David Farnor | On 23, Aug 2025

“I’d like to go to sleep one night not hating myself and to wake up one morning not hating myself.” Those are the heartbreaking words said by Joe (Bobby Schofield) partway through Unforgivable, Jimmy McGovern’s latest drama for BBC One. The reason Joe hates himself is precisely what makes Unforgivable so hard to fathom: Joe abused his nephew, Tom (Austin Haynes). The feature-length drama picks up as Joe is released from prison – and, over the 105 thoughtful minutes, the film’s title becomes as much as question as a statement.

McGovern has long been one of the best writers working today. From police corruption and the justice system to class inequality to religion, he distills social issues into their most human core, finding broken fragments and unfair systems amid pain, grief and, sometimes, hope. Unforgivable is no different, as he charts the impact of Joe’s heinous crime upon the rest of his family: not just Tom, who’s struggling at school and battling trauma, but his father, Brian (David Threlfall), and his sister, Anna (Anna Friel), Tom’s angry, shocked mum. The fact that Joe’s mother has just passed away only adds further hurt to the clan.

Joe is told right from the off that he can’t go to the funeral – his dad blames him, among many things, for breaking his mum’s heart. With Joe unable to find anywhere to stay or any way to reintegrate into society, he is referred to a halfway house run by Katherine (Anna Maxwell Martin), a former nun who serves as part minder and part therapist. Their conversations are the heart of the drama, as she tries to help him with coming to terms with what he did and who he is – juxtaposed with Anna’s scenes with the school headteacher, who cannot provide her or Tom with any kind of support or reassurance whatsoever.

How is it fair that Joe should have such counselling and help and Tom should go without? That’s just one of the many impossible questions the drama poses as the ripples of trauma, anger, loathing and self-hatred spread. “I’m a piece of shit!” Joe says repeatedly, as Katherine helps him to see himself through more compassionate eyes. While his exclamations might sound contrived or manipulative, Bobby Schofield delivers them with a harrowing sincerity, his withdrawn, unreadable performance giving way to unexpected outbursts of anguish. He almost self-sabotages every conversation with Katherine, and Anna Maxwell Martin’s still, patient performance is a masterclass in understated kindness.

Is she right to be moved by his guilt? Does that actually change anything at all for either of them? Should Joe’s family follow suit? And does Joe deserve to get more screen time than Tom?

The drama’s second half adds countless more layers to the ethical ambiguity, as we learn more about what happened to Joe as a child – and shift focus slightly to follow the reaction of his dad, played with moving, gruff subtlety by the always-brilliant David Threlfall. To what degree can someone’s behaviour be blamed on their history? Does abuse always lead to more abuse in the future?

McGovern’s remarkable, mature writing isn’t foolish enough to attempt to answer these dilemmas, and the characters equally grapple with understanding them – as demonstrated by a scene-stealing Mark Womack – or even knowing how to respond at all – as captured by the monosyllabic Austin Haynes. The result is a grim but considered and considerate piece of storytelling that never exonerates the crime at hand, but still looks for the humanity and context underneath the surface. If Netflix’s Adolescence was a stunning flourish of timely TV, Unforgivable is its quiet, intelligent older cousin.

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