The Farm

The Farm, which should be the symbol of growth and fertility, nurtures only dashed hopes; behind the smell of a good old-fashioned breakfast, there's an odour of waste.  The parlour is stuffed with easy furniture and the collected bric-a-brac of a lifetime.  

David Storey's survey of a Yorkshire family at war with itself is often amusing, but making an absorbing evening of heady compassion and conflict in which, in a very rare way, you cannot fail to feel personally involved and which will remain with you for some time after.