Franky (Vicky Knight) is a nurse who's badly scarred by a fire that happened when she was a child (Knight herself was burned as a child - the scars are real). She believes the fire was started deliberately by her mother's friend, who's now in a relationship with her (Franky's) father from whom she's estranged. Fifteen years on, Franky still dreams of revenge.
In hospital, Franky meets Florence (Esme Creed-Miles), the survivor of a suicide attempt. The two develop a friendship, and later become lovers, though they later break up. Prompted by Florence, Franky's quest for revenge develops into something more tangible.
The rest of the cast have their own stories to tell: Franky's mother, who spends her entire life on the sofa; Franky's sister, who's dabbling with Islam (she has a shawl and a prayer mat, but hasn't cottoned on to the fact that she's no longer allowed alcohol); Florence's grandmother (the excellent Angela Bruce) who has terminal cancer: Florence's brother, who has learning difficulties...
It can't be said that any character in the film is less than three-dimensional, but for me this added up to too many sub-plots and an over-crowded film.
As a depiction of British working-class life it's sharp and observant (without stooping to poverty porn) and the acting is solid throughout - as is the direction.
The ending is not the on the viewer expects, and might leave some disappointed by its slightly ambiguous nature, but I thought it worked well.
