Last night I watched Ken Loach’sMy Name Is Joe, which I hadn’t seen since its release in 1998. It’s one of the great cinematic depictions of contemporary Glasgow (others are Red Road, Under the Skin, and, for the Glasgow of my childhood, Ratcatcher). Its only weaknesses are its predictable, melodramatic climax, and the odious presence of professional Glaswegian David Hayman (Has a less talented actor ever been taken so seriously for so long?). But Hayman’s appearances are mercifully few, and...