Even if you were to watch writer/ director Daisy-May’s Hudson‘s debut feature Lollipop with no prior knowledge of her lived experience of homelessness, the grit, texture, and authenticity would still be palpable. Hudson, known for documenting the travails of her family in 2015’s Half Way, provides an intense character study of a mother traversing the UK’s byzantine social care system while expanding into themes of motherhood, resilience, trauma, and mental health. It’s another fine reminder that British social realist cinema is in a far better state than the institutions on which it focuses.

Molly (Posy Sterling) has just been released from prison and assume she’s going to be able to pick up where she left off with her kids Ava (Tegan-Mia Stanley Rhoads) and son Leo (Luke Howitt). She reckons without the brick wall of the social services. Officially homeless, she falls into a cycle of hope and frustrations that threatens her chances of regaining custody. But a chance encounter with old schoolfriend Amina (Idil Ahmed) proves to be an unexpected source of support.

Lollipop is a film that lives and dies by its lead, and Posy Sterling is a force of nature as Molly. As a character, Molly is a blunt instrument, given to outbursts and reash decision making. Sterling finds the nuance and the layers to Molly, finding the subtle details between the dialogue. It’s clear that Molly is determined to focus on the future, given no reason is given for her incarceration, and her past with her family and an abusive partnered are largely inferred from the tumultuous conversations she shares with her alcoholic mother (TerriAnn Cousins). Yet this past has her mired in quicksand.

There is some occasional narrative contrivance, and the inexperience of some of the non-professional actors is noticeable, especially Idil Ahmed’s Amina next to Sterling’s whirlwind. The character writing is however, unimpeachable and bolstered by Hudson’s directorial choices. The faceless bureaucracy Molly endures is amplified in scenes such as her first post-prison interview. The camera stays almost mercilessly on Molly’s face under a barrage of disembodied questions.

Similarly powerful is the camera lingering for a few seconds on the stricken faces of Molly’s children as she’s apprehended for absconding with them. As frustrating and impulsive Molly can be, Hudson roots us completely in the viewpoint of her and her family. It’s easy for the message to dominate, but the director ensures the story consistently engages without it becoming a polemic.

As the likes of Shane Meadows, Andrea Arnold, and Clio Barnard carried on the torch lit by firebrands such as Ken Loach and Karel Reisz, so young filmmakers like Luna Carmoon, Charlotte Regan, and Laura Carreira are part of another generation of talented, impassioned British directors. Daisy-May Hudson is yet another name to be added to that list with a textbook example of the old maxim to write about what you know.

In cinemas from Fri 13 June 2025