Raining Stones

This politically scathing British film by director Ken Loach (Riff-Raff) might best be described as “kitchen-sink comedy,” named after the late-1950s to '60s British school of principled filmmaking that focused on working-class realism and taboo topics. Raining Stones is sharp and funny (at least, what I could understand of it was sharp and funny; my American ears would have appreciated subtitles), but it also swerves for moments of unimagined poignancy and contrast. With a delightfully unexpected ending and keen characterizations throughout, Raining Stones is an entertaining look at working class life on the edge of desperation. Bob (Jones) is an unemployed worker on the dole who, nevertheless, is a survivor who will do just about anything to get by. As the movie opens, he and his pal Tommy (Tomlinson) are seen stealing a sheep from the countryside. But they have trouble killing the animal themselves and take it to a butcher who tells them they've caught worthless mutton and not lamb. They next attempt to sell the meat chop by chop to tavern patrons, but that gig ends when Bob's van is stolen because Tommy left the keys in the ignition. Such is the life of working stiffs. We follow Bob from one makeshift job to the next: he goes door-to-door offering to clean drains but the only taker is the parish priest who thinks Bob's offer is an act of charity. Bob doesn't even last one night as a club bouncer before he becomes the bouncee. Complicating his straits is the fact that he wants to buy his young daughter a new dress for her first communion -- an impossible extravagance that becomes his primary obsession. Shot with a gritty realism and virtually no camera movement, Raining Stones captures both the absurdity and the pathos of the situation. Some unexpected twists near the end of the movie lead to unforeseen outcomes, though they could hardly be called resolutions. Raining stones gather no gloss.