'Urchin' review: Harris Dickinson's directorial debut humanises addiction and homelessness
Babygirl and Triangle of Sadness star Harris Dickinson makes his directorial debut with Urchin, a raw, humanising portrait of homelessness and the cycle of addiction, which he also wrote and cameos in.
In the film, we meet a valiantly optimistic young Londoner called Mike (Frank Dillane, Fear the Walking Dead, The Essex Serpent), whose attempts to find and maintain secure housing are undercut by a cycle of self-destructive actions and a relapse into substance abuse. As Dillane embodies Mike's personal journey through an impeccable performance, Dickinson brings the statistics to life — according to Financial Times via The Big Issue, one in every 200 households in the UK is experiencing homelessness — while raising awareness of the issue.
Drawing on his own experiences growing up around people experiencing addiction, Dickinson rejects a catch-all representation of a person experiencing housing and financial instability, instead focusing on the elements that make his protagonist's situation unique. The result is a powerful, specific, and vulnerable film about difficult circumstances and vicious cycles.
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What is Urchin about?
Hinging on a complex performance by excellent lead Frank Dillane, Urchin sees Dickinson reject clichés often used to portray people experiencing housing instability. Mike is a lost but charming young man who takes pains to connect with the community, even in the cold bustle of inner-city London. He has semi-secure spots to stash his belongings during the day, and enjoys a chat with everyone from his old friend (played by Dickinson) to charity shop attendants to The Big Issue vendors.
However, when our protagonist commits a sudden, desperate act of violence against helping hand Simon (Okezie Morro), he's arrested, released on probation, assigned temporary housing, and must try to hold down a stressful job in a hotel kitchen to keep a roof over his head. Though Mike tries to get back on his feet, listening to mindfulness CDs and meeting new supportive friends, he's also pulled back into a self-destructive path of old habits and substance abuse as his financial and accommodation options dwindle.
Here, Dickinson dips into the strained UK council system itself through Mike's experiences with government-funded temporary housing. Record numbers of households are living in temporary accommodation in England in 2025, with over 300,000 waiting for requested council support to prevent or relieve homelessness. Mike knows this system of eligibility and priority in and out, and is constantly watching time run out on secure housing, uncertain where he'll be headed next.
But again, it's Dickinson's focus on Mike as a person that humanises such statistics and gives us unique insight into the situation.
Harris Dickinson tells a raw, funny, and humanising story.
While Dickinson undeniably draws inspiration from iconic British filmmakers like Ken Loach, Mike Leigh, and Shane Meadows, his approach and writing is less heavy than his famously bleak social realist predecessors, especially with Dillane's often comedic performance. Dickinson draws on his own experience not only of growing up around people experiencing addiction but also of working with homelessness charities in London. Having grown up in London, Dickinson has worked with shelter Project Parker and with homelessness charity Under One Sky, establishing its Hackney chapter. (Dillane has also worked with Under One Sky and London's Single Homeless Project.) With this knowledge, Dickinson and Dillane manage to find moments of comedy and vulnerability amid the seriousness, boosting Urchin's sense of authenticity.
There's a strong emphasis on Mike's daily London life. Dickinson often has director of photography Josée Deshaies follow Mike from across the street, an effect that sees our protagonist swallowed in the capital's characteristic commotion, or we locate him in the mayhem through a hypnotic slow zoom. Production designer Anna Rhodes and sound designer Ian Wilson craft an instantly familiar London, with street scenes bolstered by the roar of traffic and the sound of an earnest preacher. Dickinson leans sparingly on Alan Myson's mesmerising electronic score, but when it hits, it hits.
Notably, Dickinson doesn't really let us into Mike's past and the complex reasons why a person may become homeless — all we get from the character is "it's complicated." Instead, the director focuses on Mike's fragile present, his water-treading actions — whether they're the best ideas or not. As he attempts to find his footing, Mike is pulled toward old vices that become overwhelming. And it's this inner tension that draws out an exceptional performance from Dillane.
Frank Dillane gives an impeccable performance in Urchin.
Despite being constantly moved along, overlooked, and having to craft his own sense of stability and control, Mike's ability to charm and connect with people even in his darkest days gives Dillane plenty to work with. Mike's emotional and mental state fluctuates throughout the film, but Dillane identifies the moments of levity and humour in Dickinson's script to keep Urchin on its feet.
Where we see Mike at his best is making new friends like Andrea (Megan Northam), whom he meets in a casual litter pickup gig on the South Bank, and his fellow hotel kitchen staff, who deliver the sweetest sequence in the film, involving karaoke, sparklers, and late night hot chips. Dickinson also places emphasis on the disrespect Mike experiences from privileged fellow Londoners, from diners making pompous demands of him to people on the street who are reluctant to acknowledge him at all. In these moments, Dickinson stays with Mike's reaction, fully focused on Dillane conveying Mike's inner turmoil and understandable frustration at forced subservience or invisibility.
Through this complex and distinctive performance from Dillane, captured through Deshaies' exquisite cinematography, Dickinson builds a specific and human portrait of homelessness. The ongoing cost of living crisis and the housing crisis means homelessness is reaching critical levels in the UK, with real people's lives sitting behind each statistic — despite former home secretary Suella Braverman's offensive comments describing rough sleeping as a "lifestyle choice." What Dickinson brilliantly manages to do is simply show one person going through it, attempting to break his cycle of self-destructive behaviour while attempting to find a secure living situation. It's a strong reminder that Mike could be any of us.
UPDATE: Oct. 8, 2025, 2:03 p.m. EDT This article was originally published on Sept. 23, 2025. It has been updated to include current viewing information.
Topics Film
Shannon Connellan is Mashable's UK Editor based in London, formerly Mashable's Australia Editor, but emotionally, she lives in the Creel House. A Tomatometer-approved critic, Shannon writes about entertainment, tech, social good, science, culture, and Australian horror.
