Help
CHANNEL 4There are two types of films that are not evolving out of the pandemic world brought to a standstill by COVID-19. The first feature uses the virus as an allegorical or contextual pivot within the narrative, such as Doug Liman's Locked Down or Adam Mason's Songbird, that go a long way to undermind and assault the sense of the pandemic. The other type of film truly addresses the issues at hand with COVID in the likes of Weixi Chen and Hao Wu's 76 Days. Marc Munden's Help is a feature that is undoubtedly on the latter side. One that, even with the pandemic normalising and slowly being desensitised in the public forum, packs such a harrowing and brutal emotional punch through Jack Thorne's writing, it is a film that pulls the viewer back into the darkest of times and becomes quite a difficult albeit educational feature to escape from.
The first and foremost, as aforementioned, the largest concern of Help is how it conducts its message and contextualises COVID-19. The message is simple: show the harsh truth and reality of how the pandemic affected people and the resulting mess they were put through due to gross negligence. This political angle from Thorne will undeniably cause quite a commotion in COVID-19 deniers or naive Conservative party members. Yet such passion and power to have the guts to call this catastrophe and negligence brings a calculated and emotionally powerful thematic weight to proceedings. This is not a hollow drama that won't take a side; Thorne uses this narrative as one part drama and one part activist voice to give those who lost their lives due to incompetence a remembrance and power.
The first act creates an immersive experience in the care home, with bubbling characters and a rich tapestry of depth. This element is undeniably fortified in which Thorne and his team conduct said narrative. Jodie Comer is electrifyingly good here, going as far as to say that her talent as an actor is, perhaps, decades above her contemporaries. It is almost frightening to witness Comer come to fruition on-screen with striking charisma and tender production of range. Acting against the always-outstanding Stephen Graham is equally as effective in brooding said charisma, with Graham playing against conventional type. Like his performance in Shane Meadows' The Virtues, he showcases an outstanding ability in his range of emotional depth but an understanding of craft and method. The sheer tender and emotional brevity Graham outlines and conceives is nothing short of incredible.
To make these sentiments even more powerful is that this acknowledgement of talents is produced all before Thorne's screenplay takes the viewer into the harrowing storm of COVID-19 – and here is where it becomes a harrowing and often brutal feature. The truths and nature of proceedings will be raw for many, and how Thorne and Munden conceive this torture is akin to the horror genre, however not necessarily in physical or visual conventions. This, again, is where Thorne's screenplay comes into its own and showcases that the devil really is in the details, with how the writer identifies trigger words that instill fear with the acknowledgement of further understanding of said words. PPE, masks, etcetera are all trigger words that, in the moment and contexts of the plot, do not hold the emotional weight they do for the audience watching these events in the present. This crafts a deeper emotional attachment and acknowledgement that the viewer becomes distraught and disturbed by understanding of what is yet to come; the audience knows more than the characters, crafting a torrid albeit effective bond.
Granted, Thorne's screenplay is matched quite brilliantly with Munden's direction, which with the likes of Comer and Graham also has the talents of support through Ian Hart and Sue Johnston, to name just a few. Munden does an excellent job of building space and setting as there are pauses and reflections through his background – namely via supporting players that further project that fragility of the feature’s emotional core and the grievances of those who are affected as bystanders. The cinematic and filmmaking quality is equally as effective. A rather splendid, unbroken twenty six-minute take may feel excessive on paper but crafts impactful and captivating scene with a well-executed cinematic trick from the director of photography Mark Wolf and editor Simon Smith.
Help is a tough watch. More so than that: it is heartbreaking, harrowing, and being true to the point, a feature that will not be too keen with rewatches – said with the utmost respect. Nevertheless, it comes across that Munden and Thorne understand this predicament and throw everything possible in this feature in order for it to do its job with one watch. The results are a fabulous and effective concoction of performance and filmmaking, resulting in a feature that gives those who are not here anymore – due to ignorance and neglect from those meant to protect the vulnerable – a fight and voice.
