Ken Loach's 2001 film The Navigators is a resolutely left-wing drama about railway privatisation, written by former railwayman Rob Dawber, based on his own experiences (Dawber died from occupational exposure to asbestos before the film was released). Given the writer's own perspective and Loach's socialist leanings, it is hardly surprising that film is firmly one-sided, but audience members whose political views don't fully align with the director's are likely to find it heavy-handed.
The film is subtitled "Stories from the Trackside" and is set in South Yorkshire in 1995, as British Rail is carved up and franchised off to fictional versions of real companies. What follows is a prolonged whinge about the end of railway nationalisation and the start of privatisation, with the inevitable cries of anguish about poor treatment of workers. Since much of it is based on what Dawber saw first-hand, much of it has the ring of truth, but it is delivered in a decidedly heavy-handed fashion. It is hard not to sympathise when new Managing Director Hemmings is portrayed as a bully who wants Union "trouble makers" sacked and all workers concessions and conditions scrapped in favour of a clean slate, leaving the men struggling to make ends meet, although since employment laws have changed since 1995, the poor conditions faced by the redeployed British Rail workers regarding sickness and holiday pay are - for the most part - thankfully anachronistic.
It doesn't help that it is clumsily written. There are assorted kitchen-sink clichés scattered throughout, from Joe Duttine's Paul clashing with his ex-wife and Thomas Craig's Mick's disappointing sex life. Whilst there is plenty of evidence to support the argument that unemployment causes domestic friction, the tone of the film is uneasy, with a deliberately absurd discussion about efficiency when the men are told that their jobs aren't viable and are given twelve weeks notice of redundancy, plus several moments of slapstick humour plus practical jokes, that don't sit terribly well with the overall feel of the piece. Not for the first time, Loach thus presents an argument exclusively from the side he sympathises with, abandoning any attempt at subtlety and demonising the opposition whilst reducing them to one-dimensional pantomime villains. And also not for the first time, the film concludes on an unnecessarily melodramatic note that again sees the director excusing criminal - or at least morally questionable - behaviour, as long as it is committed by working class men in fear of their livelihoods.
The film is at least made with Loach's usual skill, shot on location as always and benefitting from his long-term collaboration with cinematographer Barry Ackroyd. He also assembles a strong cast with accents authentic to the region, whose members give uniformly believable, naturalistic performances. With the debate about private companies cutting corners (and workers) to maximise profit and productivity at the cost of safety and quality, the film has become topical again and might yet find a new audience, but there are pros and cons to everything, even when the one outweighs the other: The Navigators makes valid points, but it could have done so with more nuance, with more intelligent debate, and with considerably less melodrama.
The film is subtitled "Stories from the Trackside" and is set in South Yorkshire in 1995, as British Rail is carved up and franchised off to fictional versions of real companies. What follows is a prolonged whinge about the end of railway nationalisation and the start of privatisation, with the inevitable cries of anguish about poor treatment of workers. Since much of it is based on what Dawber saw first-hand, much of it has the ring of truth, but it is delivered in a decidedly heavy-handed fashion. It is hard not to sympathise when new Managing Director Hemmings is portrayed as a bully who wants Union "trouble makers" sacked and all workers concessions and conditions scrapped in favour of a clean slate, leaving the men struggling to make ends meet, although since employment laws have changed since 1995, the poor conditions faced by the redeployed British Rail workers regarding sickness and holiday pay are - for the most part - thankfully anachronistic.
It doesn't help that it is clumsily written. There are assorted kitchen-sink clichés scattered throughout, from Joe Duttine's Paul clashing with his ex-wife and Thomas Craig's Mick's disappointing sex life. Whilst there is plenty of evidence to support the argument that unemployment causes domestic friction, the tone of the film is uneasy, with a deliberately absurd discussion about efficiency when the men are told that their jobs aren't viable and are given twelve weeks notice of redundancy, plus several moments of slapstick humour plus practical jokes, that don't sit terribly well with the overall feel of the piece. Not for the first time, Loach thus presents an argument exclusively from the side he sympathises with, abandoning any attempt at subtlety and demonising the opposition whilst reducing them to one-dimensional pantomime villains. And also not for the first time, the film concludes on an unnecessarily melodramatic note that again sees the director excusing criminal - or at least morally questionable - behaviour, as long as it is committed by working class men in fear of their livelihoods.
The film is at least made with Loach's usual skill, shot on location as always and benefitting from his long-term collaboration with cinematographer Barry Ackroyd. He also assembles a strong cast with accents authentic to the region, whose members give uniformly believable, naturalistic performances. With the debate about private companies cutting corners (and workers) to maximise profit and productivity at the cost of safety and quality, the film has become topical again and might yet find a new audience, but there are pros and cons to everything, even when the one outweighs the other: The Navigators makes valid points, but it could have done so with more nuance, with more intelligent debate, and with considerably less melodrama.