Harris Dickinson’s “Urchin” is a promising debut defined by empathy |

By Claire Wu (February 7, 2026)

Previously known for his roles in popular films like “Babygirl,” “Triangle of Sadness” and “The Iron Claw,” BAFTA-nominated Brit heartthrob Harris Dickinson made his directorial debut with the psychological drama “Urchin.” With “Urchin,” Dickinson demonstrates his artistic prowess beyond his acting versatility, pulling from his own lived experiences while volunteering at numerous homeless charities. Through his lens of empathy, he crafts a compelling narrative following Mike, a homeless youth struggling with the cyclical nature of addiction and incarceration as he traverses the East London streets in search of purpose and connection.

“Urchin” will be screening at the Vogue Theater in San Francisco as part of the 2026 Mostly British Film Festival on Feb. 10. You can purchase tickets here.

The narrative’s first act follows the inciting incident, where Mike, desperate for money after his fickle friend Nathan (played by Dickinson) steals his wallet, beats and robs a man named Simon. Following the assault, Mike is arrested again and sent to prison for eight months. The second act follows Mike’s life after his sentence as he is given temporary shelter at a hostel while he finds work. He gets a job working in a kitchen and even becomes friends with his coworkers; things seem to be looking up for him.

But all his progress collapses at the narrative’s turning point when a mediated reconciliation with Simon forces him to confront the full impact of his assault, when the shame and guilt begin to eat him alive, seeping into every aspect of his life. The meeting with Simon marks the beginning of the end for Mike as he begins to spiral, losing his temper at work and getting fired, relapsing into addiction to cope with his emotions. By the climactic third act, Mike is forced back onto the streets after his hostel stay ends — further leading him into the downward spiral of self-destruction, isolation and oblivion.

“Urchin” is not the usual trauma-porn story about homelessness. As Dickinson himself states, “Stories about addiction, homelessness, and trauma can often feel heavy-handed, so I wanted to weave in comedy too—because with great tragedy often comes humour and levity.” At the same time, he continues, “I didn’t want to make something that undermined the issues of the film or just showed them on a very basic, archetypal level. Working class cinema has the tendency to be bleak at times, and that’s also a reflection of the stories out in the world that need to be told.”

With this balance in mind, Mike feels like a lived-in character. He’s awkward yet charming, hot-tempered and impulsive, but kindhearted at his core. His positive qualities are able to shine through when his basic needs are met, when he’s afforded the chance to be good. But like all humans, he alone is ultimately unequipped to navigate the bureaucratic institutions that fail to provide him stable housing and income, trapping him in a vicious cycle of violence and keeping him on the streets. Actor Frank Dillane also gives a stellar performance as Mike, compelling the audience to root for and fall in love with his character through all his ups and downs, to laugh and cry with him, to embrace his virtues and flaws alike.

In addition to his holistic representation of homelessness and effective exposition that effectively communicates the social conditions and institutional failings that force individuals like Mike into darkness, Dickenson demonstrates auteur promise in his visual style. Sprinkled throughout the films are stunning nighttime shots and sequences where subjects are bathed in colored ambient lighting akin to a classic coming-of-age film. Cool greens and blues denote emotional tension, while warm colors like pink illuminate hope.

Dickinson also experiments with elements of visual motifs and magical realism. Narrative points of tension in Mike’s odyssey are abruptly intercut with serene, scenic shots of nature. The adrenaline suddenly pauses as stills of jagged mossy rocks and sunlit caves invade the screen — then vanish just as suddenly as they appeared, and we are thrust back into reality. Perhaps a representation of Mike’s unchanging, inner, good self amidst his turmoil? Another motif is of a long-haired, old woman who makes a cameo in the film’s first act, then appears to follow Mike throughout the film like an ominous entity. While Mike acknowledges her existence with fear, it is left ambiguous whether or not she is real or simply part of his externalized psyche, slowly beckoning him to the void.

Shot in London by cinematographer Josée Deshaies AFC

Juxtaposed with the film’s realism, these experimental elements can feel out of place, but not enough to fully distract us from the film’s overall impact and message. Regardless of its concrete contributions to the narrative, it’s always refreshing to see filmmakers dabble in the avant-garde and test the waters in arthouse style. In a time where movies feel increasingly didactic and risk-averse, it’s promising to see more established figures like Dickinson resist these pressures and follow their artistic visions, especially given that “Urchin” is his first time directing a feature film.

Overall, “Urchin” is an emotionally resonant directorial debut that weaves a narrative with emotional depth and nuance, inviting compassion and understanding. It’s a piece of art that provokes powerful discussions about homelessness and implores its viewers to directly address the human lives that suffer the worst at the hands of our apathetic, failed institutions.

Claire Wu is a Bay Area local and film noir fanatic who studied English Literature at UC Berkeley. Her favorite directors are Harmony Korine, David Lynch and Billy Wilder. Previously, she has written for The Daily Californian and Mission Local, where she reviewed numerous films and interviewed filmmakers. She also posts media criticism and personal essays on her Substack. You can also follow her on Instagram and Tumblr. She currently resides in San Francisco.