Andrea Dunbar's portrait here is unforgiving; comparable to Joan Crawford in "Mommy Dearest" or Tobias Wolff's brass-knuckled dad in "This Boy's Life."
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What are critics saying?
Moving, bold, unconventional and impeccably staged, The Arbor is a worthy tribute to a powerfully artistic voice.
The New Yorker by Anthony Lane
Barnard's film, as if nervous of being felled by the straightforward, sinewy thump of Dunbar's writing, ducks and weaves in a series of sly approaches. [2 May 2011, p. 89]
The cumulative impact of The Arbor is one of claustrophobia; at times, the endlessly downbeat adventures of Dunbar and her offspring grow almost unbearably morose.
Barnard makes the psychological mayhem Dunbar endured and inflicted tangible.
The New York Times by Jeannette Catsoulis
Like a Ken Loach drama stripped to bare bones, The Arbor springs to life in the bright bitterness of Dunbar's prose, showcased in alfresco performances of contentious scenes from the play.
The Arbor's pummeling second half begins with the collapse of its celebrity subject; the following spirals of self-destruction make you suspect that some childhoods are simply too hard to escape. Tough, worthy stuff.
An innovative hybrid of documentary, staged reading, fictional feature, and confessional, The Arbor defies categorization not merely for art's sake - although its artistry is without question - but because conventional forms seem inadequate for such a harrowing story.
Dramatically spellbinding and intellectually stimulating, picture abstractly manipulates multiple layers of representation to shattering effect.
It helps that the actors' faces are so mesmerizing, particularly Manjinder Virk as Lorraine.