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Finally, construction gets its movie.

Finally, construction gets its movie.

It’s the British-made Locke, now playing in major Canadian cities.

The film is about Ivan Locke (actor Tom Hardy), a “construction director,” or project manager, on one of the largest builds in Europe.

The movie opens on the eve of a gigantic pour.

The day’s work is done and Locke kicks off his boots and gets into his BMW for the one and a half hour drive between Birmingham, the project site, and his London home, along the M6 Motorway.

But this will be no ordinary drive.

From the moment he turns on the ignition Locke is consumed by tension-filled personal and professional thoughts, decisions he will have to make over the rest of the evening.

This movie, by any standard, is filmmaking that should have most viewers gripped. But for those in the construction industry, there’s a bonus: it’s filled with construction terminology.

From beginning to end of this story the main character, among other things, is involved in conversation with workmates about the next day’s pour and critical problems leading up to it.

As he pulls out of the site, the camera pans the cavernous hole lit by huge arc lights.

“Trucks rumble and generators roar,” says the script. “This is (Ivan Locke’s) world.”

Once on the road, Locke connects by Bluetooth to his boss, Gareth, leaving a message that “something has come up<0x2026>it’s urgent.”

He then hears from Donal, his assistant.

“I just got your message, it’s a joke right,” Donal says.

Locke tells him he doesn’t have a choice and must abandon the project.

But he won’t abandon it in spirit, and persuades Donal to take hands on control.

“Just from when the sun comes up tomorrow morning until when it’s all been pumped,” Locke says. “I need you to hold it together,” adding he will be on the phone to guide him through.

Donal is beside himself.

“Ivan, at 5:45 a.m. tomorrow morning we have 350 metric tons of wet concrete being delivered to our site. We have 200 trucks from all over the f*%$#@!g country descending on us.”

Locke corrects the numbers. Donal, panicked, cries, calling himself a “concrete farmer” and asks, “Did you ever see me read anything written down on paper?”

“You’re OK,” Locke says. “You know how to run a pump, you know how to run trucks back-to-back and turn trucks back, you know how to test for slumps.”

Gareth calls and says, “This better be good” because it’s just been confirmed the site is “the biggest single concrete pour ever made in Europe outside of nuclear/military projects.”

Locke tells Gareth he won’t be there and Donal’s in charge.

Gareth shouts: “If any one of those pumps f&%$#s up we are facing 10 million pounds worth of losses in 15 minutes.”

Locke later loses his job.

Donal is back on the line, asking about concrete mix, if a little C5 from one firm can be used.

Locke, exasperated, says, “It’s written on the whiteboard in giant letters. I put ‘C6’ all over the cabin in big, red letters. Slump of one inch, C6.”

Other complications arise, such as a weak concrete form (“shuttering”) and no crew to rebuild it, road closures not signed-off, and a late evening call to a councilman who’s angry for being disturbed.

But Locke, always calm and methodical – a true engineer – perseveres.

“Eventually, when my building is complete, it will be

55 floors high,” he says.

“It will weigh two million two hundred and twenty three thousand metric tons. My building will alter the water table and squeeze granite.”