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Manchester by the Sea is reassuring evidence that Hollywood is still capable of producing great dramatic works along with the seemingly infinite comic book blockbuster franchises. Of all the Oscar contenders this season, Kenneth Lonergan’s latest feature must surely be the most understated, and as a result, the most powerful. Lonergan, whose screenwriting credentials include Analyze This and Gangs of New York, directs an emotionally visceral and compelling film which has garnered a string of awards and nominations for its outstanding acting and original screenplay.

The immensely underrated Casey Affleck delivers a subtly sublime performance (surely he will emerge from the shadow of his older brother at last?) as Lee Chandler, a lonely, antisocial janitor with a drinking problem, in a small Massachusetts town. His  monotonous life is capsized by the death of his older brother Joe (Kyle Chandler). When he is made guardian to Joe’s son, Patrick (played brilliantly by the young Lucas Hedges) his solitary existence collides with a role he never imagines he would experience again: parenthood.

Told in a non-linear narrative where current events flow almost imperceptibly into the darker past, the pain of Lee’s character is revealed with unflinching objectivity. As he drags himself from the drunken, misanthropic routine of his present life, he is forced to connect with Patrick and a whole new teenage generation in the process. Casey and Hedges’ interactions provide some of the most authentic and darkly hilarious dialogue of the film as both struggle to adjust to a new domestic setup characterised by masculine tensions and repressed grief.

So much of Manchester by the Sea’s brilliance stems from its meticulous examination of social relations, both of a personal and class nature. Lee and Joe typify the New England working class, whose pastimes include fishing and blowing off steam drinking with friends, while the destructiveness of alcoholism is also shown with Joe’s wife (Gretchen Mol). The central performances are superbly supported by Lee’s former wife (Michelle Williams) who is moving and convincing during her time on screen. The elegiac poignancy is augmented by Lesley Barber’s classical score as well as an impeccably apt soundtrack that mirrors and mocks the misery on-screen. The anachronistic editing gives the film a sense of tragic inevitability and timelessness – this is, after all, a movie about ordinary folks, not grandiose figures. Certainly not the cheeriest in the Academy Award race, but definitely one of the most deserving.