Urchin Is a Promising Yet Unbalanced Directorial Debut

Many actors these days are taking their turn in the director’s (and writer’s) chair, such as actor Harris Dickinson. His debut drama, Urchin, received two wins and nine nominations, including the Un Certain Regard Award at Cannes. Mike (Frank Dillane) is a struggling addict living on the streets of London, who is given a chance at a new life, but the road to stability and recovery turns into a strange, surrealist journey. After an incident that leads to his arrest, Mike is catapulted into an increasingly unpredictable existence, and he embarks on a wild ride that turns into something else entirely by the end.

During promotional interviews, Dickinson shared that as part of their research, he and Dillane visited prisons and homeless shelters to ensure an authentic portrayal of what they had seen and experienced. Dickinson and Dillane certainly succeeded in crafting Mike as a flawed and often unlikable character. Urchin is a social-realist drama with comedic and quirky elements, but lacks a definable plot or sense of urgency. The film functions as an engaging character study marked by an unconventional unfolding of events rather than a tonally balanced artistic work. While Dickinson’s effort is valiant and bold, the film fails to leave a lasting impression, boasting only a strong directorial vision and Dillane’s star-makingly alluring performance to support it.

Most of the film explores Mike as he floats from job to job, while attempting to maintain his sobriety. Reintegrating into society is challenging, and he often feels like an outsider looking in. There are countless shots of Mike aimlessly wandering the streets alone; rarely does Dickinson choose to show Mike’s face up close, ever so slightly keeping him at a distance. Perhaps intentionally, Dickinson doesn’t want us to get too comfortable and invested in Mike because that’s how all of his real-life interactions are: fleeting and impermanent.

At his first restaurant job, Mike makes friends with his coworkers, but after he gets fired, they don’t ever speak again. Similarly, when Mike meets Nadia (Megan Northam) while volunteering, they form a bond, but it doesn’t last long because of their differing worldviews, which causes a rift in their relationship. They also never see each other again. However, Mike does find a true (but temporary) connection with a fellow addict, Nathan, whom Dickinson plays, and their banter is entertaining, almost brotherly. Even though they have a few genuine moments, it’s been transactional from the start. 

The movie has an obvious transcendental layer to it; aside from Mike listening to meditation tapes, there’s dreamy imagery and random jumps to a specific place outside Mike’s tangible world. The surrealist components scattered throughout could be a metaphor for his deep longing to be in another realm that is devoid of people, pain, addiction, and societal norms—a world that’s his own. He can finally be who he wants. While these surrealist themes and imagery are up for interpretation, Dickinson is certainly reaching for something intriguing, but it doesn’t quite add up in what’s otherwise a grounded character piece.

Dickinson utilizes his platform as director and writer to subtly address the larger issues within British society regarding homelessness, a topic he is clearly passionate about. For a first-time filmmaker, he already possesses a captivating and unique style, and it will be exciting to see what he does next. Unfortunately, Urchin lacks the weighty emotional resonance that makes it memorable,  rendering it cold, restrained, and unfulfilling. Frank Dillane keeps the movie afloat, and he manages to discover the humanity within Mike, no matter how fragmented and damaged.