If Sorry We Missed You doesn’t solidify the filmmaking team of director Ken Loach and writer Paul Laverty as one of cinema’s great champions for the working class, it’ll be a damn shame.

Speaking to modern times once again after a quarter-century of powerful collaborations, the duo’s latest tale of average folk trying to make a better life for themselves amidst oppressive circumstances is exponentially more relevant now with the global economy in crisis mode.

Caught in society’s meat-grinder this time is Ricky Turner (Kris Hitchen), who strives to get his Newcastle family financially back to where they were before the 2008 economic crash delayed their dreams of home ownership.

After a decade of odd jobs, he becomes convinced that becoming a parcel delivery driver is his ticket to success, though the physically-demanding “entrepreneurial” business carries predatory fine print and long hours that have tragic ripple effects on his hard-working traveling nurse wife Abby (Debbie Honeywood), troubled teenage son Seb (Rhys Stone), and kind tween daughter Liza Jane (Katie Proctor).

While the Turners’ hardships — money woes, workplace drama, disobedient kids — are deeply relatable, they feel all the more honest channeled through a cast of relative newcomers whose realistic acting adds a layer of documentary-like authenticity to the proceedings. (It also helps that, unlike Loach’s previous stunner, I, Daniel Blake, their thick Northern English accents are subtitled.)

Likewise key to Sorry We Missed You’s honesty is a decent amount of situational humor, primarily courtesy of Seb's graffiti crew, impromptu arguments involving football allegiances, and everyday family conversations.

But despite these moments of levity and heart, the film’s specialty is heartbreak and hits increasingly hard as its brisk 100 minutes push on, elevating struggling gig economy workers to the hero status they deserve and putting pressure on the powers that be to improve labor conditions immediately.

Grade: A-minus. Not rated, but with adult language, content, and some violence. Available to rent April 1 via Grail Moviehouse and April 3 via the Fine Arts Theatre

(Photo: Kino Lorber)