lancashire, whereas Tom is assured, comfortable and alive with possibilities, Ronnie and that of his bitter son, Carl (Martin Savage) are dormant, stifled and estranged.  Ronnie just stares as his son throws accusations and insinuations at him during the wake, it's left to Tom to fight back, Ronnie having given in years ago.  It's a truly violent scene in terms of what has gone before, whilst at once being extremely moving; the masked tears in Ronnie's eyes, Tom's attempts to control and temper the situation, Gerri's insistence that there is plenty of food and the lack of people at the wake.  It's one of those scenes that Leigh may have been inclined to have gone bigger in the past, (see Timothy Spall's outburst in Secret & Lies or Eddie Marsan's breakdown in Happy-Go-Lucky), here, in keeping with the film, it's grounded, controlled and any sort of resolution is quickly forgotten.

This is a new benchmark for Leigh, and let's admit it the benchmark was pretty high to begin with, Another Year is a small slice of a realised, observed world, better than he has done before.  There are times in the past where caricature would overtake character, where shrill voices and diluted worlds didn't quite fit, Another Year feels casual in comparison with say Secret & Lies or All or Nothing, this is a restrained jewel from a director, at the tender age of 67, who seems to have crafted his most complete film yet.

So Another Mike Leigh film then?  Oh, most definitely, and they try and make that sound like a bad thing.