‘To Leslie’ and the problem with modern working-class depictions in cinema and TV
We’re living in an age of austerity. A string of once-in-a-lifetime recessions have had a profound impact on the economy, at least for the poor. This disparity between those affected and those continuing to thrive has naturally been reflected in the cinema and TV of the era as writers and directors look to satirically encapsulate the times.
‘To Leslie’ and the problem with modern working-class depictions in cinema and TV
MON 13TH FEB 2023 20.30 GMT
We’re living in an age of austerity. A string of once-in-a-lifetime recessions have had a profound impact on the economy, at least for the poor. This disparity between those affected and those continuing to thrive has naturally been reflected in the cinema and TV of the era as writers and directors look to satirically encapsulate the times. The problem is that it often ends up encapsulating the most obvious face of apparent social deprivation that middle-class creatives think the working-class face.
Most so-called working-class dramas these days feature a single mother who is positively suicidal, a heroin addict, a flustered person in a pair of marigolds trying to do seven things at once before screaming at the decaying walls of their grey council flat, and coppers way passed caring. On the other hand, what they don’t feature is a single laugh, any sign of bright-side defiance, a semblance of collectivist beauty, or the nuance of what the impacts of austerity actually look like for most people.
We are not sat around wallowing in shit and tending to smack addicted kids who fleeting come into our lives for poetic reverence but prove too tricky to place within the main plot. Sure, this level of tragic woe does exist within the working-class masses, but it does not define the situation, and it certainly doesn’t typify it. By focusing on this false facsimile, many cinematic outings and TV shows are doing a disservice to the current situation, and the quality of realist entertainment in general.
Take, for instance, Shane Meadows’ organic depiction in Somers Town. This 70-minute masterpiece features a homeless boy and a struggling immigrant trying to survive the manic ways of London with a smile. It’s hilarious, heart-warming and true. At no point does a preying paedophile or drug runner corrupt the story—it’s already clear that their circumstance hurls them into relative hardship, but that doesn’t stop them from having a wholesome friendship and helping each other through things.
This is not a new phenomenon; 1941’s Sullivan’s Travels – one of the greatest and most seminal screenplays ever written – tells the story of a wealthy big-hit director trying to do away with the commercial films he usually crafts to offer up a true tale of the man on the street, only to find out that the man on the street actually likes his hopeful soppy tales. In charting this venture, this original epic manages to be cognizant of the times without self-indulgently relishing the despair.
Of course, we don’t just want happy-clappy fodder that turns a blind eye to our plight, but the endless stream of dead kid dramas and drunken mums is like being waterboarded by an Eton defector’s wet dream secretions. And worst of all, it seems like a cash-in. Austerity is being played as a shortcut to emotional resonance or the Oscar-baiting technique of ‘going ugly’. Surely there’s much more Bicycle Thieves-esque poetry and true-to-life universality in a parent hoping to avoid having to do overtime this weekend so they can watch their kid play football?
But nada, the bulk of it provides the blunt bludgeon of the hardest struggles and the greasiest hair. This is the main problem with To Leslie and Andrea Riseborough’s Oscars nomination—not that her performance isn’t impressive or that the flick isn’t a “little film with a big heart”, but that we’ve seen it all before. So many times now that it’s troubling.
Much of the film’s depiction of working-class struggle seems like a hammy Hollywood facsimile by those who have never listened to ‘Common People’ enough to realise that folks in the gutter can still gaze upwards and crack a smile. There is a lot of heart – as the campaign has continually asserted – but there isn’t a huge swathe of genuine sincerity or a true representation of transcendent human existence. Her performance is certainly impressive, and it fulfils the usual awards fodder of a polished star shunning shampoo for a rough role, but the “little film” shines through more than “the big heart” for the most part. As is often the case in cinematic depictions of our current ‘shithole’ existence.