I reckon the fact that so many nations put this on their awards radar must suggest a lot of resonance with families, not just in Britain, who are having to come to terms with a myriad of contentious circumstances as they try to live day to day. This centres around the drink-loving “Cynthia” (Brenda Blethyn) who lives with a daughter “Roxanne” (Claire Rushbrook) who has a lively rapport with her boyfriend “Paul” (Lee Ross). Then she gets a phone call from a woman calling herself “Elizabeth”. No, not her dead mum but her long-since adopted daughter. Yep, it’s that brutal. Not surprisingly, “Cynthia” is a bit distraught by this news but agrees to meet this woman, a black lady called “Hortense” (Marianne Jean-Baptiste), at a London tube station. Now the latter woman knows of the colour difference, but the former doesn’t and so gets another of what are going to be quite a few shocks as they meet and begin to explore the potential for a relationship. Meantime, her photographer brother “Maurice” (Timothy Spall) and wife “Monica” (Phyllis Logan) are having problems of their own and as the plot develops we begin to appreciate more why the film is called “Secrets and Lies”. It might be a testament to both Blethyn and Baptiste’s performances here, but boy did I dislike both of their characters. The former could whine for her country; a smouldering maelstrom of self-pity all too frequently soaked in booze whilst the latter’s introduction technique to her new-found mother was borderline cruel and oozed a sense of selfish entitlement that really put me off. Thereafter, the story does contrive to ensure that just about every element that could cause dysfunction and depression is on display and believe it or not, the revelation of a thirty-something baby isn’t necessary the most shocking. It’s bleak, but there is some very dark humour here and occasionally even some semblance of hope as their family heads for it’s expected denouement. The photography gives it an observational intensity that at times is potent, at others intrusive, but always it is effective at immersing us in their misery. Did I enjoy this? well, no I didn’t. It is, however, quite a compelling exposé of the toxicity of relationships that drift along untended with heads in the sand and so much meaningfully unspoken and the entirely convincing Blethyn puts her heart and soul into it.