FEW filmmakers have had such an impressive career as Mike Leigh. From Secrets And Lies to Mr Turner, he continuously showcases his uncanny ability to immerse his audience in the authentic, textured lives of people both ordinary and extraordinary, often shining the light on difficult topics that demand attention not being given to them in a proper way, if at all.

His latest is a rousing, powerful polemic that’s unashamedly unsubtle and boundlessly passionate in its outrage and thirst for change. It feels fitting that his most outright political film to date is also his most ambitiously scaled.

There is no shortage of films about the politics of the now, nor a lack of those about famous battles and world leaders giving speeches taught readily in high school history classes. Leigh admirably shines his personable filmmaking light on a far lesser known event in a way that also makes us think about today.

The opening titles plant our feet in the early 19th century, just a few years after Napoleon was defeated at the Battle of Waterloo in 1815, and builds over a deliberately paced narrative towards the Peterloo Massacre at St Peter’s Field in Manchester in 1819.

His film is a sombre invitation to contemplate how little attitudes have changed in some of the most important places.

Much of the runtime is a series of speeches, political outcries and impassioned oratory about the way in which everyday folk are exploited and treated with contempt by parliament.

It’s a meticulously crafted film of talk, then more talk and finally some more talk after that – something of a long history lesson that you weren’t prepared for.

It also speaks with such a thunderous passion and strong will for the need for reform of parliamentary representation towards a shift in general societal fairness; a sense of a collective voice speaking through individuals, each brought to colourful life by a dense script and stellar performances.

The terrific cast includes Rory Kinnear as popular public political speaker Henry Hunt and Neil Bell as radical activist Samuel Bamford. Maxine Peake is the standout in a sea of brilliance, playing tired mother Nellie who has to cope with the return of her war-torn son Joseph (David Moorst) while struggling to maintain hope that words will turn into action and change.

The drama is less convincing when it comes to the portrayal of the villains of the piece which, in comparison to the multi-faceted depiction of the impassioned working man, feel a little cartoonish as they spout “how dare they?!” indignation from upon high, not least the outlandish portrayal of the pompous Prince Regent (Tim McInnerny).

It becomes clear once the film lands at the titular event how shrewd of a narrative construct Leigh’s speech-after-speech approach really is. It lays the groundwork – stopping briefly for peaceful and utterly stunning landscape shots – for a simply stunning extended sequence that, even if you weren’t quite onboard with the repeated soapboxing, makes it all feel worth it.

As jubilation and hope give way to fear and chaos, it becomes a horrific spectacle. Armed with resplendent cinematography by long-time collaborator Dick Pope, Leigh shoots the set-piece with the scope of an epic and the intimacy of a character drama, the camera traversing the pandemonium to tell individual little moments.

The sequence and Leigh’s film as a whole astutely reminds us that people are ultimately at the heart of any cause.