







Few films really capture the messy middle of love — not the rush at the start or the wreckage at the end, but that awkward, uncomfortable space in between. A Kind of Loving does.
Alan Bates plays Vic, a manchild stumbling through romance like it’s a minefield — selfish, confused, and trying to act like a grown man in a world that rewards him for staying a boy. He’s no villain, just proof of how easily working-class men were pushed into marriage long before they learned how to talk about what they felt.
June Ritchie, as Ingrid, has fewer lines but far more weight to carry. The film gives her three choices — marriage, motherhood, or misery — and she fills that space with quiet heartbreak. You can see the emotional labour she shoulders just to keep things afloat, even as her life shrinks around her.
John Schlesinger shoots it all with a tender realism: backstreets, bus stops, and bedsits where respectability matters more than happiness. It’s funny, sad, and quietly political — a story about how men take, women endure, and both end up trapped in a kind of loving that feels more like survival.
One of the key films of the British new wave, which documents provincial working class life of the period through a realist approach. It tells a candid story drawn from the commonplace; the courtship and complications of a young couple who come together and marry when she gets pregnant. But which leads to a crisis when she miscarries.
Otherwise, this is a film of little dramatic incident. The working class man (Alan Bates) is looking for sex. The woman (June Ritchie) wants marriage and materialism. If these sound like dated stereotypes, then this is a period piece which captures a fascinating moment in British social history, just before the sexual liberation of the sixties.
This is the generation who missed out. The cinéma vérité is enriched by John Schlesinger's observant and eloquent direction. The social realism, shot around industrial Manchester is authentic. But it's his ability to use technique to explain these characters and their unspoken desires starkly but sympathetically which makes the film special.
The performances are genuine. Alan Bates is the nucleus, and he exposes the heart of a flawed everyman; not always sympathetic, but real. The support characters are archetypes, played by a gallery of soon-to-be television stars. In 1962, just hearing those working class voices- and accents- was a revolution. This film keeps them alive.