The Lady in The VanBloody Alan Bennett. love him/ hate him. Such a juxtaposition of all that is great about Yorkshire character, most of Britain in general actually. On the one hand brilliant lyrical sauce that underpins everything you think but underneath it all is a massive and passive liberal. There is this dichotomy running right through the film.
It's a story of Bennett's home in Camden where somehow he has allowed a eccentric bag lady to park her battered van on his drive and, well live in it, shit on his garden, upset some aspirational neighbours, amuse others but throughout jars her presence into Bennett's lo fi life whilst he simultaneously grapples with his own split trajectories. His own mothers slip into dementia and ill health for instance whilst he accommodates this stranger in his yard and his own split introspective dialogue between Bennett the writer and Bennett the person.
Wonderfully slow burning and cerebral, the lady in the vans life prises open a little and secrets drip out this gentle film also provokes thought about care and motive. Bennett himself refusing to concede he is a caring person but simply a person who copes, observes, writes and gets on with it as it is simply too much effort to interrupt these things.