If you're looking for discouragement from becoming a late-stage alcoholic, you can subtract every Lifetime movie, Afternoon School Special, hundreds of classic alcoholism films to the present, plus all seasons of addiction TV, because this heartbreaking British documentary out-shines (and out-shocks) even my favorite movie "On the Bowery". Eugene O'Neal, himself, would flee the Wethouse. This is a facility where homeless drunks are allowed to cohabitate, most often in a common room, and drink endless 15.5 oz. cans of Tennant's Super Lager before staggering off to their bleak single rooms. Despite most of these sad wastrels being Irish and abandoned in London, there's no poetry, no pub charms, only a few warbled songs in between sloppy violence and dementia-ridden conversations the men and women hold with themselves. The yellow faces are mushy and flattened, all the residents, young-ish and old, are missing front teeth from fights and falls. Certain individuals are focused on by the film-makers, as they try to explain their current states, but so much damage is done, it's like a tour of an Urgent Care ward. Both fascinating and horrifying is the facility, itself, as it justifies its existence, earning taxpayer's money and providing shelter for alcoholics so far gone that collapsing into puddles within a safe environment is more logical than paying for hospitalization after they've been set on fire in parks. One disfigured army veteran is the survivor of such an event, and his story qualifies the Wethouse's purpose. Still, the fact that the house staff is reluctant to break up fights is a troubling outcome of a miserable situation not properly monitored. The documentary shows you everything, and is more disturbing than most "misery porn" or the frequent crybaby developments exploited on "Intervention". It should be required viewing following the Superbowl and its beer ads. Watch it on Youtube. 5 out of 5 potato sacks.