2 stars

It was lucky for the artist L.S. Lowry that his family fell on hard times and moved out of their leafy Manchester suburb to a new home near the city factories. Lucky, I think, because he was inspired to paint the everyday scenes that he saw all around him, showing how the working classes lived and worked, and made a name for himself.

A profusion of landscapes and seascapes were painted by artists in reaction to an Industrial Revolution grinding on, but Lowry faced it head on.

It's a neat coincidence that a much chubbier version of Timothy Spall played J.M.W. Turner in Mr Turner (2014), about the famous Romantic artist of the early 19th century.

It seems Lowry's mother, Elizabeth (Vanessa Redgrave), never got over her fall from grace to the grimy industrial district of Pendlebury, but over time the change in circumstances turned into a windfall for the artist as a young man.

He was drawn to the strange world of massive, humming factories and he saw a dignity in the people that the mills swallowed by day and spewed out at night. He felt there was a beauty in everything.

From the bed that she was confined to, from which she ran her family of one, Elizabeth was a force to be reckoned with. Domineering, class-conscious, undermining.

And yet although Elizabeth was very hard work, her son and only child remained loyal, looking after her until she died.

For her part, Elizabeth couldn't acknowledge that her son was an artist, though she appeared to like his more conventional paintings, like Sailing Boats, well enough.

Elizabeth felt vindicated when a critic lambasted Laurie's painting Coming from the Mill as an ugly rendition of a squalid industrial scene with stick figures that looked like marionettes. It could have been painted by a child.

The label "naive" dogged Lowry's reputation. Why didn't Laurie give it up, she argued, for her sake, make her happy, and find another 'hobby'?

Far from a hobbyist, Lowry had trained for many years at art school. After he returned home from his day job as a rent collector, he would cook the dinner that he and his mother ate together off trays in her bedroom. Then he would climb to his attic studio to work until the wee small hours of the morning. No Sunday painter this, he painted every day, an escape into the imagination from his life downstairs.

There were quite a few moments when I was reminded of another bickering pair, Ruth Cracknell and Garry McDonald in their roles in the fondly remembered sitcom, Mother and Son.

\But that was toe-curling and funny.

The issue with Mrs Lowry & Son, directed by Adrian Noble from a screenplay by Martyn Hesford, is that it spends way too much time with Elizabeth.

There's too much emphasis on Lowry's struggle with his mother and too little on his struggle with his art, which is, after all, the main reason we watch the artist's biopic.

At the close, the film skips to the present with some footage from The Lowry gallery, showing room after room of the artist's paintings.

It is a relief to see them there and realise he didn't destroy them all in that bonfire in the garden, but it's an awkward add-on at the conclusion.

A gaunt Spall is convincing as the odd, lonely artist who lived with his mother until she died in 1939, but the screenplay has given him restricted material to work with.

I liked reading over the final credits that Lowry refused to accept various honours, including a knighthood, from the Queen.

But then we read he'd said that there was no point accepting them without his mother around to acknowledge this success.

It seems Lowry could be mischievous too - the sweet scenes with children early on held some promise.

I've also read that his clock collection all told different times, just for fun, so he wasn't without spark.

There must have been other sides to this intensely inhibited, private man but Mrs Lowry & Son keeps them from us.