Background & Production

“I Really Hate My Job” is a 2007 British independent comedy film that emerged from writer Jennifer Higgie’s own experiences waiting tables​

Higgie, a novelist and first-time screenwriter, spent years working in restaurants and felt she had to “write a film about her experiences or shoot herself,” as she jokingly put it​

She channeled those anecdotes of rude customers, rat-infested kitchens, and the dreams of creative coworkers into a screenplay, shaping an ensemble story set in a single Soho café. Higgie’s brother Andrew Higgie came on board as a producer, helping turn her collected tales into a film​

The project was originally titled Waiting, reflecting how all the characters are figuratively and literally waiting for something exciting to happen in their lives​

Eventually renamed I Really Hate My Job (after the all-too-relatable refrain), the film was directed by Oliver Parker – known for British comedies and literary adaptations – and produced by 3DD Productions on a modest budget​

Parker was drawn to Higgie’s script for its mix of humor and pathos; he praised her talent for writing scenes that are “laugh out loud funny one instant but then heart-wrenching the next,” capturing the ups and downs of real life​

Principal photography took place in London, primarily in a cramped restaurant setting that gives the film an intimate, almost stage-play quality. Cinematographer Tony Miller was tasked with making this single-location film visually engaging, using the tight kitchen and dining room spaces to heighten the sense of pressure and claustrophobia the characters feel. The film debuted at the Transilvania International Film Festival on June 2, 2007​ and had its North American premiere at the Seattle International Film Festival that same month​

However, despite these festival showings, I Really Hate My Job struggled to secure wide theatrical distribution. It ultimately went direct-to-video in several markets by 2008​, a fate not uncommon for small indie comedies. In fact, the movie sat in limbo for years in some regions – it wasn’t released on DVD in the UK until 2014, a “real shame” in the words of one reviewer, given the film’s merits​. This limited distribution meant I Really Hate My Job never found a large audience on initial release, but it gradually reached viewers through DVD, cable (it aired on the Sundance Channel)​, and streaming platforms.

Plot Summary

Set over the course of a single hot summer evening, I Really Hate My Job follows five women working at an unruly little restaurant in London’s Soho district. What appears to be an ordinary night quickly turns chaotic: the head chef is missing (too drunk to work), leaving the kitchen understaffed, and the establishment is fully booked with diners – including, rumor has it, a famous Hollywood actor expected to arrive later​. Alice (Shirley Henderson), a melancholy aspiring novelist in her mid-30s, normally just a kitchen hand, is begged by the harried maître d’ to step up as chef for the night​. Desperate for extra cash, Alice reluctantly agrees, even though her confidence is low – she’s just learned that her long-gestating novel was rejected by her agent for being “a saxophone solo of misery”​. In the front of house, Abi (Neve Campbell), an American waitress and struggling actress, shows up late on her 30th birthday, though she pointedly only confides the birthday to Alice (“I needed to tell someone older,” she quips)​. Abi is having a terrible day: she’s been dumped by her boyfriend, her power’s been cut off, she’s broke, and as a last resort she’s considering a dubious role in an art-house adult film just to pay bills​. As the night wears on, Abi increasingly hits the bottle and lets her frustrations boil over, snapping at customers and sparring with her co-workers​. This puts her at odds with Madonna (Anna Maxwell Martin), the young, lovesick maître d’ who is barely holding things together while fearing her own girlfriend might be about to break up with her​. Tensions erupt when Madonna, already on edge, finally explodes and accuses Abi of being self-centered, sparking a series of bitter confrontations in the dining room​. Meanwhile, the other waitress, Suzie (Alexandra Maria Lara), provides a gentler counterpoint. Suzie is a dreamy art student and aspiring photographer – “possibly psychic” and definitely romantic – who spends the evening philosophizing with Abi about topics ranging from love and music to the merits of porn as art​. Suzie’s calm, idealistic outlook and her nostalgia for 1930s crooner Al Bowlly make her a foil to Abi’s cynicism and anger​. In the steamy kitchen downstairs, Alice struggles to cook for a packed house in a rat-infested environment, all while enduring a relentless barrage of personal questions from Rita (Oana Pellea), the dishwasher​. Rita is a Chilean immigrant and proud communist who peppers Alice with probing inquiries about her sex life and literary ambitions, much to Alice’s exasperation​. The two women couldn’t be more different – Alice is anxious and insecure, whereas Rita is blunt, earthy, and fearless – yet over the course of chopping vegetables and dodging vermin, they bond in unexpected ways. They bicker, laugh, cry, and even dance a samba together amidst the dirty dishes​. Rita turns out to be both wise and infuriating: she extols the importance of possibility in life and complains about the restaurant’s problems (the unchecked rat problem, and Madonna’s lack of respect for the “workers”) with equal fervor​. We learn Rita has her own dramatic life story – she plans to leave her London life (and unseen husband) to return to Chile, reuniting with an old flame who has just been released from prison and opened a socialist bookshop​. As the evening progresses, each woman reaches a breaking point. Alice eventually cracks under the pressure and confides in Rita that her book was rejected, a moment of vulnerability that draws the two closer​. Abi’s spiral of disappointment continues as she waits eagerly for the rumored celebrity guest, fantasizing that his arrival could be her big break​. That celebrity is Danny Huston (playing a version of himself), whose party finally shows up late in the night – only to consist of two elderly musician friends of his, including an octogenarian triangle player​. Abi, expecting a glamorous star entourage, grows impatient and rudely insults the old gentlemen, who promptly leave in a huff before Huston even arrives​. This outburst triggers a confrontation in the kitchen between Abi and Madonna, a clash of egos and frustrations among the pots and pans​. Unbeknownst to them, the famous actor does eventually show up – Danny Huston slips in quietly, but departs while Abi is distracted fighting, meaning she misses him entirely​. When Suzie gently informs Abi that Huston came and went, Abi is crushed​

This disappointment, atop all her other woes, pushes her to an emotional breakdown. In a dramatic climax, Abi marches into the dining area and, in the middle of dinner service, strips completely naked in front of the remaining patrons​

(Yes, Scream star Neve Campbell goes fully nude in a public meltdown – a scene that certainly got people’s attention​) Abi stands bared and vulnerable, demanding that the stunned diners give her life advice: “What should I do with my future?” she pleads, as her co-workers watch in horror​

Unsurprisingly, most of the customers quickly flee the restaurant (many without paying or tipping) rather than indulge her crisis​. With the café now empty and the situation untenable, Madonna has no choice but to fire Abi on the spot. Dejected, Abi gathers her clothes and prepares to leave, feeling that this hellish night has ruined any chance of happiness. At that very moment, however, something magical occurs. Abi bumps into Danny Huston himself in the doorway – he has returned to look for a misplaced libretto (sheet music)​. In a whimsical twist, Huston is now dressed in full 1930s attire – tuxedo, top hat, tails – looking every bit like the ghost of Al Bowlly, the singer Suzie adores​. As the astonished women look on, the lights dim, taking on a sepia tone, and Huston launches into a charming rendition of the Al Bowlly classic “Love Is the Sweetest Thing.” He sings and dances for them right there in the empty restaurant, turning a mundane night into a surreal Hollywood moment​. The five women are mesmerized by this gentle, nostalgic performance – it’s a moment of beauty and respite amid their misery​. Huston finishes the song, leaves behind a small bouquet of violets for the ladies, and exits into the night as mysteriously as he appeared​. For a moment, the stunned staff wonder: was that real?“Is he a ghost? A hallucination?” one character asks, reflecting the film’s brief dip into magical realism​. Whether real or imagined, the encounter becomes a catharsis for the women, a shared experience that rekindles their camaraderie and hope. It’s as if “witnessing something mysterious and beautiful” has liberated them emotionally​. With the restaurant now closed after this bizarre finale, Madonna has a change of heart. She decides the cleanup can wait until tomorrow and even rescinds Abi’s firing in light of the extraordinary circumstances​. Suzie cheerfully suggests they all go out for Bellinis (cocktails of peach puree and champagne) to salvage what’s left of the night​

In the film’s uplifting final scene, the five women – including a now-humbled Abi – leave the dark basement café together, climbing the stairs toward the bright lights of Soho and a new day​. They may still “really hate” their jobs, but in that moment they’ve rediscovered friendship, laughter, and a glimmer of optimism to carry them forward. The film ends on this note of hard-won hope, suggesting that even a nightmare shift can lead to a better tomorrow.

Cast & Performances

The five lead characters of I Really Hate My Job (2007) – from left: Abi (Neve Campbell), Madonna (Anna Maxwell Martin), Alice (Shirley Henderson), Suzie (Alexandra Maria Lara), and Rita (Oana Pellea)​

The film’s ensemble cast is one of its strongest assets, bringing together a diverse group of actresses who each create a distinct and memorable character. Neve Campbell stars as Abi, the sharp-tongued waitress whose simmering desperation drives much of the drama. Campbell, best known for her Hollywood work in the Scream franchise, here pokes fun at her own star image by playing a struggling actress on the verge of giving up. She captures Abi’s cynicism and vulnerability in equal measure – from sarcastic barbs aimed at customers to the raw anguish of her late-night breakdown. Campbell fully commits to the role’s demands, including the much-discussed scene where Abi strips naked in the restaurant. That shocking moment could have come off as gratuitous, but Campbell imbues it with genuine pathos – it’s the act of a woman at her wit’s end, and she makes you feel Abi’s humiliation and release. While some viewers mainly remember the film “for the fact that Neve Campbell strips off during a full dinner service”, her performance offers more than just that jolt; she balances the character’s fiery tantrums with flickers of regret and tenderness, especially in scenes opposite Suzie and Rita.

Shirley Henderson delivers a standout turn as Alice, the hapless pseudo-chef and aspiring writer. Henderson (famous for roles in Bridget Jones’s Diary and as Moaning Myrtle in Harry Potter) is often praised for her ability to play endearingly neurotic characters, and Alice is no exception. Here she gives a “soft-hearted yet manic depiction of a woman without a clue what to really do”, as one critic put it​. With her gentle, tremulous voice and expressive eyes, Henderson makes Alice the comedic heart of the film – whether she’s frantically shooing rats out of her kitchen or nervously trying to improvise a gourmet entrée. At the same time, she brings a touching sincerity to Alice’s emotional moments, like the scene where she confesses her literary failures to Rita. Many reviewers singled out Henderson’s performance; Entertainment Focus noted that she “steals the film” with the way “she wings it throughout” the chaotic night, making it delightful to watch​. Indeed, Henderson’s Alice often feels like the audience surrogate – overwhelmed by the madness yet soldiering on with wry humor – and her chemistry with Oana Pellea’s Rita in the kitchen scenes is a highlight.

Alexandra Maria Lara plays Suzie, the other waitress, lending the character a serene, almost ethereal quality. Lara, a German-Romanian actress known for Downfall and Control, portrays Suzie as sweet-natured and slightly enigmatic. Suzie believes in art, romance, and even a touch of clairvoyance, providing a calming yin to Abi’s raging yang. Lara’s performance is understated but effective; through gentle smiles and a thoughtful gaze, she convinces us that Suzie might truly be sensing deeper vibrations (at one point Suzie eerily predicts the chaos to come). She also handles the comic beats well – for example, Suzie’s earnest obsession with 1930s singer Al Bowlly is both funny and oddly poignant, especially when her dream of seeing a bit of old-school glamour comes true via Danny Huston’s number. While Suzie could have faded into the background amid louder personalities, Lara makes her a quietly compelling presence, the kind coworker who listens and offers unexpected wisdom. Several non-English commentators appreciated this nuance; a Spanish reviewer described the character interactions as “verborrea de complicada digestión” (dialogue that’s hard to digest) but noted the interesting dynamic of personalities​– in which Lara’s serene Suzie certainly plays a crucial balancing role.

Anna Maxwell Martin brings both humor and tension as Madonna, the restaurant’s manager (maître d’). Martin, a two-time BAFTA-winning British actress, is adept at playing tightly wound characters (Bleak House, Line of Duty), and here she infuses Madonna with an anxious energy beneath a professional exterior. At the start, Madonna is all forced smiles and efficiency, expertly “manager-ing” crises (as one Romanian critic noted, she’s “bine pusă la punct în ceea ce privește managerierea situațiilor de criză” – well versed in managing crisis situations​. But as the night unravels, Martin peels back Madonna’s composed front to reveal desperation and heartbreak. Her shouting match with Campbell’s Abi is one of the film’s dramatic peaks – Martin’s usually controlled voice cracks as Madonna vents years of frustration, showing that the boss who tries to keep everyone in line is herself barely hanging on. Yet, she also mines comedy from Madonna’s quirks, like her attempt to perform a Buddhist prayer over a dead rat to calm the dining room​, and her deadpan acceptance of absurdities (by the end, she’s so exhausted she calmly announces they’ll deal with the wreckage tomorrow). Martin’s performance earned positive marks for adding depth to what could have been a one-note “uptight boss” role. In ensemble scenes, she often acts as the reactive foil – eye-rolling, scolding, or pleading for sanity – and her timing meshes well with the rest of the cast.

Oana Pellea, one of Romania’s most respected actresses, plays Rita, the feisty dishwasher with revolutionary fervor. Pellea brings a bold physicality and theatrical flair to Rita – she doesn’t just wash dishes, she slams them around while monologuing about socialism and existential philosophy. Rita is the oldest of the group and often the comic relief, with her blunt observations and thick accent. Pellea’s performance garnered mixed responses: some viewers (especially in Romania) loved her portrayal, with one Romanian critic highlighting how she, alongside Henderson, delivers “roluri de zile mari” (great performances) in the stifling, mouse-plagued kitchen​. They found her wisecracks and world-weary insight added texture to the ensemble. However, another Romanian viewer felt Pellea was “total neadecvată” (totally unsuitable), criticizing her style as overly stage-like and her English line delivery as baffling​. It’s true that Rita comes off as theatrical – in a film that often feels like a stage play, she is perhaps the most “stagey” element – but others might argue that’s part of the character’s charm as an over-the-top agitator. Regardless, Pellea shares a warm, believable camaraderie with Henderson; their odd-couple friendship (the neurotic Brit and the outspoken Romanian) provides the story’s emotional backbone. When Rita counsels Alice about embracing possibility in life, or when she finally gets Alice to dance and laugh amid the chaos, Pellea makes those moments feel earned. Her presence also grounds the film’s theme of worker solidarity – Rita is the one constantly reminding everyone of the value of the “little people” keeping the place running.

Finally, Danny Huston appears in a cameo as himself (or rather a magical-realist version of himself). For most of the runtime, his character is an unseen off-screen legend the staff are buzzing about. When he does show up in the final act, Huston gamely lampoons his own suave image, donning a vintage persona to serenade the astonished women. In his brief screen time, Huston exudes an old-school charm and subtly tongue-in-cheek humor – essentially playing both Danny Huston and Al Bowlly’s ghost. That sepia-toned song-and-dance number he performs in a top hat is a delightful oddity; as one critic quipped, “Yes, you read that sentence correctly”​ – it’s a highlight precisely because it’s so unexpected. Though Huston’s role is small, it serves as the story’s catalyst and emotional turning point, and he carries it off with enough sincerity to sell the film’s whimsical climax. The supporting bit players in Huston’s party, including veteran actor Barry Morse (in one of his final roles) and Nathaniel Parker (Oliver Parker’s brother, making a cameo as a patron), add a touch of extra color in their fleeting appearances.

Collectively, the cast’s performances were well-received even by critics who found faults elsewhere. Many reviewers agreed the five lead actresses formed an effective ensemble, portraying a believable mix of personalities united by the drudgery of their job. The dialogue-heavy script relies on their chemistry and timing, and they largely deliver. As an Australian review noted, “despite excellent performances, it’s all ‘pretend’” in terms of the script’s authenticity​ – a criticism of the writing, not the acting. Indeed, the actresses breathe as much life as possible into the sometimes exaggerated scenarios. In short, the cast of I Really Hate My Job turns what could have been a static, talky piece into a lively character study. Each woman carves out her own identity: the fiery dreamer (Abi), the frazzled idealist (Alice), the gentle romantic (Suzie), the stressed organizer (Madonna), and the outspoken sage (Rita). Watching these contrasting characters collide and collaborate is where the film finds its most enjoyable rhythm, thanks to the committed performances.

Cinematography & Direction

Directing a film that takes place almost entirely in one restaurant – half of it in a cramped basement kitchen – is no easy task, but Oliver Parker approaches it by emphasizing performance and playful style. Parker, who co-directed the flashy St. Trinian’s reboot the same year, shifts gears here to an intimate single-set piece. He treats the material a bit like a stage play, leaning into long dialogues and group scenes where the camera observes the dynamics between characters. In fact, one Spanish critic noted the film feels like “formas de representación casi teatral” – an almost theatrical form of presentation – which they found interesting but ultimately “sobrecargante” (overbearing) due to the script’s excesses​. Parker’s challenge was to keep a talk-driven film visually engaging. Tony Miller’s cinematography uses the tight quarters to the film’s advantage: the camera often frames multiple characters together in the same shot, highlighting the claustrophobia and chaos of the environment. In the sweltering kitchen scenes, you can almost feel the heat – the shots are a bit frenetic, with quick cuts of chopping and stove flames, conveying Alice’s stress. When the action moves to the dining area, the visuals open up slightly, but Parker still keeps a close, intimate lens on the actors, reinforcing that fly-on-the-wall feeling of watching real workers slog through a busy night. There are moments of stylistic flourish that break from realism – most notably the climactic Danny Huston musical sequence. Here, Parker and Miller bathe the scene in sepia-toned lighting to evoke a 1930s dreamscape​. The camera swirls around Huston as he dances, momentarily transforming the gritty café into a stage from a bygone era. It’s a bold directorial choice that injects a burst of visual whimsy into an otherwise grounded film, and whether it charms or confuses the viewer may come down to personal taste (FilmInk cheekily suggested “if you must [see the film], see it just for the sepia-toned song and dance sequence performed by Danny Huston in a tuxedo and top hat”.

Parker also isn’t afraid of silences and close-ups when appropriate. After Abi’s stripping outburst, for instance, there’s a quiet, lingering shot of the stunned restaurant – tables askew, half-eaten dinners left behind – that really sells the mortifying fallout of her actions. Such moments show a confident hand in letting the scenario breathe. However, some critics felt Parker’s direction couldn’t overcome the script’s weaknesses. A critique in Urban Cinefile argued that “a lack of genuine observation continues to dog the film” despite Parker’s efforts, implying that the direction failed to make the situations feel truly authentic​. The film sometimes struggles tonally: it starts as a breezy workplace comedy, veers into farcical chaos, and then attempts heartfelt drama and surreal fantasy. Parker does manage to hit those beats occasionally – as Entertainment Focus observed, the film “manages to hit [the serious] points occasionally yet still feels light and fluffy for most of the film”​. Depending on one’s perspective, that can be a plus or minus. On one hand, the relatively light touch keeps the film enjoyable and not overly ponderous. On the other, it can undercut the stakes; the reviewer felt it “needed to be harder on” the characters and dig deeper into their issues​. Parker’s background in comedy certainly shows in the snappy timing of many exchanges and some visual gags (like that pesky rat popping up at the worst times). But when the story pivots to emotional confrontation, the transition isn’t always smooth. The director himself commented on the film’s mix of tones, noting that Higgie’s script was “most definitely comedic” but also “very moving and dramatic”, and that he loved how it could be “funny one instant but then heart wrenching the next”. This ambition to balance comedy and drama is admirable, but not all reviewers were convinced the balance was achieved. A Spanish-language review observed that the film “entra de lleno en un terreno resbaladizo” – it slides into a slippery territory – of trying to showcase a lot of verbose, showy drama that can be hard to digest. The result, they argue, is that Parker “quiere construir una película donde manden las interpretaciones pero se le olvida el conjunto, el ritmo” – he wants a performance-driven film but forgets about the whole, the rhythm​. This critique suggests that while each scene might work on its own (thanks to the actors), the overall pacing and cohesion suffer.

Visually, the film isn’t aiming for grand cinematography, but it effectively creates the “second-rate London restaurant with delusions of grandeur” that the script describes​. The production design deserves credit for authenticity: the kitchen is cluttered and a bit dingy, the kind of place with temperamental appliances and a lingering smell of grease, whereas the dining area aspires to elegance but is clearly past its prime. These details reinforce the theme of unfulfilled aspirations (a restaurant dreaming of being five-star, staffed by people dreaming of bigger lives). When it comes to the editing (by Mary Finlay), the film alternates between brisk, overlapping dialogue sequences – evoking the hectic rhythm of dinner rush – and slower, introspective beats, like Alice alone in the pantry reading her rejection letter. There are a few jarring edits (some viewers felt certain cuts were abrupt or odd, possibly due to trimming for pacing), but nothing too disruptive. One Spanish viewer did complain that it was “filmat prost, tăiat aiurea” – poorly shot and cut randomly​ – though this seems to be a harsh outlier opinion.

Overall, Oliver Parker’s direction and Tony Miller’s cinematography succeed in creating a confined world that feels believable and appropriately chaotic, even if the film’s stagey roots are often evident. The decision to inject a surreal musical finale is a daring directorial flourish that sets the movie apart from a typical comedy, underlining its message about imagination and escape (Parker noted that the sequence “suggests that imagination and music provide solace in everyone’s life”. Not everyone will appreciate that stylistic swerve, but it’s certainly memorable. In summary, I Really Hate My Job is directed with a clear affection for actors and an eye for the little absurdities of working life; while it may lack a certain polish or cinematic grandiosity, its intimate approach and occasional flights of fancy give it a unique vibe – part kitchen-sink realism, part whimsical fable.

Reception & Box Office

Upon release, I Really Hate My Job garnered a mixed-to-negative reception from critics and struggled to make a dent commercially. On Rotten Tomatoes, the film has a very low 23% approval rating (based on a handful of reviews)​. In fact, only 3 critic reviews are listed on Rotten Tomatoes – indicative of how little exposure the film got in the critical mainstream. Those who did review it tended to admire the cast but found the execution lacking. Marina Pliatsikas of FILMINK (Australia) gave a lukewarm take, essentially advising, “if you must [watch it], see it just for the sepia-toned song and dance sequence performed by Danny Huston… Yes, you read that sentence correctly.” Her tongue-in-cheek remark highlights that the Huston musical number was the most noteworthy aspect in an otherwise forgettable experience. Andrew L. Urban of Urban Cinefile was more blunt, lamenting the film’s “lack of genuine observation” – despite the “excellent performances” – and saying “it’s all pretend”, implying the situations didn’t ring true​. Another critic commented that at first glance the project had much going for it (fine cast, relatable premise), “though appearances can be deceptive”; ultimately, they found the film underwhelming​. In contrast, a UK DVD review by Entertainment Focus in 2014 offered a more positive perspective, calling it “a nice light-hearted flick” with interesting character study elements​. That reviewer noted the film “gives an interesting character study” of each woman and contains “often hilarious service-industry insider jokes,” even if it “doesn’t hit the characterization quite deep enough” to be truly impactful​. They felt it was “fun and fancy-free” and still “an enjoyable yarn” overall​. This belated appreciation suggests that for some viewers, especially on home media, the film’s charms (the humor and ensemble work) outweighed its flaws.

Audience reactions were similarly divided. The movie’s IMDb rating stands around 5.1/10, indicating very middling reception from viewers. (As of this writing, that score is based on roughly 1,000 user votes, reflecting the film’s relative obscurity.) On other platforms, the pattern repeats: Spain’s FilmAffinity shows an average user score of 4.1/10, whereas Romania’s Cinemagia shows a user score of 6.1/10 (with 162 votes)​ – interestingly higher, perhaps owing to local support for Oana Pellea or simply differing tastes. In general, many casual viewers echoed the critics in praising the performances but criticizing the storyline. A representative Rotten Tomatoes user review wryly noted, “With I Really Hate My Job, I found myself doing nothing but sit there while a lot of women onscreen did nothing but complain.” This user admitted they watched the film out of boredom and Neve Campbell fandom, but ended up bored by the constant bickering and lack of action. They complained that “I Really Hate My Job isn’t insightful or intelligent or funny… it’s just boring as hell”, joking that the only reason anyone talks about the film is Neve Campbell’s brief topless scene​​. (That particular comment about Neve’s nudity being the only noteworthy element is exaggerated, but it underscores how the film failed to engage some viewers.) Another English-language user reviewer remarked that the script “isn’t funny, which is a problem since the film is a comedy,” and that “Oliver Parker’s direction is streets behind what he would later achieve” with broader comedies like Johnny English Reborn. They felt the film “is a lot more of an experimental film than an actual finished project,” pointing to its low budget and contained setting, and even derided a specific line of dialogue (“Drinking Coke is like getting your period, it just happens”) as emblematic of the film’s failed humor​. On the flip side, there are also audience members who appreciated the movie’s slice-of-life quality and ensemble vibe. A Spanish-language commenter on Tomatazos praised the “magníficas actuaciones” (magnificent performances) and well-defined personalities of the characters, but conceded that the film’s tension comes from “situaciones de ansiedad repetidas” (repeated anxiety-inducing situations)​. They concluded it’s “worth it for the performances, not for the direction or the adaptation” (script), “much less for the continuity”, taking issue with the film’s technical consistency​. This sentiment – that the actresses make it watchable even if the direction/editing falters – is a recurring theme in viewer feedback.

From a non-English critical perspective, the film received some attention due to its international cast. In Romania, where the film saw a limited theatrical release, critic Gloria Sauciuc gave it a warm recommendation, urging people “să nu ratați filmul acesta” (don’t miss this film)​. Writing for Cinemagia, she admired the comedy “bine susținută de jocul actorilor” (well supported by the actors’ performances) and the witty dialogue, enjoying how it portrayed a day in the life of a restaurant in crisis​. She specifically applauded Shirley Henderson and Oana Pellea for their stellar work in the “claustrophobic” kitchen scenes​. Another Romanian film fan, however, sharply disagreed – posting that he had “rarely seen a British film so bad”, lamenting the poor filming and editing, and expressing disbelief that actresses like Campbell, Henderson, and Lara agreed to participate​. He also criticized Oana Pellea’s performance as “foarte teatrală, aproape de neprivit” – very theatrical, almost unwatchable​. These polarized views illustrate that the film struck different chords even within the same country.

Box office-wise, I Really Hate My Job was virtually a non-starter. Because it never got a wide theatrical rollout in key markets like the US or UK, there is little box office data. The film’s only reported box office came from a small release in Romania, where distributor Transilvania Film opened it on September 21, 2007​. It played on just 2 screens and grossed about $23,500 USD in total during its run in Romania​. To put that in perspective, that’s roughly 4,200 tickets sold in Romania over several weeks​ – a very modest number. Outside of Romania, Box Office Mojo records an additional $1,628 from a “2009 re-release” (which might have been a one-off screening or a tiny rollout in another territory)​, bringing the worldwide gross to a mere $25,135. In other words, the film’s theatrical gross wouldn’t even cover a month’s rent for a Soho café! Of course, the movie wasn’t expected to be a blockbuster – it was positioned as an indie/arthouse comedy – but even by those standards, its commercial impact was negligible. The fact that it went straight to DVD in many regions hurt its visibility. Magnolia Home Entertainment picked it up for North America and released it on DVD in mid-2008​, but without a prior theatrical buzz, it slipped out quietly. By the time it reached the UK home market in 2014, any momentum was long gone, though that release did prompt a few retrospective reviews and perhaps introduced the film to curious Neve Campbell fans.

In terms of ratings on aggregator sites, beyond Rotten Tomatoes and IMDb: TMDb users (The Movie Database) have rated the film around middling as well (one source lists a TMDb user score of about 5 or 6 out of 10, though the site has since switched to a “vibe” system)​. Metacritic does not even have a score for it, due to the lack of sufficient critical reviews. On Letterboxd, a social film app, the film has a small number of reviews with an average leaning negative; some Letterboxd users champion it as an underrated gem of feminist comedy, while others echo the sentiment that “nothing much happens.” It’s fair to say the film did not leave a strong impression on the general audience – it’s more of a little-known curiosity.

One area of consensus in reception is the acknowledgement of the film’s core relatable theme: the drudgery of day jobs and the yearning for bigger things. Many viewers who have worked in restaurants or customer service jobs found familiar truths in the banter and mishaps. As the British Comedy Guide’s synopsis cheekily asked, “I Really Hate My Job. Who hasn’t said it?”, and described a career as “what happens when you lose control of a car on a wet road and it slams into a brick wall”​. That line resonated with some audience members who saw the film, as it encapsulates the dark humor the movie is going for. However, others felt the film didn’t delve deeply enough into those truths.

In summary, I Really Hate My Job received mixed reviews leaning toward negative, and it flew under the radar commercially. Critics and viewers alike applauded the ensemble cast’s performances – particularly noting Shirley Henderson’s and the overall chemistry – but found the script and pacing uneven. The film’s attempt to blend mundane realism with surreal fantasy was polarizing: a few found it charming and different, while most found it awkward or flat. As a result, I Really Hate My Job remains a niche film – appreciated by a subset of viewers (often those who enjoy talky indie dramedies or who have personal experience in the service industry), but largely overlooked in the broader cinema landscape.

Final Verdict

I Really Hate My Job is a quirky, claustrophobic little film that wears its theatrical origins on its sleeve. It offers a wry slice-of-life comedy about five women slogging through a work shift from hell, elevated by a talented cast and punctuated with moments of clever insight. Watching the film, you can feel Jennifer Higgie’s personal connection to the material – the situations have an “I’ve been there” authenticity (who hasn’t had a day on the job where absolutely everything goes wrong?), and the script finds humor in the small quotidian details of restaurant life: the passive-aggressive customer interactions, the kitchen meltdowns, the co-worker debates about art and aging that help pass the time. The movie’s themes of artistic ambition vs. economic reality, and the camaraderie (and clashes) between people trapped in a job they don’t love, are universally relatable and still relevant today. There’s an underlying feminist current as well – the film is essentially about five women trying to assert themselves (as an actor, a writer, a photographer, a lover, a philosopher) in a world that currently only sees them as a waitress, a cook, a dishwasher. In that sense, I Really Hate My Job pays tribute to the dreams and dignity of working women, even as it revels in the comedic indignities they suffer nightly.

Where the film divides audiences is in its tone and narrative approach. The tone ping-pongs between farcical and sincere, which can be jarring. One minute you’re chuckling at a perfectly timed one-liner or slapstick mishap, the next you’re asked to care deeply about a character’s personal crisis. At its best, this creates a dramedy with a flavor similar to cult workplace comedies (you might see shades of Waiting… or Britain’s The Office, albeit with more theatrical dialogue), sprinkled with a dash of magical realism reminiscent of Pedro Almodóvar or Terry Gilliam’s flights of fancy. At its worst, it can feel disjointed – some viewers may wonder if the film is even sure of what it wants to be. The narrative device of the anticipated celebrity arrival gives the story a ticking clock and a focal point for the characters’ hopes, which is a smart choice structurally. And the payoff to that device – Danny Huston’s bizarre, charming musical cameo – is a bold swing that we personally found endearing and thematically resonant (underscoring the idea that a little magic or beauty can validate all the struggle). Not everyone will agree; if you prefer your comedy strictly realistic, that ending might provoke an eye-roll. But credit to the filmmakers for taking a risk on a unique ending rather than something pat.

In assessing I Really Hate My Job, one must also acknowledge the limitations of its production. This is a low-budget film shot mostly in one location with an emphasis on talky scenes, so those expecting cinematic spectacle or fast-paced plot should look elsewhere. The film demands patience to enjoy the character interactions and layered conversations. The direction by Oliver Parker is competent and occasionally inspired, but there are stretches that feel a bit static or repetitive. As one Spanish critic pointed out, the script can be “saturado de efectismo dramático mal resuelto” – saturated with dramatic affectations that aren’t fully resolved​– which might leave some emotional arcs feeling incomplete. For instance, Abi’s issues (age, career, love life) are thrown at us in a heap, but only superficially addressed before the film ends; this is intentional to a degree (since real life often doesn’t resolve neatly in one night), yet it may not satisfy viewers craving a stronger conclusion for each character. The movie instead opts for a bittersweet, hopeful resolution that is more about mood than plot – a choice some will appreciate for its realism (tomorrow is another day, and these women will keep striving), while others may feel it lacks catharsis.

On the positive side, I Really Hate My Job boasts sharp dialogue and some genuinely funny exchanges. Jennifer Higgie’s background in art and literature shines through in the witty banter about topics like whether porn can be art or whether being a waitress is akin to acting. The characters often use humor as a shield against their disappointments, and the script captures that coping mechanism astutely. There are plenty of quotable lines (even if one or two land with a thud, as a few critics noted). If you enjoy conversational comedies and ensemble pieces, there is a lot to like here – one can easily imagine this story as a stage play that would be a tour-de-force for actors.

In the end, I Really Hate My Job is a film of small pleasures: an eye-roll shared between co-workers behind a rude customer’s back, a spontaneous dance in the kitchen when no one’s looking, a late-night confession that brings two people closer, and an absurd surprise that momentarily makes you forget how much your job sucks. It doesn’t have the polished structure or broad appeal of a Hollywood comedy, and it fumbles some of its lofty ambitions, but it also has an earnest charm and authenticity that will speak to anyone who’s ever felt stuck between their dreams and their day job. As the tagline says, “We’ve all said it. They mean it.” – the film means it enough that, despite its imperfections, it earns a measure of affection. For the excellent cast and the unique experience it offers, this film is worth clocking in for at least once, especially if you’re in the mood for something offbeat. Just manage your expectations: think of it not as a gourmet meal, but as a humble house special – a little rough around the edges, but made with heart.