The Work

More than just an advertisement for the process depicted, The Work carries a profound, implicit point about a culture that encourages men to bottle up what they feel, then condemns them after those emotions express themselves in violent, destructive ways.

Opening an aperture into a process so ego-stripping that it feels unseemly to witness, "The Work" is enlightening yet also punishing.

A simple, tense, gritty auditing of a collective unburdening that obviously brings some needed clarity, and the promise of rehabilitation, to some hurt, searching souls.

By simply watching the participants talk about their feelings, sometimes in the vaguest of terms, McLeary illustrates how men build strong façades to conceal their pain from others and themselves.

The movie valuably demonstrates how, for some, when it comes to rehabilitation, it's never too late to do "the work."

Some context is lost in favour of a lot of weeping and wailing, but this remains an eye-opening experience.

The daring approach of McLeary and Aldous' filmmaking, completely immersive without trying to be invisible or to influence the chain of events, is ... proven to have been a risk worth taking.

There is serious work being done in The Work, and much good comes of it.

Never has a 4,000-year-old aphorism seemed more devastatingly of the moment. But the results are inspiring: it seems The Work works.

Sceptics may enter Folsom with suspicion, but these are extraordinary scenes, so shocking and dynamic they might be mistaken for exorcisms.

Incredibly human and filled with a wisdom that only comes from great suffering.

... The Work is a beautiful film, all the more so because of its willingness to step into the fear and find a raw, unremitting beauty in the witnessing of healing.