Spartan huts line the highway to the port of Calais. Between them hang washing lines, down below the ground is muddy. Water boils on an open fire, and a shopping trolley holds all someone’s worldly possessions. We see images of the refugees who have set up camp here, and the camera glides across the scene to the text of W. H. Auden’s Refugee Blues. People are beginning to rebel, they want to move on.