Dear readers,

on a personal and social level, these are days of great concern, gray and difficult. Yet, I'm not here to leave you with a desperate and afflicted write-up, but, rather, to talk to you about cinema; after all, dark times come for everyone and, since darkness (in the cinema) is an essential premise to start a film, I took the opportunity to watch a few by dear old Ken Loach.

His career and cinema are closely linked to Thatcher's political actions; particularly in the Eighties, he made a series of documentaries about the relationships between trade unions and the government, many of which never aired. To put it bluntly and briefly, he believes that the lady should be cursed for her stance in the class war of the 20th century, that is, for deciding that the rich should become richer and the poor should become poorer (and have fewer rights). Aesthetically, he carries forward this critique, telling stories that feature members of the working class, who juggle increasingly uncertain, insecure, and dangerous jobs, attempting to carve out a bit of beauty for their emotional lives.

Meanwhile, after the Iron Lady has passed away and closed her eyes forever, English society doesn't change course, and Loach continues to tell stories of the working class in his own way.

These stories are made into films that navigate between drama and comedy, sometimes leaning more towards one side, sometimes the other. At times they provoke anger, other times a laugh, often bitter, and a bit of hope.

Well, if tonight you feel inclined towards the latter type of films and emotions, The "part" of the angels might be just what you're looking for.

It tells the story of Robbie, Albert, Mo, Rhyno, and others like them who have been charged with minor offenses. All, rightly or wrongly, wayward or unlucky, are sentenced to many hours of community service. They all work under the guidance and protective wing of Harry, a sixty-year-old, coach of an amateur football team, and connoisseur of whiskey, who treats them with candor and affection, just like his team players.

Probably, while making the film, our director wanted to provide an answer to those who wonder how, in his opinion, the gloom of society's existence, as mentioned a few lines ago, can be pierced.

“Someone gave me a chance once and it changed my life. And it sure sounds like you two could do with some luck.”

It is said at a moment in the film, and Harry offers Robbie just the first of these chances to get back up.

Yes, to get back up, because the situation for Robbie (and the others) is not simple at all. When his girlfriend Leonie gives birth to their first child, Robert is beaten by his girlfriend's uncles and father who don't want him in the family. It doesn’t stop there, Robbie is pursued by other old enemies: in short, the ghosts of the past are everywhere in the old neighborhood and the path to redemption is fraught with pitfalls.

Nevertheless, Harry's trust in Robbie is strong and generous, so, to celebrate the arrival of the child, he introduces the new dad, Robbie, to the religion of whiskey lovers.

Where, how, and when he will finally manage to get up and change his life is shown in the film in a story that travels between highs and lows, moments of tension and surprise, comedic and grotesque situations.

Grotesque because our protagonists, after all, are well-meaning rascals who got into trouble and try to get out of it, mostly in a humorous and light-hearted way. Their story is good for the spirit, and for this reason, I recommend you get to know it by watching and listening to its images and words with an open heart.

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