FlashCallahan Loach has once again made a film about working class Britain, and filled it full of humour and heart.But as always with his films, soon after the humour comes a lot of pain, and even at the beginning when the two lovers meet, it's under depressing circumstances, and the relationship between them never really gets any better.Loach always manages to get great performances from all of his cast, and special mentions to Carlyle and Tomlinson, for putting in some very respectable performances. But the issue here is the class struggle, hence the title and the killing of the rats. To other classes, is this demographic of people classed as rats?The film asks a lot of questions, and thanks to the bleakness of the film and the settings, a lot of i is justified. But then Loach shows us that we are all the same when it comes to the bottom line, and no amount of scaffolding can change that.It packs a punch, but it's so full of rich humour and characters, the bleakness is almost lifted.

thecatcanwait Ken Loach doing his usual social documenting of working class nitty grittiness.It's "Boys from the Blackstuff" meets "Auf Wiedersehen Pet"; indignant about the selfish "Me Me Me" property developer greed of the Thatcher years – but leavened by typical Scouse (and Manc) sarcasm, and softened with a short if not so sweet romance.Robert Carlyle is Stevie, fresh out of jail, and having a go at life outside Scotland; gets taken on as a construction worker; is found an empty council flat to squat; is quickly shacking up with Susie, a fragile, troubled, Irish singer. He's soon back into his petty thieving ways; knocking off machinery from the site. "Labourin is rubbish, boxer shorts is better (selling of)" seems to be the extent of his aspiration. Stevie and Susie are both "unstable" characters so arguing is bound to be happening; he's having to drag her out of bed: "Depression is for the middle classes – the rest of us have got an early start in the morning". Then he gets news his mothers died – so he's off up to Scotland for the funeral. Cue a black comedy scene at the crematorium with inept swinging of urn – mother ash thrown all over the party of mourners.Returning, Stevie is just in time to see Susie sticking a needle up her arm. It's at this point Robert Carlyle breaks out into a warm up version of Begbie from Trainspotting: nut-ting people in the gob, stamping on their wotsits etc. And as for Susie: She's dumped. End of. No sympathy with junkie smack-heads has Stevie. Or Begbie. Or even Robert Carlyle.Ricky Tomlinson is in the film too – as a mouthy Trade Union sympathiser, his Commie vitriol redeemed by sarky gags and loud laughing; a bit like a younger version of Jim Royle, minus the beard.Towards the end i was thinking: someone's gonna be falling off this dodgy scaffolding without his tin hat on in a minute – and sure enough, he was. And Them Barstewards are gonna have to pay for that. We need some Natural Justice here. Lets burn the whole flipping lot down. Any volunteers? Yeah. Stevie will do it. With glee.The film is unaffected in its down to earth portrayal of the working class bloke: the thieving cheating lying lazy barsteward that skives around as cheap casual labour on building sites while fiddling the dole type of working class bloke. The type that doesn't really give a monkeys. As long as it gets paid. Even if it doesn't get paid enough. Cus the company employing it is an exploitative cheating lying greedy barsteward too.Its a right riff raffy racket is the Building Trade. Seems to be the message. Something i – and all of us – knows already. So nothing new there then. But my – and your – cynicism will get a nice pat on its back.I wouldn't want any of this lot building a house for me.

mvassa71 This unpretentious British indie film is a rough diamond in the rough. It chronicles the lives of a handful of blue collar workers trying to survive in early 90's London. It's almost documentary in style and narrative, which lends a feeling of authenticity, which is helped also by fine performances all around. Shows the humor, frustration and dashed dreams in an unforgiving society, and it has heart. It is at times funny, heart wrenching, and touching. The accents are thick, so you may appreciate the subtitles that are on some versions. I found them distracting, so I put some tape over the bottom of the screen. I had to strain a few times to understand, but I don't think the subtitles were necessary. Well worth a watch.

Peter Hayes It is rare that a drama is anything about your life or any part of it. I apologise is your job is searching for serial killers or on your way to becoming a world sporting champion after overcoming cancer, but what we have here is a little bit of (UK) working class reality. Trust me I was there and so was the late writer Bill Jess.(Jess died shortly before this film came out.)I worked on a building sites at weekends as a 15 year old and although I have no pictures or film to remind - at least I have this and the buildings that I helped construct.I have met all of the people under the loop here (not always on building sites though) and, to be quite frank, it is all a bit frightening. However I lived in a predominantly white district so I had no experience of on-the-job multiculturalism, and that is the only part I cannot really comment upon or relate to.Robert Carlyle is a genius at portraying the British working-class. Maybe he is the real thing, in part, but he seems able to transform himself physically as well as mentally. I have never seen him overact in anything and he has had plenty of opportunities. He even takes on impossible parts like Hitler!Here he is a Glasgow jailbird, squatting in London and hoping to make a few quid on the black economy. He hooks up with a girl that claims to be a singer and poet, but is actually only in to hard drugs. He deals with the situation the best he can using the only language he can.London is the 1980's was one of the cheapest places in the world to live. You wanted a flat? - get a crowbar - here's your flat! Well for a short while before the heavy mob show up. That is how the rock group The Police first got to live in our capital city!(Today building sites are full of foreign workers - some legal, some not - that don't squat but live in the back of vans parked on or near the site.)Strangely, Ricky Tomlinson became a actor after being banned from building sites due to his political activities. In 1973 he sent to jail (see his IMDb bio) in an episode that shows British justice at its worst: Charging someone with a serious offence and then trying to get a guilty plea in return for a lesser charge. Ricky - being a man not a mouse - didn't fall for it. Others did, making it look extra bad for him.He later went to be a popular man on TV and British film and will earn over a million dollars from his autobiography "Ricky"!What makes this film even more frightening is the dramatic conclusion. Something similar (although not quite as serious) happened where I worked - although not while I was there. In a coincidence that would make a TV script writer blush I was with the boss of the said firm in a van and we passed the subject in the street. "He got very lucky," said Mr Boss-man waving from the van, "he landed on his head and that is what saved him." It was pure Ken Loach moment, so I hope he is reading this.