Parky at the Pictures (In Cinemas 9/5/2013)

Based on the case of Geneviève Lhermitte, the Brussels woman who slit the throats of her five young children in 2007, this is not a sensationalist melodrama or a gritty slice of social realism. Instead, it's a meticulous study of the walls closing in on a wife and mother who barely realises that her spirit has been broken until she commits the appalling crime that seemed her last hope of escape. As the grief-stricken Dequenne lies in a hospital bed begging a nurse to ensure that her babies are buried in Morocco and Lafosse shows their small, white coffins being loaded on to a plane, we realise the full horror of her desperate actions. But the subtlety and sensitivity of the screenplay co-written by Lafosse, Thomas Bidegain and Matthieu Reynaert and the harrowing honesty of Dequenne's exceptional performance ensure that we come to sympathise with this crushed soul rather than condemn her.

Flashing back six years, the story opens with teacher Émile Dequenne in the early stages of a romance with Tahar Rahim, a Moroccan who has lived in Belgium since older sister Mounia Raoui contracted a marriage of convenience with middle-aged doctor Nils Arestrup several years earlier. The bond between the two men is much stronger than their guardian-ward or brothers-in-law status would suggest and Dequenne is faintly aware of Arestrup's disapproval when they announce their plans to wed. Yet, he agrees to be their witness, pays for their honeymoon (which they insist he shares) and invites them to move into the comfortable apartment where he has his surgery. Moreover, he also makes Rahim his assistant when it becomes clear that he doesn't have the talent to pursue his own medical studies.

Alone except for envious older sister Stéphane Bissot, Dequenne is delighted by the warmth of the welcome extended by Rahim's family when they travel from Morocco for the wedding. Although Raoui no longer lives with Arestrup, mother Baya Belal is still hugely grateful for all he has done for her children. But younger brother Redouane Behache.is less appreciative, as he resents being left behind when Rahim moved to Belgium and accuses him during the reception of being Arestrup's lover. Yet Arestrup comes to seem more grandparental than sugar daddyish when Dequenne gives birth to a daughter (eventually played by Jade Stambouli) and he not only gives the couple thoughtful gifts to mark the occasion, but he also gets up in the night to help with the crying fits. Indeed, even after the arrival of a second girl (Sohane Stambouli), Arestrup offers Dequenne more support than the immature and culturally chauvinist Rahim, who bellows at his wife when the older child falls downstairs and she blames herself for not closing the protective gate rather than her idle husband for not keeping a better eye on his children.

In spite of the growing tension between Rahim and Dequenne, she quickly becomes pregnant again and delivers another daughter (Yasmine Boussoualem). She continues to teach, but is largely left to run the home alone and can't even confide in Bissot after she is banished for flirting with Arestrup, who isolates Dequenne further by sending Rahim back to Africa to recharge his batteries. In his absence, Arestrup makes Dequenne feel inadequate by getting the girls to behave better than she can. Moreover, he fields calls from Rahim, who greets his wife with little enthusiasm at the airport on his return and yells at the kids when they pester him for attention while he is trying to watch the football

Sensing an opportunity, Dequenne suggests they move to Morocco and Rahim is tempted by the idea. However, he changes his mind when Arestrup threatens to break off all contact and Dequenne reluctantly accepts the decision when Arestrup reminds her that girls are treated very differently in the Maghreb  In a bid to ameliorate the situation, however, Arestrup decides to move to bigger premises. Yet the increasingly careworn Dequenne is given no say in the matter and she soon becomes pregnant again. Initially, Rahim can barely disguise his dismay, but his mood changes when they have a boy (Jovan Zec) and even Dequenne seems to respond positively to sessions with therapist Nathalie Boutefeu.

She also enjoys a trip to Morocco and Belal is touched by her devotion towards her son and grandchildren. She even lets Dequenne take her paddling in the sea. But the real reason for the visit becomes clear when Arestrup asks Dequenne if she would be willing to coax Bissot into marrying Behache so he can come to Brussels. Yet Dequenne feels so relaxed on her return that she lets slip that Arestrup is both her brother-in-law and her GP and Boutefeu suggests that they exclude him from their consultations and only meet on an occasional rather than a weekly basis. Dequenne tells Arestrup that she has been discharged from therapy, but he keeps her off work and on pills in a bid to retain his control over her. But he also becomes more openly critical and ticks her off for giving her eldest girl a standing ovation for a dance in the school play. Rahim proves equally critical when Dequenne dozes off and fails to have dinner on the table when they come home. He even slaps her for not showing Arestrup sufficient respect and they eat the pizza he buys for them in sullen silence.

Belal seems to sense Dequenne's growing despair when she arrives for Behache's wedding and insists on praising her for being such a good mother. She also gives her a traditional Moroccan kaftan, which Dequenne wears incessantly, even though Arestrup tells her she looks ridiculous in it. He continues to undermine her confidence after Rahim escorts his ailing mother home and there is a touching moment at the airport when Belal gives Dequenne an extra hug after noticing the coolness of her son's farewell. Suddenly feeling alone, Dequenne stops the car on the way home and sobs after singing along to the Julien Clerc song `Femmes...je vous aime'.

She tries to call Boutefeu to explain her gloomy thoughts, feelings of gnawing anxiety and the growing terror that something is going to happen to the children. But Arestrup discovers she has been deceiving him and calmly informs her that she has not deserved the help and affection he has given her and her offspring. Thus, after she faints while watching her eldest having a veruca removed, Dequenne steals a kitchen knife while out shopping and returns home to sit the kids down with cakes and a new DVD, while she calmly murders her son and calls each daughter in turn to an upstairs room before phoning the police to confess to her crime and lament her inability to kill herself.

Wisely, Lafosse refrains from showing the climactic tragedy. Instead, he observes from across the living room as Boussoualem and the two Stamboulis toddle out of shot to meet their fate. He also presents Dequenne's emergency call over an outside view of the house, so as not to diminish our sympathy for her. But such is the conviction of her performance that only the hardest heart would blame her, even for such a forlorn act. Her beauty and personality are eroded before our eyes as Rahim and Arestrup chip away at her self-worth and confidence to perform the most menial task. However, because Rahim's callousness is so careless and Arestrup's calculation so insidious, her decline feels all the more disturbingly mundane and her solution so much more disproportionate to what even her own sister considers a cushy situation.

As in Jacques Audiard's A Prophet (2009), Arestrup exerts a curious grip on Rahim that is left tantalisingly unexplained. The supporting performances are also solid, with Belal's compassionate, but impotent mother-in-law being the standout. Jean-François Hensgens's cinematography and Anna Falguères's deceptively comfortable interiors are also inspired, as is the use of Scarlatti's `La Maddalena' and Haydn's `Stabat Mater'. But the plaudits go to Lafosse, who has learned not to push the plot so hard since teaming Jérémie and Yannick Renier with Isabelle Huppert in Private Property (2006), and to Dequenne, whose Best Actress win in the Un Certain Regard strand at Cannes last year was so thoroughly deserved.

Another traumatic incident is explained in flashback, as Mira Nair attempts to fathom her protagonist's misunderstood motives in her fussy adaptation of Mohsin Hamid's bestselling novel, The Reluctant Fundamentalist. It hardly helps that William Wheeler's screenplay places the book's sprawling core content in the entirely inappropriate setting of an international hostage crisis in which time is of the essence. Nevertheless, as she proved in Mississippi Masala (1991) and The Namesake (2006), Nair has an inmate understanding of diasporic Asian communities in the United States and, while this earnest picture fails to grip as a thriller, it provides some telling insights into how many of America's Muslims must have felt in the days after 9/11.

Following the kidnapping of an American academic, journalist Liev Schreiber (who may also be a spy) arranges a meeting with professor Riz Ahmed, who may be involved with the radical group behind the abduction. Urged to proceed with caution by CIA agent Martin Donovan, Schreiber enters a student hotel in downtown Lahore and his trepidation is far from eased by the greeting of activist Adil Hussain. However, he is somewhat reassured by Ahmed's insistence that appearances can be deceptive, as he launches into his life story.

At 18, Ahmed relocated to the US with poet father Om Puri, mother Shabana Azmi and younger sister Meesha Shafi. Excelling at school, Ahmed gets a place at Princeton, where he so impresses high-flying financier Kiefer Sutherland during an interview that he is recruited for a Wall Street consultancy specialising in downsizing struggling businesses. Initially, Ahmed has misgivings about waltzing into companies and dictating redundancy and cutback terms. But Sutherland and African-American colleague Nelsan Ellis convince him that they are inflicting short-term pain to ensure survival and Ahmed heads to the Philippines with a greater sense of conviction and belonging.

His mood is also improved by a romance with boss Victor Slezak's photographer niece, Kate Hudson. At first, she finds it difficult to come to terms with the cancer death of her previous boyfriend. But Ahmed earns her trust and they become inseparable lovers. He also sparks Hudson's creativity. However, while he is on a trip to Turkey, he feels a pang of guilt at closing down Haluk Bilginer's family book business and the sense that he is a lackey for American imperialism is exacerbated when he experiences a moment of exhilaration on hearing about the attack on the World Trade Center.

Flying back to the States, Ahmed is stopped by airport security and forced to endure a humiliating strip search. But, while he accepts this as a necessary evil in the aftermath of an atrocity, his conscience dictates that he quits his job. Moreover, when he realises that Hudson has made him the subject of her latest exhibition, he feels patronised and betrayed and can barely bring himself to feel any guilt when she commits suicide.

No longer feeling comfortable in New York, Ahmed returns to Pakistan and starts lecturing in finance at the local university. However, he has been radicalised by his trials and, even though he was attending a Sufi dance demonstration at the time of the kidnapping, a furtive phone call leaves the audience to suspect that he may be involved in the plot. A second call in the middle of his interview with Schreiber calls his complicity into question. But, with time running out, Schreiber has to make a snap decision that will have wide-ranging ramifications.

Notwithstanding a solid performance by Christ Church alumnus Riz Ahmed, this is a ponderous picture that places too much emphasis on the human drama to leave much room for an analysis of the geopolitical complexities that prompted the attack on the Twin Towers and strained US-Pakistani relations to breaking point. Sutherland swaggers around like a character out of Mad Men, while Hudson fails to convince as either a sensitive artist or a crushed flower. Considering his character exists solely to facilitate Ahmed's reminiscences (as the undercover aspect makes little sense), Schreiber contributes some laudable gravitas. But too many secondary characters are mere ciphers, while the storytelling is often as sloppy as the shifts in tonal gear. Moreover, Nair regularly manipulates audience emotion, with Declan Quinn's photography contrasting the warm hues of Lahore with the soulless chill of Manhattan and Michael Andrews's score making sentimental use of Urdu lyrics and Qawwali refrains. Thus, while this undoubtedly means well, it frequently meanders while simplifying too many imponderables.

The same can never be said of A Hijacking, a tense hostage saga that marks the solo directorial debut of Dane Tobias Lindholm, following his collaboration with Michael Noer on the prison drama R (2010; aka R - Hit First, Hit Hardest). As one might expect of somebody with 20 episodes of the hit TV series Borgen and Thomas Vinterburg's Submarino (2010) and The Hunt (2012) to his credit, Lindholm knows exactly how to structure and pace his story. But what is so impressive is the way in which he eschews conventional thriller gambits and concentrates on the psychological aspects of a stand-off that is all the more compelling for its verisimilitude and restraint.

Pilou Asbæk is the cook aboard the cargo vesse MV Rozen on its voyage across the Indian Ocean. He calls wife Amalie Ihle Alstrup and daughter Amalie Vulff Andersen on the radio and is scolded for revealing he is going to be home a week later than planned. Back in Copenhagen, company boss Søren Malling is also cross with deputy Dar Salim for failing to haggle hard enough with a Japanese delegation. However, no sooner has Malling driven the yet another hard bargain than he is informed that the Rozen has been captured by Somali pirates and maritime security expert Gary Skjoldmose Porter is seconded to guide him through the negotiations.

Out at sea, Asbæk, skipper Keith Pearson and engineer Roland Møller are separated from their other four crewmates and locked in a cabin and told to await instructions. Terrified by the sight of the Kalashnikov rifles and unable to understand a word his captors are saying, Asbæk scuttles around his galley to rustle up some food and hide the wedding ring he wears on a chain around his neck. Eventually, he is taken into the captain's cabin, where he is introduced to Abdihakin Asgar, a multi-lingual translator who has been hired to conduct the ransom transaction. Asbæk speaks briefly on the phone to Malling to reassure him that everyone is safe, but he is quickly silenced as Asgar announces that the pirates want $15 million for the release of the crew.

Ignoring Porter's advice to leave the discussions to experts, Malling insists on handling things himself. However, he follows Porter's suggestion to offer only $250,000 and is pleased with himself for taking such a tough stance. But this is merely Day 3 of the exigency and Days 7, 25 and 39 pass without the bargaining positions coming any closer. Asgar begins to lose his patience and tells Asbæk that his superiors care nothing about his plight and simply wish to appear macho and save their money.

The mood on the ship deteriorates when shots are heard in the night and Pearson's health becomes a concern. Moreover, food supplies begin to run low and Asbæk is prevented from speaking to Malling after Asgar is insulted by the implication that he is anything other than an independent arbiter. Yet the mild-mannered Malling is clearly relishing his task and takes command of a meeting with the families to reassure them that everything is being done to get their loved ones back as quickly as possible. He also keeps the story out of the media and, because he refuses to leave his post, his wife Linda Laursen has to keep popping in to drop off clean clothes and offer words of support.

Despite the offer rising to $900,000, no further progress has been made by Day 67 and the pirates allow Pearson, Møller and Asbæk to venture on to the deck. They find fishing rods and the Somalis watch excitedly as they haul in a decent catch. Following their first decent meal in ages, the hostages open some beers and start a singsong that culminates in a rendition of happy birthday to Asbæk's daughter. Realising that the cook has become emotional, Asgar drags him into the radio room and forces him to call Alstrup and get her to beg Malling into paying the ransom. However, Malling declares that he will not bow to blackmail and Porter commends him on remaining strong.

The next time Asgar calls, however, Malling ups the price to $1.2 million on his own initiative. But tempers fray during the exchange and the line goes dead after a gunshot rings out. Malling meets Alstrup to promise that everyone is still fine, but he has a long night wrestling with his conscience and suddenly seems vulnerable as he sits in the dark in his vest. Yet, when Laursen asks next morning if he is really up to the task, he fumes at her for doubting his abilities and orders her to leave. He proves equally obdurate when the board warns him that time is running out and that they cannot allow the company to become embroiled in a scandal exacerbated by his vanity.

Yet Malling holds his nerve, even after Asgar starts communicating solely in faxes. Indeed, after Asbæk is hauled on deck to slaughter some goats on Day 119, Malling takes it upon himself to add $500,000 of his own money to the $2.8 million on offer and this gesture persuades the pirates to accept and there are muted celebrations in the operations room as the fax comes through confirming the deal. It is now Day 127 and the relief is also evident aboard the Rozen, as the entire crew is reunited. However, Asbæk has put his wedding ring back around his neck and Pearson is gunned down while trying to stop one of the pirates from stealing it. Malling is distraught on hearing the news, but composes himself before leaving the building for what seems to be the first time in months and driving off in his car. However, Asbæk is still in a sombre mood when he finally sees Alstrup and Anderson again on Day 134.

Slickly played by Asbæk and Malling and with real-life hostage negotiator Gary Skjoldmose Porter adding authenticity with his assured supporting turn, this may lack the high-octane thrills that would be expected of a Hollywood variation on the theme. But, in focusing on words rather than deeds, Lindblom capably conveys the stresses placed on captors, victims and rescuers alike  He is considerably aided by editor Adam Nielsen, who not only cross-cuts sharply between Malling and Asgar during their brinkmanship battles, but who also smoothes the leaps in time as the crisis lingers on. Cinematographer Magnus Nordenhof Jønck also achieves evocative contrasts between the cramped, sweaty quarters on the ship and the sleek corporate offices, while Morten Green's sound design makes disconcerting use of off-screen spaces.

As in so much recent Scandinavian drama, the emphasis is firmly on the crisis currently being experienced by Eurasian masculinity. Thus, while Asbæk and Malling are compelling characters, the most intriguing one is Asgar's interpreter, as the audience is never entirely certain if he is the honest broker he purports to be. He tells Asbæk that he wants things to run speedily because he has a wife and family to go home to. But where does he come from and who appointed him as the pirate spokesman? Moreover, how does he make his money and why does Porter not attempt to run any background checks on him to see if he has any experience in horse-trading or what he stands to lose by failure to clinch a deal. The fact that he berates the Somali who shoots Pearson implies that he is better acquainted with the brigands and has more control over them than his irate protestations of impartiality to Malling would suggest.

Although it requires a melodramatic contrivance to bring it about, the expedition has a much happier outcome in Roberto Rossellini's Journey to Italy (1953). Such calculation can be excused, however, given the importance of this picture to postwar cinema history, as its modernist approach to narrative had a profound influence on the young critics at Cahiers du Cinéma, who would go on to form the vanguard of the nouvelle vague. Six decades on, it's perhaps difficult to appreciate the seismic significance of a feature whose leads often seem decidedly uncomfortable with the demands being made of them. But Rossellini was striving to go beyond neo-realism and depict the hesitancies, tensions, regrets and petty cruelties of lives being lived and his faith in mundanity was rewarded with a film of rare intimacy, intensity and truth.

Having inherited a villa from a recently deceased uncle, childless English couple George Sanders and Ingrid Bergman are driving to Naples to arrange for its sale. As they bowl along the unfamiliar roads, occasionally being held up by livestock, Bergman tries to make conversation. But Sanders proves unreceptive and she is upset when he dismisses her reminiscence about a poet who had once loved her and had demonstrated his devotion by standing beneath her window in the rain on the eve of her wedding. Suddenly aware that this is the first time that they have been alone together in the intervening eight years, Bergman follows her husband into their hotel room with a heavy heart, as she has realised they are virtually strangers.

The next day, they are welcomed at the luxurious villa by housekeepers Leslie Daniels and Natalia Ray and Sanders gets testy with them when he can't find anything to drink during a lazy afternoon. The camera follows him between rooms and his frustration contrasts with Bergman's quiet contemplation as explores the National Archaeological Museum and possibly ponders how different her experience of it might have been with her now-dead poet at her side. She is still feeling fretful when she meets up with Sanders, who wishes they could just enjoy themselves and makes plans to see old friend Maria Mauban on the island of Capri.

Left to her own devices, Bergman continues sightseeing. She passes a funeral procession en route to Cumae and cannot help but notice the number of pregnant women on the crowded streets. After viewing some ancient Greek settlements and the Cave of the Sibyl, Bergman reflects on the fact that her poet landed near here during the Second World War and she is moved by recollections of his verses. Love seems to be everywhere, as she spots numerous courting couples and newborn babies in prams as she travels to the volcanic craters of the Phlegraean Fields and the connection between life and death is reinforced when she accompanies Ray to the Fontanelle cemetery and prays for a child in the catacombs, which are filled with unidentified skeletal remains that have been adopted by the superstitious locals.

Yet, when Sanders returns, after failing to seduce the married Mauban and thinking better of an assignation in Naples with prostitute Anna Proclemer, Bergman is less than cordial and they launch into a bitter row that seems to leave them on the edge of divorce. However, Daniels interrupts to drag them off to Pompeii, as an important discovery has been made and he thinks they should witness it. Amidst the ruins left undisturbed since Mount Vesuvius erupted in 79 AD, Bergman and Sanders look on as the plaster of Paris poured into a hole left by disintegrating forms is uncovered and she is so distraught at the resulting sight of two lovers clinging together that he has to escort her away. As they stroll through the calcified landscape, Bergman tries to apologise. But Sanders dismisses her thoughts on the brevity of existence and she responds by becoming icily cold. Thus, when he suggests they separate on their return home, she readily concurs.

They set off the following morning and are barely on speaking terms when they get stuck behind a religious procession in a narrow Neapolitan street. Bergman gets out of the car to see what is going on and is swept away by a surge in the crowd. In panic, she calls to Sanders, who pushes his way through the throng to reach her. She is worried for his safety and calls out to him and her concern seems to melt his heart and he tells her that he loves her, as he gathers her into his arms. Around them, the believers chant the word `miracle' and the camera discreetly moves away to reveal the wider scene and imply that this is just one of the many tales of daily life that could be told anywhere at any time.

As he had shown with Rome, Open City (1945), Rossellini was convinced that established stars could adapt to the stark naturalism demanded by the neo-realist aesthetic. However, Bergman and Sanders struggled to respond to his methods during a protracted shoot that saw Rossellini sprang scenes on his actors to ensure their authenticity and freshness and often left them alone for days while he sought inspiration. Such on-set tensions reflected the state of his own marriage to Bergman, which would end after they completed two further projects together, Joan of Arc and La Paura (both 1954). But if Rossellini emotionally exploited his leads to attain the performance he required, he and cinematographer Enzo Serafin made choice use of the region's historical and geological sites and the equation of landscape with psychological state would become a key feature of the cinema of Michelangelo Antonioni, who was just making his name as a director of refined dramas about conflicted urban women.

The initial reviews were hostile and it was only the enthusiasm of François Truffaut, Jean-Luc Godard, Jacques Rivette and Claude Chabrol that eventually led to the film being hailed as the first work of modernist cinema. Rossellini overdoes the references to the circle of life during Bergman's peregrinations, while he and co-scenarist Vitaliano Brancati (working vaguely from the Colette novel, Duo) struggle to find much for Sanders to do during his seedy sojourns in Capri and Naples. But he brilliantly conveys the culture shock that rouses the pair out of their passionless lethargy and amusingly mocks the clichéd impression that Italians and Brits have of each other. Moreover, he is not afraid of silences or of drawing attention to the filmic nature of the imagery (such as when the camera glides and swoops to record Bergman's response to the statues in the museum). Thus, Rossellini married location realism with the usually studio-bound mise-en-scène technique and paved the way for a transformation of European cinema.

Next up is a date for your diary, as the 20 May presentation in the excellent (ahem!) Parky's Pics slot at the Phoenix is Dan Hartley'a Lad: A Yorkshire Story, an engaging independent drama that will be followed by a Q&A session with the director.

Having completed five shorts while working as a video technician on the Harry Potter franchise, Hartley makes an accomplished feature bow with this edgily poignant rite of passage. There's a hint of Ken Loach's Kes (1969) about the story, which sees a teenager developing an affinity for the natural world after being entrusted to a park warden on receiving a community sentence for an act of vandalism designed to show solidarity with his recently widowed mother. But Hartley never forces the burgeoning bond in rooting the understated drama in the landscape that is splendidly captured in all its rugged beauty by fellow Potter minion David Mackie.

Thirteen year-old Bretten Lord is never happier than when searching for fossils in the Yorkshire Dales with his miner father, Liam Thomas. However, older brother Rob Hayes is reluctant to let him tag along with him and roguish mate Oli Exley and he gets a telling off from Thomas for abandoning him on the tops as dusk descends. Hayes gets his own back over supper by complaining that Thomas drinks and smokes too much and wife Nancy Clarkson joins in the good-natured chorus of disapproval.

But, while Clarkson is watching Lord play football some time later, news comes that Thomas has had a fatal heart attack and Lord's sense of desolation is exacerbated by Hayes's decision to leave school and join the army. Struggling to pay the mortgage on her wage from the village shop, Clarkson seems set to lose the family home and spends hours filling in forms and having frustrating telephone conversations with the bank. So, Lord borrows a tractor from a nearby farm and empties the contents of a muck-spreader all over the bank façade.

Caught by spattered traffic warden Andrew Taylor as he tries to beat a hasty retreat, Lord is taken home by PC Mario Demetriou and, while she can understand that he was trying to help, Clarkson is not best pleased when he is given a community service order. Lord is sent to assist National Park ranger Alan Gibson, who recognises that the boy is struggling to cope with the loss of his dad and eases him into the job over the first few days.

Meanwhile, Clarkson bets mine supervisor John Hayes that she can earn her HGV licence and start driving trucks for much better money than she could ever make in the store. Lord sells his precious rock collection to fund her application and begins to come out of his shell when he meets feisty 16 year-old Molly McGlynn, who is visiting Gibson from Cambridge and initially takes a dim view of the sulky kid competing for her granddad's attention. However, they soon prove inseparable and even do a makeshift assault course when Hayes is given leave from basic training.

Gibson is impressed when Lord reveals a talent for dry stone walling when farmer Nick Fawcett's sheep escape and suggests he enters a competition at the forthcoming fete. Indeed, everything seems to be looking up, with ex-Land Girl Rita Davies encouraging Clarkson not to give up when she buys a guide to lorry driving from her bookshop and Lord and McGlynn strolling in the countryside, trying to catch fish with their bare hands and sharing their first kiss during a picnic in an old barn. But Gibson knows that things will have to change when he gets a call from the doctor that his test results are in and he has to reassure Lord that he has the strength of character to go on without him.

Deeply moving, but charmingly down to earth, this heart-to-heart typifies the deft handling of incidents that could easily have become mawkish or melodramatic. Hartley also has a light touch with the comic episodes and the sweetly innocent romance that develops between Lord and McGlynn. But he rather lets the denouement drift, while the bonding between Lord and Clarkson doesn't quite convince. However, he coaxes wonderfully natural performances out of his inexperienced cast, with Lord and McGlynn sparking spiritedly and Gibson blending plain-spoken common sense with the robust paternalism that eluded Colin Welland in mentoring David Bradley in Kes. 

The scenery is, of course, stunning and Mackie cleverly uses its changing moods to reflect Lord's state of mind. Consequently, this not only succeeds in paying warm tribute to Al Boughen, the park warden who inspired the partly autobiographical tale, but it also avoids the `grim oop north' clichés and caricatures that have blighted many a well-meaning film since the heyday of social realism over half a century ago.

Another father-son relationship lies at the heart of Sasha Gavron's Village at the End of the World, a documentary profile of a remote Inuit community situated deep inside the Arctic Circle that departs markedly from the East End of London depicted in Gavron's 2007 adaptation of Monica Ali's bestselling novel, Brick Lane. Perhaps lacking in focus and never quite capturing the personality of the place or its people, this nevertheless provides a revealing insight into one year in the life of fishing folk who are determined to battle economic stagnation and environmental transfiguration to preserve a lifestyle and a heritage that have continued undisturbed for thousands of years before progress intruded as both a blessing and a curse.

From David Katznelson's first shot of Niaqornat, as it nestles on a rocky inlet pocked with vast hunks of melting ice, it's clear that this is a settlement worth saving. A caption informs us that it is Seqernup Kaaviinnalerfiani (`When the Sun Circles' or Summer 2009) and we see teacher Mathias Therkelsen reading the story of Noah and asking his smattering of students what future they envisage for North Greenland as global warming begins to kick in. But getting through the day is the major preoccupation for 76 year-old Ane Kruse, the oldest woman in the village, who points through the window to the houses where her many relatives live. Lineage is also a complex issue for 16 year-old Lars Kristian Kruse, who lives with grandparents Malene and Jonas and works in the local store alongside his unnamed mother, who has as little to do with his rearing as his father, Karl Kristian Kruse, a hunter-cum-fisherman who prefers his own company and trusts his own instincts.

Completing the quirky quartet under Gavron's scrutiny is Ilannguaq Egede, an outsider from the south who met his wife online and is now responsible for the collection and disposal of sewage and garbage. He jokes about his decidedly unpleasant work, but knows it has to be done and takes pride in the fact that he has been accepted by neighbours, who, until recently, worked in the Royal Greenland fish factory. Erneeraq Therkelsen takes us on a guided tour of the tiny facility and clearly resents the fact that strangers concerned solely with profit should have placed his home in jeopardy. Veteran hunter Nikolai Kruse feels much the same way, as he watches supplies being brought ashore from a Royal Arctic supply ship and the elders are concerned that this vital service will be stopped if population numbers continue to diminish.

Lars confirms that there aren't many girls around as he larks about with Arne Per and Nukappi, who are younger than he is and more into sliding down inclines than watching English football, listening to rap videos or making friends from across the globe on Facebook. Grandma Malene is worried for Lars's future, but he seems well adjusted for a kid who has never exchanged a word with a father who barely acknowledges his existence. Yet, as the calendar passes into Pueqqortinnerani (`The Time of Frost in the Air'), mayor Karl calls a village meeting and announces that he wants to re-open the factory as a collective, in which every resident would have a stake. His idea is warmly received, although Mathias is distracted by the imminent departure of his wife and children for the distant town of Uummannaq, where they can enjoy a better quality of life and not have to worry about the wilder weather that is making things increasingly difficult for Karl and Ilannguaq.

Conditions deteriorate into Kaperlak (`The Time of Darkness'), as the sun disappears and even the hardy dogs that run free around the village fall victim to the cold. Ane recalls that electricity only came to Niaqornat in 1988 and, over a series of old photos, she remembers the disconcerting sound of creaking icecaps and how storytellers used to come to entertain people with myths that are still cherished today. But the community spirit is greatly boosted when Karl captures a pregnant whale and everyone takes a turn on the ropes hauling the carcass and is rewarded with a cut of meat and a share of the blubber. Karl warns against hunting for sport and says humans should only kill what they need or Nature will spiral out of control. Lars admits he is too squeamish to hunt, while Ane points to a picture of Brigitte Bardot and jokes that no one likes her because she is opposed to fur trading.

Lars watches a video online for a pop song about suicide in Greenland and it is this sense of hopelessness that Karl seeks to counter by opening negotiations with the government to broker a takeover of the factory. A ceremony is held to welcome the returning sun as Sikusimanerani (`The Time of Ice') arrives and Ilannguaq explains how it took him a while to acclimatise to the way things were done in Niaqornat. However, he can now control a dog sled and ice fish and he hopes he is no longer considered an interloper. By contrast, Lars cannot wait to leave and makes a shamanistic `tupilak' monster in order to channel his darker feelings. He also checks out New York on Google Earth and longs to g somewhere even a fraction as exciting.

Meanwhile, with talks having ground to a halt over the factory, Karl makes preparations for a hunting expedition. Village administrator Lone Kruse says she worries about him when he is away and there is concern when radio communication breaks down, as the melting ice is so treacherous. He certainly looks a tiny speck in the vast white wilderness of an aerial shot and his task is put into context by Lars and Malene relating a legend about a shaman who had to comb the sea animals out of Mother Nature's hair after they had hidden to avoid capture. But everyone has faith in Karl and he returns with a polar bear skin and chunks of meat for his friends to put in their freezers. Proudly, he shows the camera phone footage of his kill and this tenacity is further in evidence in Seqinnerpoq (`The Sun Shines'), as fisheries inspector John Nielsen comes to see the factory and recommends that the village would make a better impression if it was smartened up a little.

Karl leads the tidy-up and Ilannguaq organises the reception for some 80 guests from a passing cruise ship. In order to present as authentic a view of Inuit life as possible, a notice calls for volunteers to wear national costume and traditional skin clothes, tan a sealskin, display Greelandic goods and host a visitor in their home. Ane welcomes three passengers, but they have no common language and she looks bored by their presence. Others discuss in-breeding and one waxes lyrical about how unspoilt by progress Niaqornat is, even though a young girl just yards away from him is playing on her laptop. The passengers buy souvenirs, pose for snapshots and pay their respects at the little cemetery and Mathias laments that there aren't more of them, as he waves them goodbye.

By the time Sikuarsaartalefiani (`The Water Begins to Freeze') comes round, Karl has been informed that Royal Greenland (who had cynically been driving a hard bargain) had finally agreed to sell the factory at a fair price. The villagers party to celebrate, with a game of musical chairs getting quite competitive. But the excitement isn't enough to prevent Lars from relocating to Uummannaq. He feels he needs to grow up and see something more of life. Moreover, he is hoping to get a girlfriend. Buoyed by the good cheer that follows the grand re-opening of the factory, he clambers into the red helicopter that is the only form of transport to the outside world and waves cheerfully as he embarks upon his adventure.

A closing caption reveals that he found a sweetheart, while another shows that Ilannguaq had been promoted to run Niaqornat's electricity plant. Most encouraging, however, is the disclosure that the KNT co-operative now runs a further five fisheries across Greenland and that the future is looking brighter than it has done for many years.

Charting the efforts of 59 hardy souls to avoid ecological, economic and emotional meltdown, this superbly photographed actuality discreetly examines how tradition and progress are being harnessed to ensure a viable future. Unflinchingly presenting the grimmer side of life, Gavron potently demonstrates how things have changed in the 90 years since Robert Flaherty introduced audiences to the frozen wilds in Nanook of the North (1922). But, while she makes deft use of interiors to reflect the personalities of her central quartet, Gavron never comes to grips with the landscape or its human or canine inhabitants in the way that Werner Herzog did in Encounters At the End of the World (2007). Similarly, she devotes much more time to individuality than communality.

Indeed, much more attention should have been paid to the physical and psychological strains imposed by Kaperlak, while the precarious ecological situation is barely mentioned besides an isolated remark about the ice only fully freezing in March. The relationship with the wider nation, the determination of Royal Greenland to fleece the residents over the halibut factory sale and the role of women in what is still essentially a patriarchal hunter-gatherer society are also left largely unexplored. Moreover, little attempt is made to explain why Karl treats Lars so callously. Yet, even though it could have been so much more, this is still an affectionate, affecting and ultimately optimistic snapshot of a culture overcoming the odds to survive.