Josh Murray’s review published on Letterboxd:
Holy fuck Terence Davies slaps. I'd say his movies feel like the best most immersive stageplays, but that would diminish how well he uses the camera. This particular Liverpool-set tale is riveting down to its structure, slice of life writ operatic.
Nobody gets how weird group singing is like Davies, who also grants it a clear appeal and communal catharsis. It takes a second to get used to movies where each lyric is less accompaniment than thematically vital part-and-parcel of the thesis. But I guess that's what rewatches are for anyway.
#4 of 1989.