Micro-budgeted British B film which overcomes its limitations to deliver solid social commentary. It can't have had an auspicious pitch. This is about council drains... But it's also a David and Goliath story, as a middle aged housewife (Jill Esmond) goes up against the town hall and accuses them of graft, which leads to tragedy.
The film is compromised by its short running time and a lack of money. Plot lines are curtailed. The look is bare and the sound is rudimentary. The director chooses as few set ups as possible for his static camera. The actors are familiar without being even minor stars. There is a feeling of the budget running out as the big finale is replaced by a chat
But the premise of the underdog taking on entrenched vested interest is a resilient one. The script grinds a small political axe. The council is implied to be Tory, and there is warning of the dangers of fascism from the crusading local news reporter (Gerard Heinz), who was a refugee from the Nazis. But mostly we get an impression of how insulated are the guardians of power.
This is the sort of subject that in the sixties would be covered by the BBC on The Wednesday Play. But they would have used working class characters. Esmond, Jack Watling and Carol Marsh are all improbably posh as a family of council house tenants. It's an emotive film, a polemic. The corrupt officials are incredibly entitled. And the poor get stiffed again.