The Nature of the Beast (1988)

An unknown predator is killing livestock in Haverston, a failing mill town in northern England. As the last mill closes Bill Coward (Lynton Dearden) and his friend Mick Dalton (Paul Simpson) decide to hunt the beast. Janni Howker adapts her novel, which won the Whitbread Children's Novel award in 1985 for director Franco Rosso, a filmmaker inspired by his formative work on the crew of 'Kes' (1969), Ken Loach's acclaimed adaptation of Barry Hine's novel 'A Kestrel for a Knave' (1968). Howker and Rosso update Loach's portrayal of childhood, nature, and deprivation for the 1980s as the bleak certainties of industrial society totter on the verge of collapse. Shot in Blackburn and Accrington 'Nature of the Beast' recalls a time when the last remnants of the dominant local textile industry were being swept away by the rapacious free-market dogma of Thatcherism. Working life in the mills and factories was harsh but in recompense it offered a sense of continuity, solidarity, and purpose for those who wanted it. From the late nineteenth century governments funded social infrastructure which slowly improved living standards and welfare systems that mitigated some of the shocks of economic turbulence. Access to basic schooling and subsidised higher education allowed many children of working-class families to escape from factory life into the relative comfort of the service and creative sectors. Such compensations are rapidly disappearing as monetarist governments dismantle the support framework provided by the state and expose education to market forces. Those who grew up in working towns on either side of the Pennines in the last quarter of the twentieth century will recognise many period details in 'Nature of the Beast', they may suffer uncomfortable pangs of nostalgia for affordable public transport, comprehensive education and a certain sense of community but the film provokes more profound discomfort when you realise how little the harsh realities of life for the poor have changed since this film was made. As these textile towns become redundant in a rapidly changing global market local families struggle to adjust. 'Nature of the Beast' portrays a damaged family under extreme duress: Bill's father Ned (Freddie Fletcher who also appeared in 'Kes') is a lone parent who must support his son and his own father Chunder (Tony Melody), a proud man left without purpose who can only dote on his chickens and drink himself to oblivion. Ned's brusque compassion as he struggles to care for his broken father and offer his son a better life appears hopeless when even the corner chip shop is closing. He has little to offer his son other than unflinching pragmatism and a pugnacious will to fight for lost causes. Howker's screenplay captures the soft rhythms of Lancastrian speech; rich with local idioms and rough humour which reflect the awkward constraint of masculine relationships where tenderness is rarely expressed. Lead actors Lynton Dearden and Paul Simpson were chosen from auditions at local schools and deliver committed, realistic performances. Children look on as their parents struggle with insurmountable economic reality. Their frustration may harden into alienation and violence unless someone intervenes. Unfortunately, education offers little practical help despite the quiet dignity of teacher Oggy (Dave Hill) who insistently reminds his pupils of their industrial heritage whilst attempting to instil some humanity into their bleak lives. Ned looks to the booming Scottish oilfields for work. In response to the imminent collapse of his domestic life Bill has decided that he will live as a wild man on the moors, the bleak hillsides offer more solace than the decaying townscapes with their serried rows of terraced houses. Although the landscape that surrounds these northern towns has a severe beauty it offers no balm, only cold winds and persistent rain. This is unforgiving country where predators feed and prey lives in fear. The natural world of 'Nature of the Beast' is a plain metaphor for the brutal social Darwinism of capitalism. These are similar imaginative regions to the sparse vistas of 'Spirit of the Beehive' (Victor Erice, 1973), another film that views the relationship between political oppression and the natural world with the steady gaze of a child. 'Nature of the Beast' sometimes recalls the abrasive fictions of Gordon Burn and his penetrating journalistic studies of northern England which try to get inside the personalities of men like Peter Sutcliffe (The Yorkshire Ripper) to trace the connections between acts of violence and formative social or emotional deprivation. Bill's single-minded pursuit of the beast represents an attempt to confront the forces that are destroying his world. His rage may breed intense self-reliance, but at the cost of his humanity or sense of compassion. Viewers accustomed to the bland fare of twenty-first century British television drama will be shocked by Franco's forthright political stance. The exact nature of the beast that stalks these communities may appear obvious but despite its clumsy didactics the film never patronises the cultures that it depicts. As films like 'Nature of the Beast' and 'Kes' slip further into the past, they exemplify the long forgetting that defines political discourse in Britain. 'Nature of the Beast' captures a time and place that is both distant and disconcertingly familiar. Howker and Rosso's outspoken social critique remains profoundly uncomfortable to the wealthy minority who monopolise channels of artistic expression. 'Nature of the Beast' is far removed from the comforting platitudes of 'Brassed Off' (Mark Herman, 1996) or 'The Full Monty' (Peter Cattaneo, 1997) where a gentle mix of social commentary and nostalgia sentimentalises the long, slow apocalypse of northern England whilst replaying empty promises that hard work and aspiration will always be rewarded. The unfashionable polemic of 'Nature of the Beast' proclaims the profound injustice of an economic system that exploits local communities for profit only to discard them when cheaper labour is found elsewhere. Despite the knee-jerk racism of popular nationalism, the game is rigged whether you work in the sweatshops and factory towns of Poland, Peru or Pittsburgh. This makes Rosso and Howker's impassioned insistence that the blind pursuit of gain creates monsters as relevant now as it was when Ken Loach made 'Kes' in 1969. As poor communities fall into despair, we risk creating a generation who, taught by example, survive only by exploiting others. Thankfully 'Nature of the Beast' is a more compassionate film than depressing and insidious horrors like 'Eden Lake' (James Watkins, 2008) or 'Cherry Tree Lane' (Paul Andrew Williams, 2010) which demonise deprivation, exploit social inequality for shock effect and perpetuate the cycle of ignorance, neglect, and recrimination. Bill's family may be cracking but his love for his father and grandfather shines in occasional moments of genuine tenderness. If Bill is in danger of becoming a beast like the feral teen psychopaths of 'Eden Lake' we must all share a degree of culpability for supporting a system where post-war efforts to redistribute wealth have been reversed and social mobility has been curtailed. 'Nature of the Beast' is a bleak film, viewers seeking a sense of hope may find it in northern England's ability to alchemise harsh social conditions into works of art, literature, film and music. Director Michael Winterbottom grew up in Blackburn in the late 1980s, his film 'Twenty-Four Hour Party People' (2002) offers another view of northern England in the late eighties and early nineties as northern towns responded to economic decay with a vivid flowering of creativity. Artists like The Smiths, Joy Division and New Order channelled their angst into music which chronicles and celebrates these communities. His film offers a pleasing balance to the harshness of Rosso's film and leavens political honesty with pugnacious humour whilst acknowledging our ability to transform experience into art. Rosso's direction is unobtrusive, and he seems reluctant to let stylistic quirks obscure the film's political message. The low, prowling tacking shots through sleeping back alleys as the beast roams the town are exhilarating none the less and Nat Crosby's photography finds a certain beauty in these rainy townscapes and windy moors which residents past or present will recognise. The film provides an early example of composer Hans Zimmer's work and the score, co-written with Stanley Myers is particularly effective as it accompanies Crosby's handsome landscapes. Originally funded by Film Four 'Nature of the Beast' remains a difficult film to find for British viewers and is long overdue for restoration and re-release by the BFI. The film documents communities in decline and deserves better than relegation into obscurity for its refusal to romanticise or sentimentalise northern life. Its political message is as relevant today as it was in 1988 even if the central metaphor of capitalism as beast is expressed rather too directly for modern tastes. It's a chastening experience and a welcome corrective to the comic stereotypes, brass bands and tour guide propaganda of too many cinematic or televisual portrayals of northern England.