 A film in three minutes, secrets and lies. Here is a question for you. How many films can you think of that portray day-to-day, ordinary life? Not melodramas with sentimental endings, nor a romantic trist between two big city professionals, but stories that act and feel almost like documentaries. With characters so real, you're left feeling like you've just observed a two-hour family reunion rather than witnessing a work of fiction. Whatever your answer may be, I guarantee you that few films come as close as British director Mike Lee's 1996 masterpiece, Secrets and Lies. A film which beautifully pays tribute to the kitchen sink genre British cinema often excels at, but one that also paints its own unique portrait of modern Britain thanks to the beautiful souls of its class-divided characters. The story follows Hortense, a successful well-to-do optometrist played by Marianne Jean-Baptiste, who decides to trace her family history after the death of her adoptive mother. Gathering the documents she needs, Hortense tracks down her birth mother, Cynthia, played by Brenda Bleffen, who lives a shabby, working-class life with her daughter, Roxanne. Eventually, the two meet and after several painful moments of reconciliation, the pair bond and become good friends. However, this friendship will eventually complicate Cynthia's relationship with her brother, Morris, played by Timothy Spoor, who struggles to run a photography studio whilst his marriage to his wife Monica, played by Phyllis Logan, enters rocky waters as the two struggle to raise a family and reconnect with Morris' sister. For those unaware of Mike Lee's work, Secrets and Lies acts as arguably the best introduction to his craft. Instead of drafting multiple versions of a script and then beginning the casting process, Lee instead works with his actors to build character motivations and scenes, usually starting with only a Fred Bear simplistic premise, and then meticulously and arduously expanding the actor's improvisation until a fully developed story is formed. This process makes Lee unique among the upper echelons of British filmmakers, as his ability for allowing actors to help craft the tiny details as well as the overall narrative of his films grounds them with a deep sense of flying the wall reality. Every actor in the film is wonderfully cast in their own right, delicately balancing between the daily struggles each character faces and their attempts to hide their secrets from the people they love. Timothy Spoor generates great sympathy whenever he interacts with his dishevelled sister or bitter wife, playing a man being pulled in multiple directions by the people most important to him. But Brenda Bleffen steals the show almost from the first scene where she is introduced. Her performance as a mousy, terrified woman whose relationship with her daughter is falling apart is as heart-wrenching as it is believable for countless families in the real world. Its ending is just as cathartic for the viewer as it is for the characters, leaving us feeling more hopeful about any of the differences in attitudes we may have with members of our own family. But it also makes us wonder just how many secrets and lies that could be lurking in our own family history, and whether or not we are as brave as Hortensis to seek them out.