Release Date – 18th March 2022, Cert – 12, Run-time – 1 hour 42 minutes, Director – Craig Roberts

Humble working class family man and shipyard worker Maurice Flitcroft (Mark Rylance) finds himself playing ‘professionally’ in the 1976 British Open, having never played a round of golf in his life.

Maurice Flitcroft has been labelled the world’s worst golfer. And while some claim that he wasn’t a golfer at all there’s no denying that he certainly gave the sport a go. It’s the spirit that The Phantom Of The Open – adapted by Simon Farnaby from his biographical book of the same name – embraces and runs with throughout as it sees the working class shipyard worker, have a crack at the 1976 British Open. He’s managed to enter professionally; after having ticked the box and having that simply accepted, despite having never played a round of golf in his life, and has his heart set on making the most of his time there; revealing the colour of his golfing outfit like Superman unleashing his iconic ‘S’ logo. What unfolds is a standard British underdog tale. A charming enough feature with plenty of typical British humour to carry it along the way.

Perhaps the force that brings us in to the piece the most is Mark Rylance in the leading role. With his softly-spoken northern accent you don’t completely notice just how good and charming he is, or the fact that he’s apparently meant to be 46, as he manages to be perfectly wrapped up within the tone and heart that the film, and indeed he, creates. He’s surrounded by a strong supporting cast of British faces including supportive wife Jean (Sally Hawkins) and irritated tournament head Lambert (Rhys Ifans), almost furious at the mockery that Flitcroft appears to be making of the competition. He causes a spiral of events for the innocent family man that see him almost shut out of any opportunity to have a go at his newfound passion, simply adding to his determination to simply have a go.

Throughout the film the 70s vibe is certainly felt. Not just from a slightly odd ream sequence that we see early on, the start of Maurice’s fascination, but in the general design and feel. It somehow intensifies the overall British feel of the piece as each of the characters within the Flitcroft family strive to achieve their own dreams, although some away from the core family unit where the other member are seen as slight oddities that could put them at a disadvantage in a successful business-life; the case for eldest son Mike (Jake Davies). He contrasts greatly to his twin brothers (Jonah and Christian Lees) who find themselves competing in major competitions as a disco duo. With such strands you can generally tell where the film is likely to go due to a sense of familiarity and slight convention, particularly as they reach and build up to slightly more sentimental moments, even if things are pitched as they may have played out in real life. And while it adds to the likable British feel of the piece it creates a near on-the-nose feeling to a number of points that the film makes, particularly in the second half, and the build up to it.

However, amongst he convention there’s still plenty of humour to be found within the well-meaning figure of Maurice Flitcroft. He’s held up by the cast and production team. His generosity and nature of simply wanting to see others succeed brings you in to want to see him succeed in his own goals. It’s what creates much of the likable and enjoyable nature of The Phantom Of The Open – certainly living up to its tagline of “every dreamer deserves a shot”. We don’t exactly laugh, although there are plenty of chuckles along the way, with him, but certainly enjoy the amusement of him having a good time, his ambition and simply throwing himself in to his newly-sprung passion. It may be slightly recognisable and conventional-feeling at times, but there’s no denying the charm and humour which carry things through, alongside the central focus, to make this a worthwhile, enjoyable and very British underdog feature.

While it occasionally leans towards convention and familiarity there’s plenty of charm and humour within The Phantom Of The Open and the kindly ambitions of its well-performed central character to carry it along and keep you in place.

Release Date – TBC, Cert – N/A, Run-time – 1 hour 38 minutes, Director – Maung Sun

While trying to make his debut feature, hopeful director Wai Bhone (Okkar Dat-Khe) runs into financial troubles in both his personal and moviemaking lives.

Opening his feature debut, co-writer (alongside Ma Aeint) and director Maung Sun takes a slightly satirical look at censorship within the Burmese film industry. His central figure, Wai Bhone (Okkar Dat-Khe) is attempting to also make his own feature debut, however the gritty gangster flick that he aspires to create is being shot down in lengthy conversations with his producer for containing too much violence, sex and swearing. This all before anything has even been properly filmed. The film simply viewed in comparison to the original upon which it is based. We see the initial struggles of the first-time director, not just with his producer but with a minimal, not always present, crew. Sun manages to avoid a comedic tone that comes into effect later in the piece and forms an interesting depiction of such creative struggles that helps bring you into the film and the attempts and efforts of the central figure.

A central figure who the film acknowledges early on is undeniably flawed, making him an interesting early drawing point. As a need for money, not just within his filmmaking career but his personal life, where his family’s situation in their flat is put at risk if they don’t pay up on time, comes into play the more slightly comedic elements come into play, alongside the gradually appearing notes of a heist. The film certainly feels as if it’s telling two different lines just shown through the eyes of the same figure. One in his working life, the other in his family life. It’s during scenes focusing on the latter that the film almost feels as if it comes to something of a standstill, particularly within the first half of the narrative when they’re still being warmed to. After having built up the film production elements such moments seem like something of a slight detour and distraction. And while adding to Wai Bhone as a character they don’t always keep you in the flow of the film.

In general as we reach the second half of the fairly short run-time the details and general line that’s travelled don’t quite click or work as well as they did before. There’s an almost jumbled sense to the film and the different things that it’s trying to show to enhance the actions and desperation of the central character in his search for money. There are certainly some good elements, mostly in relation to the heist itself; particularly a rather amusing getaway, but they don’t entirely distract from the overall wavering nature of the rest of the scenes that surround them.

Over time the initial elements that brought you in in the first place, especially those focusing on the main character’s original frustrations and the film-related side of things, begin to shed. The second half progresses dealing with a few more elements, again with the same varying degree of interest and engagement from the viewer. And while the film as a whole just about manages to stay standing it’s not always on the most sturdy of grounds after having changed its stance, or at least narrative focus, a couple of times throughout its 98 minute course. There are moments of interest to be found along the way, mostly in relation to the initial filmmaker struggles that we see being faced, particularly creative and censorial disputes. But, there’s aren’t always kept in focus beyond the first half resulting in a slightly wavering narrative that while throwing the main character around and creating some mild amusement every now and then never properly feels as if it stabilises.

Despite a promising opening and set up once Money Has Four Legs begins to delve into the more non-film-related areas of its central characters life and the events that spur from there it begins to feel jumbled in tone, themes and an overall central focus.

Release Date – 20th January 2023, Cert – 12, Run-time – 1 hour 25 minutes, Director – Victoria Fiore

Following four years in the life of Entoni, grandson of worried grandmother Dora, who fears that he is heading towards a dangerous life of crime.

There’s a compelling draw within the conflicting familial nature of Victoria Fiore’s documentary feature debut, Nascondino (translated to Hide And Seek). We see grandmother Dora worry about the future of her nine-year-old grandson Entoni. He’s not just rebellious but is pitched as a wannabe mafia boss, seemingly hurting towards a future life of crime. Not only does this make his grandmother fear that his future will be one of destruction (particularly towards himself) but that he may be taken away from his family, after Italy passes a law saying that if there is a threat of children entering into crime then they will be moved away from their families.

Entoni makes for an interesting central focus throughout the four year course that the film covers in a very short 85 minutes. He’s clearly confident in himself and what he says, although it’s said that “your tongue is your biggest enemy” as often his outspokenness can be as potentially destructive as his actions in the cramped streets of Naples. The audience watches Entoni’s slight developments, and his family’s increased struggles and worries, over the years much like Fiore’s camera. Sat and observing the unfolding actions naturally play out, as if a camera isn’t present at all and you’re actually in the cluttered greyness of Entoni’s surroundings. It helps to bring you in and form a larger connection with the piece as a whole as the film, helped by the editing, simply allows the story to tell itself.

It’s a point that’s pushed through the fact that there are very few interview segments placed throughout. In fact, the only person we really properly hear the spoken-to-camera views of is Dora as she reflects on her own past, not wanting to see Entoni go through the same thing, despite appearing to be hurtling towards it. It’s echoed when he’s told “get your head straight… because sooner or later you’ll get your wings clipped”. An early threat thinly wrapped as advice that appears to go straight over the head of the young focus as he can’t wait to get away from the busyness of the cramped apartment he’s often confined to.

And yet, amongst everything that the film shows in terms of Entoni’s links to crime, and even increasingly high chances of being sent to prison, the film reminds us that he is still a child. There are brief moments of him simply sat down playing games, whether at home or in the streets. Exploring in his own way and wanting a sense of freedom. While sometimes this leans into his own view of freedom and the path he may be knowingly going down, there’s still an occasional sense and reminder that he is a child. It helps to stabilise things and bring about the seriousness of the situation that he finds himself in, and the threat he faces in regards to his future and the actions put in place that could take him away from his home and family. It forms an emotional level of intrigue from the audience to the piece and rounds off a wholly engaging nature to Fiore’s film. One which makes the most of your fascination with the central figure and naturally-occurring events that make up the short run-time. Forming a quiet, unforced connection between you and the piece and an overall compelling surprise.

Thanks to the way it largely allows its events to naturally play out Nascondino brings you in for a fantastically pieced together and compelling course by reminding you of both the seriousness of the situation that the central focus is in, and the fact that he is still very much a child.

Release Date – 11th March 2022, Cert – 15, Run-time – 1 hour 37 minutes, Director – Ruth Paxton

Widowed mother Holly (Sienna Guillory) begins to fear for her teenage daughter, Betsey (Jessica Alexander), when she begins to refuse to eat, and yet loses no weight. While it may initially seem as a response to grief, it may be closer to an unexplained possession.

There’s a real attention to detail when it comes to the various dishes and drinks that line the extensive family dining table in which many pivotal scenes involving mother Holly (Sienna Guillory) and teenage daughter Betsey (Jessica Alexander) play out. Plates and glasses full of colour have a dark shadow cast across them as if some form of evil has been injected into them. It’s perhaps exactly how Betsey sees what is put in front of her as what her mother sees as a refusal to eat intensifies. However, what could be a response of grief after the loss of her father could be linked more closely to possession, particularly after a not properly seen event at a friend’s party, as Betsey’s weight remains the same despite not consuming anything. Regardless tensions begin to rise between the two as heated arguments and words fly not just across the table, but across the house as a whole. Holly finds herself unable to understand why her daughter won’t eat, appearing to become scared and from there frustration rises.

While the elements relating to grief are certainly present within the eating disorder walls of the piece as the film begins to lean more into the idea of potential possession it begins to explore such reaches more. It’s around this point where things feel slightly more drawn out. The central line is good and a number of scenes, particularly the interactions led by character’s in-the-moment emotional responses, work well but when everything comes together it doesn’t quite grab you as something overly convincing. Particularly as the idea of Betsey not being in control of her own body is further explored and a feeling of being too treaded begins to settle – particularly when it comes to some of the other elements of the piece that slightly seem to fall behind the primary focus of the themes and narrative.

Despite a handful of interesting moments that focus on the worries and fears of each of the characters, relating to their family unit and how it feels to them as if it may be falling apart after their recent bereavement, overall there’s a feeling that A Banquet begins to lose itself amongst the ideas that it has in its mixture. There are some which manage to rise and work every now and then. They’re conveyed with more certainty and helped along by the performances at the centre of the piece. However, things begin to detach as certain themes and ideas take the lead and create a feeling that the film is starting to lose itself, which carries on throughout much of the third act up until the ending.

It’s hard to properly engage with what becomes the somewhat hectic nature of the piece as points are jumbled and switched and yet true uncertainty, or perhaps rather ambiguity, never properly lies in terms of what the cause of Betsey’s eating disorder is. Tensions between the family may rise, but amongst everything that’s being wrapped up and further explored in the final 20-30 minutes things get lost, and the viewer simply becomes even more disengaged from the piece. The quiet-to-loud table interactions are gone as the darkness begins to settle in. But, there’s little effect due to the sense of disengagement from the film. Pushing the feeling of the run-time and unfortunately not providing much savoury food for thought as the credits begin to roll.

While there are a handful of interesting interactions led by character emotions within A Banquet the film as a whole somewhat loses itself as it juggles between its ideas of grief and possession. It pushes the run-time and gradually as one becomes more focused upon the viewer loses engagement within the slightly over-treaded ideas.

Release Date – 21st January 2022, Cert – 12, Run-time – 1 hour 22 minutes, Director – CJ Hunt

Documentary looking into the feuding reactions and campaigns in response to the New Orleans City Council’s vote to remove four confederate statues in the city, with similar events happening around the world.

When it comes to great editing documentaries are very often left out of the conversation. However, it would be hard to not feel the stirring impact of CJ Hunt’s The Neutral Ground if it wasn’t for the effective editing which allows for the fine balance between the serious and the comedic in what manages to stretch beyond the feeling of a feature length Daily Show segment. Yes, there’s certainly injections of humour that naturally emerge throughout from Hunt as he naturally adapts his wit to the situation, but it contrasts well with the shock and seriousness that comes in a number of montage-like sequences that appear throughout the film. After scenes from the Charlottesville riots Hunt seems almost unable to make a joke after what he has witnessed. It reflects the shocked and terrified nature of the viewer.

The film revolves around the reactions, protests and even attacks spawned by the decision of the New Orleans City Council to remove four confederate statues in the city. We’re eased in to the situation through the comedic slant of the opening monologue. Bringing about plenty of early chuckles the film soon settles and breezes through informing the audience of the situation as it begins to look into the history of the statues and the effects that they have had on the residents of the city, and indeed America where many alike statues stand. While only 82 minutes there’s plenty of unforced information stored within Hunt’s film. Finely delivered through the general construction of the piece that manages to blend the engaging humour with the lump-in-your-throat shock.

Reaching beyond the grand-scale disputes over the controversial, long-standing monuments Hunt manages to look at the idea of black history in America. It’s stated that “we as black people have only heard a small fraction of our story” as the idea of how American history, particularly in response to the near-romanticising of who some deem as heroes of the Civil War, is taught and told. Not just in the modern day, but how it has been over the years. There’s an interesting perspective and set of discussions that are enhanced by Hunt’s clear natural passion for all subjects that are being covered within the film. None of which ever feel tangential or distracting from the main point at hand. Everything links and helps to tell the story in a concise, informative and engaging way. It’s easy to get caught up within the flow of things and have your interest in the subject matter increased over time as more is glimpsed and talked about. All led by an interested, interesting and concerned director and witness.

By the well-tuned ending The Neutral Ground leaves things slightly open. Providing space for discussion and thought afterwards. It doesn’t just ask the various interviewees and contributors questions, but also the audience. Inviting them to play an active role in what plays out in the weeks and months that are depicted. Both in America and around the world, a montage demonstrating statues being removed and toppled all across the world includes the Bristol crowd who took down the statue of Edward Colston. With ease, Hunt makes a film not just for those in New Orleans, or America. But something to create a sense of thought, understanding and progressive conversation around the world. It does it in an engaging and effective manner that manages to create humour, occasionally poking fun, and still create a stunning sense of horror and seriousness. All well-controlled in the editing process which simply helps to craft The Neutral Ground into the finely blended passionate documentary that it is.

Thanks to the fine editing and guiding figure of CJ Hunt The Neutral Ground is a passionate documentary that effectively balances its comedy and seriousness to bring the viewer in for an engaging, impactful, consistently interesting and occasionally shocking piece of work that’ll leave plenty of questions and thought stirring in your mind long after.

Release Date – 11th February 2022, Cert – 15, Run-time – 1 hour 29 minutes, Director – Jonas Poher Rasmussen

Animated documentary following Amin Nawabi as he recounts his childhood in 80s and 90s Afghanistan before finding refuge in Denmark many years later.

“Most people can’t begin to understand how fleeing like that effects you” states Amin Nawabi after having recounted much of his tale from growing up in 80s and 90s Afghanistan, eventually finding refuge in Denmark; after a harsh time in post-Soviet Russia. His words are true, as an audience throughout the course of Jonas Poher Rasmussen’s documentary we witness much of his story as its translated into an animated form. Bringing to life Nawabi’s words and placing us in the world that his words are helping to form. It brings a more visual sense to the piece, and thanks to a handful of different styles helps to get more across and form more of a connection with the viewer.

While holding a short run-time – at just under 90 minutes – Flee is certainly filled with plenty of detail, outside of the animation. It comes in Nawabi’s words as his recounts of events and tragedy in his life, simply to gain freedom. Given freedom by the director and, more clearly, his friend to tell his story as it comes to him. It’s made clear when moments are being slightly filled in, and generally where we are; for example whether we’re looking at the interview or the unfolding story of Amin’s life, thanks to a handful of slightly different animation styles. For example, a number of the darker moments of fighting for safety and survival are portrayed with what feels like slightly scratchier animation, an almost hand-drawn style, to get across a harsher tone. It works and certainly has an effect, bringing the audience further into the story as the world feels even more detailed beyond what we’re already being told. Even by seeing animated interpretations of the interview setup, where Amin occasionally lies down almost like a therapy session, the film could be seen as the events playing out in his mind, adding to the personal and emotional core of the piece.

Much of the emotional engagement that we have with the film appears to come from the animation which helps to lift up and strengthen so many moments. As we get a look into the world that is being described, and also means that there’s more time to focus on the story instead of hearing descriptions of surroundings and areas. It creates a closer bond with Amin, almost alike to that which he appears to have with Rasmussen. Allowing for a finer sense of flow to his words and an overall stripped back nature to the way in which they speak. The film as a whole, in fact, has the feeling of something quite stripped back, and yet still holding plenty of details within the animation. All particularly helping when it comes to the way he initially interacts with a more open world; the thoughts that come to mind in regards to living in Denmark and visiting America.

There’s thoughtfulness at each turn and stage of the life story, and always a thought of the subject as a person, not just his story. Learning about and understanding his sexuality in a time and country where homosexuality is largely unacknowledged, and, if it is seen, simply deemed as wrong and something to be met with severe consequences. Such moments manage to break through well and fit naturally into Amin’s story. And while the film’s focus is still very much on the physical journeys that he takes in increasingly desperate search for safety and as he later puts it “a life” there’s still time and space to occasionally get glimpses into his life in Denmark and the contrast that it has to the confinement, uncertainty, isolation and fear he felt before. It’s again further show in the animation styles and the way in which they pair up with what Amin is saying. Creating a story that is both visually and more emotionally engaging and allows us to follow what the subject is saying with more understanding and connection. All in an attempt to help us understand the effect that fleeing has had on him. While we might not be able to fully do so, Flee certainly does a good job of getting us some of the way there, particularly on a level of personal change and emotion.

Flee’s use of animation helps us to form a better sense of understanding when it comes to the personal story of its subject. By varying styles we get put into the world and the emotional effects that it creates, and indeed created. Focusing not just on the journeys themselves, but the person (and people) who went through them.