Urchin: We Don’t Win Every Battle, and That Makes Us Human
by Sydney Reyes
You might know the name Harris Dickinson as one of the most popular young Hollywood actors today, starring in big films such as Triangle of Sadness (2023) and Babygirl (2024). This year, Dickinson makes his screenwriting and directorial debut with Urchin (2025), a tender and melancholic feature film. It’s about an unhoused individual named Mike (Frank Dillane), struggling to break his drug addiction. This dependency on substances and lack of money gets him jailed, and the film centres around his time right after, trying to reposition himself in the real world. Amongst counselling, job assistance, staying clean, and meeting new people, Urchin shows us a sympathetic exhibit on the uphill battle that is addiction.
Despite Urchin’s simple, observational, and quiet style, the film is engaging and captivating. In this sense, Urchin reminds me of the film I, Daniel Blake (2016) in how they both offer a true-to-life narrative on social issues in British society. Films like these use social realism to successfully tug at the audience’s heartstrings as we witness the ramifications of addiction and ableism, respectively. There’s something about this immersion that makes the film feel like magic. Even though Mike’s journey and the trials he faces are far from magical, Urchin reels us in, making us want to see how, and if, Mike can defeat addiction.
The success in the delivery of the film’s story lies in Dillane’s perfectly natural and humane portrayal of someone battling addiction and homelessness. His performance is deeply integral to providing a raw and real account of the struggle to reintegrate into a society that rarely changes its mind once it deems you an outcast. Watching Dillane on screen felt like I was watching a person, not a character. He goes through the motions of healing, fighting between resisting and getting defeated by temptation, and hustling through each day. Mike would commit to something but rarely pull through. He’s unreliable, and you catch his lies in his twitches and microexpressions. We try to trust him, but are not surprised when he breaks it. Mike is not lovable—Dillane portrays a flawed, fallen man. Yet this realistic humanness we see in Dillane’s Mike calls for dignity. His performance asks the audience to respect Mike’s journey no matter where he is in the battle against his inner demons.
As mentioned earlier, Urchin has a certain magic to it, but it can get a little lost in this as well. A few scenes tiptoe on the borderlines of fantasy, momentarily bringing us out of the earlier realism of the film. While this works to fill our imagination with what can happen, it also jerks us out of the real world where the film takes place. One can argue that this is meant to show that Mike’s highs can be extreme and the lows are rock bottom, but these bizarre moments make me scrunch my face in contemplation of what’s happening. Altogether, it’s still a good effort to spice up the narrative, adding Dickinson’s distinct touch that I can see continuing into his next films.
Urchin is not a tale of winners, yet it does not ask us to look down on them. It is also not a critique on the external factor that is the system. Dickinson very much focuses on the battle within oneself, the downward spiral can be all-consuming and herculean. He is not afraid to show us the situation for what it is: Overcoming one’s weaknesses is a long, trial-filled and gruelling journey where not everyone is victorious. The film calls on our hearts, reminding us to sympathize with people like Mike. We must not condemn their shortcomings just because they fail to get better. Urchin is a realistic, heartfelt, and impressive debut for Dickinson, who clearly advocates for the stories he is telling. I look forward to his future works that will surely contain this humane and compassionate touch.