Farming (2018)

Farming is the kind of autobiographical drama that doesn’t ask for your attention so much as seize it, turning a rarely discussed chapter of British history into something urgent, intimate, and unforgettable. Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje directs with a raw, confrontational honesty, and Damson Idris gives Enitan a wounded humanity that makes every hard turn feel tragically understandable, not sensational. The film’s vibe is tense and bruising—more like a confession than a comfort watch—yet it’s threaded with a fierce heartbeat, especially in the complicated bond with Kate Beckinsale’s stern, ill-equipped foster mother. It’s not for everyone given the relentless racist violence and language, but if you can sit with its discomfort, it rewards you with an arresting, deeply heartfelt look at identity, belonging, and the cost of being denied both.

Farming is clearly trying to turn a painfully personal, real-life experience into a blunt wake-up call about identity, abandonment, and how racism can twist a kid’s need to belong into something ugly. The problem is the storytelling can feel heavy-handed and uneven, with big emotional turns that land more like bullet points than fully lived-in moments, and supporting characters that sometimes read as sketches rather than people. It’s also relentlessly harsh—racial violence and slurs aren’t background texture here, they’re the main event—so if you’re looking for insight delivered with nuance or breathing room, this may feel more punishing than illuminating. Still, Damson Idris commits, and the film’s raw sincerity gives it value if you can accept a rough, jagged delivery in exchange for an unfiltered perspective.