Mrs Ross wasn't unique in 1960s England. More specifically, the Northern part of England where the film is authentically set; a place which as well as kick starting the lucrative Industrial Revolution also suffered from the kinds of human depravation that even this grim portrayal can't fully convey.
Margaret Ross is poor. Really poor. Her shoes have holes in and they let in the rain. The term 'cold water flat' describes Mrs Ross' existence perfectly, for it's doubtful that beyond warming water to make tea that she ever has the luxury of feeling it on her skin - she simply can't afford it. Are the voices she hears real or imagined? What are they saying and can she trust them? Why do they torment her so?
That the desperately lonely Mrs Ross descends into manufacturing fantasies of grandeur and a past 'better life', not only for herself but conveyed to those around her, is as understandable as it is completely pitiful.
I defy anyone not to feel compassion towards the lonely, dispossessed and chilly elderly people as they queue to be admitted to the warmth of the public library. And how can you not feel sad as once inside, a nervous Margaret Ross quietly slips her foot from her shoe in order to secretly place the sole onto a warm pipe? And not feel outrage and even anger as a puffed-up public servant publicly admonishes and shames her for this 'heinous' act. Regularly visiting the church mission to 'sing for her supper' provides at least one chance to eat. Waiting in line at 'the public assistance' office in order to plead her case for just a little money to ease her meager existence not only fulfills her bodily needs, but offers her a tiny glimpse of respect from 'a gentleman' in the form of Mr Conrad, the man who decides whether she receives the requested funds - or not. Mrs Ross is proud of her status as a woman of refinement and Mr Conrad does nothing to challenge this illusion. In fact, he's rather fond of the deluded elderly client and later on in the film proves his kindness and deep desire to genuinely help her.
Can her indignity, her abject misery get any worse? Oh yes, oh yes... Enter the morally vile, unscrupulous Mrs Noonan, exquisitely played by Manchester born Avis Bunnage, to horribly dupe and defile this harmless, defenceless old lady. I defy anyone witnessing what plays out not to feel pity, revulsion and deep, deep anger.
Can things get even WORSE for Margaret following her unlucky run in with Noonan? Again, yes. Enter Charlie Ross, Margaret's errant and ne'er-do-well husband who's only real kindness towards his wife was abandoning her years before. Add in the dubious attention from her crooked son, and really, nothing looks in the least bit easy in Margaret's so-called life. What affects do the Ross men have on Margaret? In order to find out, I urge you to track down and experience this deeply emotive and challenging film.
Did people like Mrs Ross really exist? Do they still?
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