Some ominous police sirens open the film before we join a funeral congregation as a young West Midlands man called Tyrell (played by director Stefan Davis) says a sad goodbye to his father.

A voiceover explores the ideas of “becoming a man” yet despite this solemn beginning, Tyrell then joins his girlfriend Janine (Sadé Davis) in an awkward meet-the-parents encounter over a year later. Despite the lighter tone of the embarrassing situation with Janine's pastor father, issues brought up around the dinner table such as responsibility, religion and tradition draw the audience nicely into the themes that will be further explored later in the film.

Elsewhere Rico (Akeem Gibbs) shows contempt as he fights with his mother and another man Julian (Christian Jae) feels put out of place as he clashes with his step-dad Toby (played by Daniel Alexander), forcing him from his home.

The lack of respect – between family, friends and partners – is a thread running through the first act as different relationship statuses create conflict between individuals. We are also regularly reminded of the power of language – the banter that comes across as put downs and insults show the negative effect they can have despite “jokey” intentions.

The concept of possession is also a topic expressed in many different guises, through phrases like “my girl”, “my house” and “my rules”. It’s never “ours” which shows the fractured outlook in so many of their lives. And often Tyrell’s peers discourage his positive steps, which create a divide rather than a supportive environment.

The Runnymede Trust's recent figures indicate that “in Britain almost two thirds of black families with dependent children are lone-mother households (Owen, 2006)”. And Elliott and Davis go to great lengths to represent these mothers as well. Played with gutso and stoicism by Beverly March (as Jackie), Tonia Daley-Campbell (as Sophia) and Claudette Dawson (as Marilyn) these strong black women struggle with the fallout of their sons’ and daughters’ sometimes questionable actions. 

And later, the film goes into darker territory with drug deals that look an ‘easy’ route to money, yet leave a trail of violence and death in their wake. With so much chaos around him, Tyrell begins to seek solace in the Christian church who can not only help him, but help him to help others.

The film has an abundance of coming-of-age moments akin to John Singleton’s Boyz N the Hood which also explored the lives of young people stuck in harmful environments. And add to that a dash of Barry Jenkins’ Moonlight, we also see a young man struggling to find who he is as he heads into adulthood.

One slight drawback is the multitude of issues it tries to tackle in one swoop – religion, politics, abuse, relationships, violence, drugs, addiction, life, death, family and much much more. It means just as you are drawn into one topic to explore, the audience are unfortunately moved on to another. However, by including so much it does well to represent how just one single act can permeate all aspects of life – and certainly with huge complexity and no easy answers.

As we near the conclusion, The Tale of the Fatherless shifts its focus to the idea of “change from the inside”. In this movie, one route is via the support of religious community and the church. Whether that route is the right one for all, the film’s positive message seems to be more universal; explaining that no matter what cards society may deal you, there are constructive ways out with the right outlook and responsibility.

Dropping resentment and promoting reunification, the movie is first-rate as it looks at difficult and intricate personal and societal issues throughout. And a host of top performances, including a stellar central role by co-director Stefan Davis himself, deliver the film’s weighty subject matter. In the end, despite an (over-)abundance of issues at times, The Tale of the Fatherless successfully speaks to both the head and the heart about issues facing a black community in modern Britain, doing so with understanding, passion and sensitivity.