Urchin (Harris Dickinson, 2025)
The economist Rutger Bergman posited that poverty isn’t a lack of character, it is the lack of cash. This lack causes certain physiological changes in the human brain that prevents the poor from being able to plan beyond their next sandwich. Frank Dillane’s charged performance as Michael taps into that very condition of being unable to think beyond the immediacy of feeling. So much so that he is unable to process joy after that night of karaoke and it seems to leak out of him in spurts at home and in the counsellor’s office the next day.
But what surprised me most is the film’s suspicion towards every other agent of support or goodwill. It asks us, just as Michael asks of everyone, who ‘really’ cares, and how much?
Michael’s attack on the first person that offers help isn’t motivated by misanthropy but by the simple fact that the security of a meal tomorrow is worth more than the promise of a bagel today. This is why Michael cannot trust his welfare officer, sure he has housing for six weeks, but what after? His downward spiral is triggered by a mediation session with his victim. And we see that the state would rather spend time and effort processing the shock and grief of the victims of a mugging than spend a minute understanding why it occurs in the first place. The infrastructure is present, but not the intent.
The first half hour does a great job by portraying the homeless as more than an epithet but as a community who have their rituals, routines and friendships. More a sketch than a story the film moves best when it follows Michael moving through the world trying to find his place. But this tension breaks in the quieter moments that are either played for laughs or sound like explicit commentary. Harris Dickinson is an able director indeed but his debut succumbs to one too many indulgent flourishes that blunts his critique. That this film works is a credit to Frank’s kinetic performance.