Ricky Turner (Kris Hitchen), a former construction worker, is applying for a job as a zero-hours delivery driver for Parcels Delivered Fast! He is interviewed by his to-be boss, the brutish Gavin Maloney (Ross Brewster), a self-titled ‘patron saint of nasty bastards’ that looks like Charles Bronson in a polo shirt. Gavin makes a few things clear. Ricky is, in fact, his own boss, ‘master of his domain’. He isn’t hired, he’s brought ‘on board’. His job isn’t to drive, he ‘performs services’. There are no wages, only ‘fees’. He can either buy or lease his own van, just as long as he meets his deadlines. Gavin gives him a scanner – his own ominously called ‘gun’ – which he is to use to log every item. ‘This decides who lives and dies,’ Gavin says.

Ricky has a family. His wife, Abby (Debbie Honeywood), is also employed on a gig basis, working as a home-care nurse for the elderly and disabled. Having sold her car so Ricky can afford a van, she catches the bus to attend her clients. Ricky and Abby have two children: a compassionate eleven-year-old daughter, Liza Jane (Katie Proctor), and an unruly fifteen-year-old son, Seb (Rhys Stone). Together they live in a small rental home amid a fractious existence of growing conflicts: Ricky’s temper is short, Seb keeps skipping school, and there is never enough money to get by. Yet despite their infighting, the family do seem to love one another.

Ricky (Kris Hitchen), Lisa (Katie Proctor), Abby (Debbie Honeywood), and Seb (Rhys Stone) in Sorry We Missed You (photograph via Icon Films)

As we expect, Ricky soon discovers the pitfalls of his job. If he takes the day off and fails to find a replacement, he is fined £150. If he gets three sanctions for missing work, he’s fired. Insurance covers any items stolen from Ricky’s van – but, as we discover, not everything. Then there’s the logistics of the job itself, which involve maintaining an incredibly time-sensitive schedule. Early on, Ricky’s co-worker gives him a water bottle to piss in. Incredulous, Ricky throws it in the back of his van. ‘You’ll see,’ says the colleague.

Loach, throughout a long career directing more than thirty films, has defined himself as a pioneering commentator on social issues. Once again he collaborates with screenwriter Paul Laverty; it is a partnership that has produced many of Loach’s most acclaimed works. Together the duo has garnered a reputation for creating socially critical cinema, films that take an unflinching look at issues such as class inequality, poverty, and oppressive authoritarian systems. Two of their early films, Carla’s Song (1996) and My Name Is Joe (1998), feature two love stories amid tough times in Glasgow. The Wind That Shakes the Barley (2006), winner of the Palme d’Or at Cannes (and arguably their best), is a powerful insight into Ireland’s fight for independence from Britain. And the aforementioned I, Daniel Blake is perhaps their most well-known, a tale of the eponymous Daniel Blake’s struggle against the Kafkaesque bureaucracy between him and welfare payments.

At its simplest, Sorry We Missed You is a return to the themes of I, Daniel Blake, with Loach and Laverty shifting their focus from the welfare state to the booming gig economy. ‘The world of work is literally changing before our eyes,’ Laverty says in an interview. ‘There’s the technological revolution, retail is changing, city centres are closing, shops are closing, and things are being delivered to people’s homes.’ The result is an unprecedented demand for couriers, an army of provisional employees who, largely unregulated, have little to no job security, union protection, or workplace rights.

The film focuses on the precarious instability of this new norm of widespread, temporary work, and brings attention to the people struggling beneath it. Loach and Laverty spent a lot time with ‘zero-hours employees’ in roles such as Ricky’s or Abby’s. They were told horrifying stories: people urinating in bottles, severe mental health issues, unfeasible working hours, workers skipping medical requirements to maintain quotas – in one case, a man even died from having to skip doctors’ appointments for his diabetes. Large corporations – Amazon and Uber come to mind – capitalise on this business model and closely monitor their employees’ efficacy. For Ricky, each iota of his schedule is logged, recorded, and scrutinised. There is no time to rest, think, or even take a piss.

Ricky (Kris Hitchen) in Sorry We Missed You (photograph via Icon Films)

Sorry We Missed You can also be viewed as a condemnation of the precarious global financial system that contributed to the gig economy in the first place. The economic collapse of 2008 – caused by reckless bank lending – features in the film as the reason Ricky lost his former construction job and why the Turners had to forgo their mortgage. The financial downturn had far-reaching ramifications for the working class in the Unites States and beyond; it pushed many people already living in unstable circumstances into temporary, unreliable employment. For Ricky, in debt and with a family to support, the violent caprices of such a gig economy quickly throw his life into disarray.

The film proceeds along this disastrous trajectory, with Ricky and his family becoming increasingly mired in worsening circumstances before culminating in an unforgettable closing scene. Though somewhat predictable, the narrative nonetheless is evocative and powerful. Unremittingly tense, Sorry We Missed You depicts the slow grind of one family’s inevitable downfall. Through brief, there are moments of levity: in one scene, Abby sits on the floor while an elderly client of hers, who has dementia, brushes her hair – for a short time, there is a pause, a space to take a breath.

While I, Daniel Blake leaves you with a sense of urgency, a cause to rally behind, this isn’t the case here. Feeling uplifted isn’t the point. Instead, you endure the strain, the true burden of a harsh existence, of confronting one obstacle after another with no respite. After watching Sorry We Missed You you’re likely to let out a breath, one you didn’t realise you were holding, and sit in silence for a while. It’s an indication, if anything, of a director and a screenwriter at the top of their game.

Sorry We Missed You (Icon Films), directed by Ken Loach, is in cinemas December 26.