Eric Bishop, a postal worker in Manchester, is going through a tough time. His two sons are thriving in various illegal activities right under his nose, his daughter thinks he's not measuring up, and his love life is nonexistent. Despite the cheerful camaraderie and good spirits of his postal colleagues, who do their best to lift his spirits, nothing seems to help... One evening, Eric turns to his idol, who, from the poster on his bedroom wall, seems to be watching him with a mischievous eye. What would the legendary Manchester United player, Eric Cantona, do in his situation? Eric is convinced that the King can help him take control of his life again.
One minute he is telling us about seagulls and sardines, the next he is acting as a glorified counsellor - and that's when he's not helping Manchester United to rule the roost in the English Premier League. Eric is a multi-talented fellow, which is just as well as he has quite a task. It's super-fan "Eric" (Steve Evets) who is part of a dyed-in-the-wool group of postmen-fans of the club who lives with his stepsons "Ryan" (Gerard Kearns) and "Jess" (Stefan Gumbs) who have little respect for the man. Things all start to come to an head when the gullible "Ryan" gets himself involved with local hoodlum "Zac" (Steve Marsh) who gets him to hide a gun under the floorboards. When this is found some home truths have to be shared between these men - truths that lead to violence, a police raid and then maybe the best example of group participation I've ever seen on screen. It's got many of Ken Loach's usual hallmark views on the typical working class, but they don't take front and centre as prominently as in many of his more political films. This one comes across as more a critique on the dynamics of a family, and a largely male one at that, of community and of the almost tribal attitudes and loyalties that passionate following of a football club can engender. Evets handles his role well, especially in his scenes with his footballing icon that appear shot in such a fashion as to look like they are in the same room, sharing a drink or a cigarette, but also looking like they are not. It's Kearns who steals the show for me, though - his performance is engagingly visceral and at times quite touching. There's some gritty humour to be had here, too, and a little dig at those who gentrified football with their 4x4s and their season tickets at the expense of the ordinary fans. It's blunt and brutal, sensitive, funny and worth a watch.
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