Cannes 2025 – Urchin ★★★★

Released: TBC (Cannes 2025)

Director: Harris Dickinson

Starring: Frank Dillane, Harris Dickinson

Harris Dickinson has shown he is far more than just a “Babygirl.” After recently appearing alongside Nicole Kidman and establishing himself in films like “Beach Rats,” “Triangle of Sadness,” and “The Iron Claw,” he proves with “Urchin” that he also possesses a remarkable voice behind the camera. His directorial debut is a quiet, uncompromising social drama about a young man trying— and repeatedly failing—to get his life back on track after prison.

With a clear, cool gaze on life at the margins of London, Dickinson crafts his debut as a ruthless character study of Mike (Frank Dillane), a young homeless man and former drug addict attempting to rebuild his life after incarceration. Dickinson explores the fragile balance between hope and despair, control and loss of control in a society that leaves little room for lost souls.

What sets “Urchin” apart from conventional social dramas is its nuanced interplay between moments of realism and nearly surreal dreamlike sequences. In an early shower scene, deliberately echoing iconic moments from films like “Psycho” and “Trainspotting,” Dickinson breaks through the harshness of social reality for a brief moment, opening a metaphorical space that makes Mike’s inner turmoil palpable. This scene marks a disruption in the narrative flow and reflects the feeling of shaking oneself clean—a struggle to free oneself from a past that never quite lets go.

The soundtrack plays a central role: songs like “Whole Again” by Atomic Kitten and “Voyage, Voyage” by Desireless create a layered mood oscillating between nostalgia and detachment. These pop-cultural elements contrast sharply with the bleak reality of the characters’ lives, imbuing the film with a melancholic depth. The choice of these songs feels deliberate: they evoke a bygone era, a youth that Mike can hardly grasp anymore, while simultaneously reflecting a yearning to return to a stable self that slips away inexorably. Dickinson uses music not merely as atmospheric embellishment but as a narrative tool that comments on the psychological state of his characters. When the nostalgic pop tunes play, Mike and the others temporarily escape into a past perceived as less fragile and more alive—which only intensifies the pain of present failure. The music thus becomes an auditory symbol of the duality between dream and reality, control and chaos.

Frank Dillane impresses as the charismatic yet deeply ambivalent Mike, whose façade of coolness and self-assertion serves both as a defence mechanism and a trap. He portrays a man oscillating between conformity and rebellion, craving belonging but unsure how to find it. Dickinson’s direction avoids sentimental idealisation, instead approaching the protagonist with a blend of empathy and sober observation, granting the film an authentic, never moralizing tone. The relationship between Mike and Andrea (Megan Northam) is told with sensitive restraint—a fragile hope in an otherwise barren world. Yet relapses and the inability to control one’s own story render every attempt at closeness fragile, mirroring the film’s central theme: the constant struggle for autonomy within a system that hinders or even denies it. Alongside Mike stands Nathan (played by Dickinson himself), a shadowy figure acting as a dark mirror. Nathan embodies the temptation and danger of falling back into destructive patterns. The dynamic tension between the two characters underscores that paths out of poverty and addiction are rarely linear and that good intentions are often undermined by external circumstances and inner demons.

Ultimately, “Urchin” is a quiet, multi-layered reflection on social invisibility, the futile fight for normality, and the fragile construction of identity. Harris Dickinson emerges as a director with a keen sensitivity for mood, underpinning his debut with a soundtrack and visual language that transcend the specific social context and touch on universal human experiences.

The film consciously avoids pathos and simplistic blame, instead creating a space where failure and hope coexist. This makes “Urchin” a compelling testament to our times and a promising start to Dickinson’s career as a filmmaker.