Chicken Run: Dawn of the Nugget (2023) 
Director: Sam Fell
Screenwriters: Karey Kirkpatrick, John O’Farrell, Rachel Tunnard
Starring: Bella Ramsey, Thandiwe Newton, Zachary Levi, Imelda Staunton, Lynn Ferguson, David Bradley, Jane Horrocks, Romesh Ranganathan, Daniel Mays, Josie Sedgwick-Jones, Peter Serafinowicz, Nick Mohammed, Miranda Richardson

On the surface, the original Chicken Run (2000) was a fantastic children’s movie and a feat for animated films. It was 90 minutes of pure feathery fun and righteous chicken anger. The movie had impeccable comedic timing akin to Aardman Studio’s other works like Wallace and Gromit and Shaun the Sheep. These movies have a beating heart and soul that has stuck with children and adults alike because of their ability to wrap us in the warm hug of their respective worlds. And still, beneath it all lies something even deeper, something profound. For many millennials and cuspers, Chicken Run was an introduction to Marxism and revolution itself. 

As rebel chicken, Ginger (played by Julia Sawalha in 2000) rallies the hens against tyrannical farmers, she dares them to imagine a world governed only by their own will. “Don’t you get it?” she clucks, “There’s no morning headcount, no dogs, no farmers, no coops and keys, and no fences.” It’s a powerful cry for revolution – a call to rise up against injustice, no matter the cost. Though the film is filled with slapstick humor, its demand to rage against oppression transcends the children’s animation genre, cementing it as a powerful allegory for World War II and universal demands for human (and chicken) rights. 

Needless to say, the sequel, Chicken Run: Dawn of the Nugget, was highly anticipated by audiences and critics. Nearly 20 years after the original, the follow-up had big shoes to fill. What lessons would the new Chicken Run teach us? Perhaps something about the rise of fascism? Environmentalism? Maybe it would lead us to the answers we’ve all been searching for in these tumultuous times? Unfortunately, Chicken Run: Dawn of the Nugget takes more of a formulaic follow-up approach than broaching anything remotely groundbreaking. 

In this rendition, Ginger (Thandiwe Newton) and Rocky (Zachary Levi, replacing Mel Gibson) return, now living in an idyllic, poultry utopia. Though they are happy in their new homes, they are closed off from the rest of society. Their daughter, Molly (Bella Ramsey), takes after her mother and dreams of life bigger than their confined existence on the island. Soon, Molly escapes to the mainland and finds herself trapped in a chicken factory called Fun-Land Farm. Now, it’s up to the other chickens to break into the factory, a subversion from the previous film’s breakout. 

Dawn of the Nugget isn’t completely without charm. The animation is beautiful and bright, stepping away from the original film’s muted color palate to favor a more vibrant chicken paradise. Fun-Land Farm is garishly bright, showcasing the false promises of the deceptively named poultry plant. Even the heist-like stunts feel higher stakes and more elaborate. There are more hijinks, slipping, falling, and scrambling than ever. 

Though the scale feels dialled up to 11, the film is missing its original creativity and simplistic but resilient spirit that made it an instant classic. Dawn of the Nugget is much more concerned with simple tropes like breaking away from tradition and marching to the beat of your own drum than anything revolutionary. Its simple premise and resistance to taking risks – both thematically and comedically – make the 101-minute run feel like a bit of a slog. 

It’s a lot to ask of a film – to be both a succinct manifesto about the state of modern politics and revolutionary movements and a hokey comedy about chickens falling on their heads – but it has been done before. Perhaps the reason Dawn of the Nugget felt so flat is the enormous shadow its predecessor casts upon the film. And, in the 20 years in between the first and second editions of Ginger and Rocky’s story, we’ve had plenty of time to fill in the gaps on our own. Dawn of the Nugget is a fine movie to turn on for the kids on a Saturday afternoon, but turn on Chicken Run (2000) and you might just have a revolution on your hands. 

Score: 12/24

Recommended for you: Aardman Animation Movies 2000-2020 Ranked

Since making a name for himself as a student Oscar winner of short film, the Yorkshire born filmmaker has worked with the likes of Colin Firth, Ewan McGregor and Michael Caine to offer his unique and often specific stories to audiences of all nations and languages across his six feature films to date, his works being nominated for five BAFTAs and an Oscar, and even winning a César award.

His is a directorial catalogue filled with thematic explorations of class, poverty and capitalism, but one that is equally as likely to make you laugh as it is to cry, his often comedy-tinted approach to the dire circumstances in which he writes his characters bringing about endearing and memorable material time and time again.

In this edition of Ranked, we’re looking at those six feature releases and comparing them in terms of artistic merit and cultural worth to find out which film is the worst, which is the best, and which films fall somewhere in between.

If you have an opinion you’d like to share, please do in the comments below. And don’t forget to tweet us.

6. Hope Springs (2003)

Far from Mark Herman’s most inspired work, Hope Springs suffers from a complete lack of what brings people to the film in the first place: Colin Firth’s charm. The actor, fresh from his endearing performance in Bridget Jones’ Diary (2001), plays a heartbroken thirty-something Brit looking to mend himself in the one place on the map he could point to in the hope of a life-changing break from normality, Hope Springs (USA). The issue is that Firth is all drama, his character portrayed as dejected, beaten and with very little motivation to so much as open his eyes, and it comes in complete contrast to the rest of the film which is vastly more tongue-in-cheek, his American counterparts on the screen being wholly committed to a more comic sensibility. The juxtaposition is at times embarrassing, and what Herman was trying to say with Hope Springs seems muddled at best due to a screenplay which stops and starts narrative threads time and time again. This is a film that could have had a lot to say regarding British pessimism in opposition to American optimism, or even used the protagonist’s vocation as a portrait artist to offer similar explorations of capitalism to those that are available in the filmmaker’s earlier works, but it doesn’t really do either, instead settling for a disjointed romantic comedy with not very much to offer in terms of romance or comedy. Hope Springs is, in almost every element of filmmaking, the worst movie of Herman’s career; an uncharacteristic misstep from a talented artist with far more to offer.

Little Voice (1998)
Director: Mark Herman
Screenwriter: Mark Herman
Starring: Jane Horrocks, Brenda Blethyn, Michael Caine, Ewan McGregor, Philip Jackson, Annette Badland, Jim Broadbent

From the director of 1994 working class drama Brassed Off comes the film adaptation of famed stage musical Little Voice, a distinctly British tale of how the biggest of talents can be present even in the smallest of personalities no matter how close Hollywood may or may not be; a humourous take on classism and dreams of superstardom led by an ensemble of acting masterclasses.

With the recent re-emergence of Judy Garland in the public consciousness courtesy of 2019 biopic Judy, Little Voice perhaps holds a new found charm some 22 years after its release. Renée Zellweger won the award for Leading Actress at the 2020 Oscars for her imitation of the Hollywood icon, and in doing so made it difficult to think of the tragic Hollywood heroine without Zellweger’s well intentioned tribute, and it is similarly remarkable to see how accurately Little Voice’s titular lead Jane Horrocks mimics the singing voice and characterisations of one of the 20th century’s most easily recognisable figures. In Little Voice, Horrocks plays the timid and shy LV just the right side of the endearing-frustrating knife’s edge, but when it’s time for her to kick it into a different gear, she proves herself capable of going all the way as the every-girl living out her dream of being a song and stage icon, her astonishingly accurate tributes to Garland all being performed live and in person by the actress herself, the result being simply jaw-dropping.

Horrocks leads a relatively star studded cast of established names, with Trainspotting and would-be Star Wars star Ewan McGregor playing LV’s love interest, while recognisable British industry talents like Philip Jackson, Annette Badland and Jim Broadbent enrich the viewing experience in their own unique ways despite fairly restricted roles, each bringing their own dash of colour to the character piece.

Screenwriter-director Mark Herman said there was a distinct charm he found in getting to work with famed Hollywood star Michael Caine, who was BAFTA nominated for his performance in this film, one that at first he dismissed as being wrong for the picture but in time grew to be fond of, his inspiration being that Caine’s unmistakable southern accent gifted the character a journeyman quality that illustrated how the further you get away from the opportunities of England’s capital city, the further you must have fallen down the totem pole.

The standout, however, is British character actress Brenda Blethyn as LV’s self-indulgent, grossly extroverted and incomparably loud mother. The seasoned performer, whose previous roles were mostly confined to work on British television, was one of Little Voice’s six nominees at the 1999 BAFTAs and the only member of cast or crew to be nominated at that year’s Oscars, her supporting role stealing the show as a comedic distraction that turns more dark and detestable as the narrative progresses, all the while never losing touch of a distinct sense of a kind-heartedness and goodwill that keeps you rooting for her to finally end her cyclical wrongful behaviour patterns.

Set in the once immensely popular holiday destination of Scarborough, North Yorkshire, Herman and company paint the image of former glory in every frame, the home in which LV lives being above a now closed record shop that her father once owned, the beach-side amusements and events venues lighting up the rainy strip as if a long-lost Las Vegas on its last legs. Scarborough here isn’t treated disrespectfully, but it is made clear that seaside destinations such as this have become something of a forgotten aspect of British culture, the very nature of its inclusion reinforcing LV’s longing for her old life of music and joy, with every supporting character filled with the same nostalgia for a period of their life in which they felt young or successful, filled with promise or just plain comfortable.

While certainly funny, and at times downright cinematic, Little Voice is grounded by this sense of unfulfilled potential and the sadness that comes with the restricted prospects of living in an isolated town filled with a bias towards history rather than its future. As was the case with Brassed Off, Herman establishes a sadness, one that even consumes his characters, but he does so in the context of an acknowledgement that the true sadness lies down the road – his characters learning and growing in such a restricted environment that they seem destined for lives as bad or worse than what they have struggled with thus far, that like their town they are destined to erode and devolve, clinging onto their past all the same. The only hope here is for that of LV, her narrative of overcoming grief insinuating something greater than that of her surroundings even away from the stage, though it is worth noting that even in her triumph she is met by insurmountable obstacles and the need to embrace aspects of her mother’s personality she has come to despise.

Albeit a famed stage show with a history of its own, Little Voice is very much a Mark Herman picture when all is said and done. The film’s embrace of working class culture from a very knowing perspective offers the film something more deep and soulful than the music-inspired romp it is advertised as being, and thus delivers upon the artistic expectations set about by the filmmaker’s work on Brassed Off. With acting talent as phenomenal as this, and a vision so unique and particular as regards the film’s setting and themes, Little Voice becomes a standout British feature from the 1990s, a strong bed-fellow for the likes of The Full Monty, Trainspotting and the aforementioned Brassed Off, its particularly comic way of presenting the harshness of life being a very northern, nay Yorkshire, approach that has only become more unique with every passing year since this film’s release.

Nostalgic, funny, cinematic and deep, Little Voice is a terrifically well performed and well constructed piece of British cinematic history; a peer into the country’s classism and the honesty of the sub-cultures of its oft-forgotten localities, a look into a location and a class representation not at all present in mainstream cinema anymore – ironically a time capsule for a better time.

18/24