‘Help’ on Acorn TV: The Most Powerful Drama Of 2022 So Far

An unflinching TV drama about a nursing home decimated by COVID-19, British feature-length Help — available to stream on Acorn TV — is undoubtedly a hard sell. Who wants to be reminded of the uncertainty, the panic and the sheer futility of the pandemic’s early stages as they sit down for their evening’s entertainment? Yet those who do will be rewarded with the most vital piece of fiction to address the subject, bolstered by a hugely committed lead performance which deserves to be showered with awards. 

Initially, the most startling thing about Help is hearing Jodie Comer’s native accent, her genial Liverpudlian tones a far cry from the detached Russian of Killing Eve’s Villanelle. Our gateway into the fictional Bright Sky Homes, her character Sarah thankfully doesn’t have anything in common with the ruthless assassin, well apart from an unwillingness to take any shit: she’s first shown telling well-intentioned boss Steve (Ian Hart) to stick his job after he takes his antagonizing interviewing technique a little too far. 

However, thanks to a kind gesture from youngest resident Tony (Stephen Graham), a 47-year-old Liverpool FC obsessive with early onset Alzheimer’s, Sarah decides to accept the care assistant position. And despite the skepticism of her unsupportive parents and an understandable aversion to the bright yellow holiday camp-style uniform, she appears to thrive in the environment, bonding with residents over terrible jokes and similar problem child backgrounds. She also quickly proves her worth, convincing Tony to return home after a midnight escape to see the mum he’s forgotten has long since passed away. 

But Help’s relatively light-hearted tone quickly shifts into something far more hard-hitting following a radio bulletin about the UK’s first COVID fatality. Sarah barely appears to take in the news as she drives to work, quickly changing the station to blast out a bit of Dua Lipa. Within days, though, she and the rest of her overworked colleagues have found themselves at the frontline of the battle against the virus. 

Amidst frustratingly conflicting information about, and a criminally severe shortage of, PPE, Bright Sky valiantly attempts to keep the disease at bay: visitors are banned, shared living spaces are shut off and in a nice nod to the Liverpool setting, residents are told to wash their hands while singing two verses of Gerry and the Pacemakers’ “Ferry Cross the Mersey.” Nevertheless, such protocols can’t stem the inevitable tragedy. 

Even though we all know the horrors about to unfold – the coughing fits, the struggles for air, the constant undertaker visits – it’s still shocking to see them play out. Yet the less explicit moments pack an equally emotional punch. The name of the first to be infected (played by local screen legend Sue Johnston) being quietly removed from her front door, for example. Or the sight of a sanitizing bomb spraying across another victim’s completely empty room while a discordant drone ratches up the tension to almost unbearable levels. 

Creator Jack Thorne (His Dark Materials) does allow most of the afflicted to die with dignity off screen. But it’s the most intrusive scene, shot in an astonishing docu-realist 26-minute single take, which elevates Help into something truly remarkable. Comer is nothing short of phenomenal as the only nightshift worker on duty and therefore the only chance of survival for the elderly man who appears to be gasping for his last breaths. 

As she flits between his room and the eerily quiet corridors, dressed in a refuse sack and desperately trying to convince the fully-stretched emergency services that care homes are still worthy of an ambulance call, the sense of helplessness almost becomes too much to withstand. “I’m sorry Kenny, no one’s coming,” may well be the most utterly heart-wrenching line you’ll hear this year.  

After spending an hour in such claustrophobic conditions, it’s something of a relief that Help’s third act pushes the drama into the great outdoors. Though while it’s a joy to see two of Britain’s finest acting talents share more of the screen together, Comer and Graham’s two-hander feels like it’s been tacked on from a completely different, and more sensationalized, production. 

Thorne, who also guided Graham’s superlative performance in child abuse drama The Virtues, does, however, bring things down back to Earth just in time for an impassioned closing monologue about the British government’s handling of the pandemic. “Us and them, underlying health issues, when did our lives stop being the same, eh?” Sarah furiously asks while directly addressing the camera. The sobering statistics which then flash up on screen (40% of COVID-19 deaths between March and June 2020 were care home residents, only 10% of care homes’ PPE needs were met) undeniably back up her argument.

Yes, you do need to be in a particular type of mood to watch it, and yes, you’ll probably need a good lie down after the credits roll. Even with the flashes of dry humor and displays of genuine kindness, Help is an unapologetically difficult, and often harrowing, watch. Yet it’s unlikely you’ll be able to divert your eyes. This is the kind of public service broadcasting that deserves to be viewed not just as an urgent piece of filmmaking but as a true testimony of our times.  

 Jon O’Brien (@jonobrien81) is a freelance entertainment and sports writer from the North West of England. His work has appeared in the likes of Vulture, Esquire, Billboard, Paste, i-D and The Guardian.