Parky at the Pictures (In Cinemas 21/11/2013)

Then, leads Adèle Exarchopoulos and Léa Seydoux fanned the flames by claiming that Kechiche had been excessively demanding on set and that his perfectionism had meant that one of their bedroom sequences had taken 10 days to shoot. Outraged that his actresses had questioned his methods, Kechiche threatened to withdraw the film. Yet, they have all been doing the PR rounds recently and managed to maintain a level of civility and professional respect, while still clearly feeling the after-effects of an emotionally draining experience that has resulted in a film whose qualities lie well away from the scenes that have made all the headlines.

One is tempted to recall the accusations that Maria Schneider levelled at Bernardo Bertolucci following their fiery collaboration in the early 1970s. But this is no Last Tango in Lille, as it owes more to the humanist cinema of François Truffaut than arthouse softcore or internet porn. Moreover, the Cannes jury pointedly awarded the Palme to Kechiche, Seydoux and Exarchopoulos in recognition of their collective achievement. Yet, little criticism has been aimed at the stars for being straight and it does seem too easy to single out the 52 year-old Tunisian-French director for opprobrium.

That said, Kechiche does try rather too hard to cover his back at various intervals during the three-hour picture. He has Seydoux take Exarchopoulos to an art gallery where the nudes on display were all painted by men. Then, during the same party scene, he shows artist-cum-galley owner Stéphane Mercoyrol cursing the difficulty that men have in capturing the elusive essence of female sexuality, while actor Salim Kechiouche pointedly asks Exarchopoulos to explain the difference between sleeping with a man and a woman as academic Lucie Bibal debates the efforts of Egon Schiele and Gustav Klimt to do justice to the power and mystery of the female form.

But Exarchopoulos's erotic awakening is only part of the rite of passage that Kechiche seeks to chronicle and the great strength of this film is the care it takes in showing an 18 year-old's response to a range of social, cultural, intellectual and physical stimuli. In each case, her expression is often one of insecurity and hesitancy, as she comes to terms with a new discovery. Lesbianism is just one of these novelties and it could be argued that an outsider's perspective more authentically represents her unfamiliarity with the acts and sensations that are overpowering her mind and body. But Exarchopoulos's education (sentimental or otherwise) encompasses much more than mere genital gratification.

Seventeen year-old Adèle Exarchopoulos lives with parents Aurélien Recoing and Catherine Salée in a working-class part of the northern French city of Lille. On missing the bus from the stop at the end of her street, she takes the train to school. She is studious and enjoys the lesson on Pierre de Marivaux's unfinished mid-18th-century novel, La Vie de Marianne. However, she also smokes during break with her gossiping friends and Fanny Maurin teases her about handsome Jérémie Laheurte having a crush on her.

The morning after a typical family dinner in front of the television (Exarchopoulos has a hearty appetite and loves her father's spaghetti), she is surprised to find Laheurte on her bus and gets embarrassed as they chat about music and he offers to play her some of his own stuff as a pretext for seeing her again. However, as she is walking through the city centre, Exarchopoulos is so taken by the blue-haired Léa Seydoux, as she passes with her girlfriend, Aurelie Lemanceau, that she stops in her tracks and looks back to get a second glimpse.

The moment soon passes, however, and she joshes Laheurte over lunch about his efforts to read Marivaux in order to get to know her better. He admits he has little to do with books and only enjoyed Les Liaisons Dangereuse because the teacher explained its significance in class. By contrast, Exarchopoulos hates being hand-held and, when Laheurte kisses her at the pictures, she begins to realise that she likes him without fancying him. That night, she wakes from a masturbatory fantasy about Seydoux and tries to put it out of her mind by sleeping with Laheurte. But she lies when he asks if she enjoyed it and there is a deadness in her eyes as she turns away from him on her pillow.

Exarchopoulos confides in gay friend Sandor Funtek that something is missing and she goes home to comfort eat chocolate as she cries on her bed after dumping Laheurte on a park bench. She is soon out and about again, however, and treats a protest march against education reform as an excuse to party. But she remains focused on her studies and is touched by a lesson on Sophocles's Antigone and the notion that a tragedy is something that is unavoidable.

One lunchtime, Alma Jodorowsky sits beside Exarchopoulos as they smoke on the steps and she is surprised when her classmate suddenly pays her a compliment and kisses her. They part casually and Loiret comments over dinner that night that her daughter has the air of someone who has had a good day. But, when Exarchopoulos kisses Jodorowsky in the toilets the next morning, she backs away and tells her that the original embrace was a spur of the moment thing that meant nothing.

Mortified, Exarchopoulos accepts an invitation to go clubbing with Funtek. However, she quickly gets bored when he takes her to a gay bar and wanders off on her own. She ventures into a lesbian bar and takes a turn of the room before ordering a drink. Through the crowd, she spots Seydoux, who comes to her rescue when she is chatted up by an older woman. Exarchopoulos tries to explain that she is in the bar by chance and Seydoux (who is a few years older) teases her about being underage and straight. Seydoux reveals that she is studying Fine Art at college and smiles as Exarchopoulos strives to sound knowledgeable about American movies and winds up blurting out that she can be inspired to learn anything if she has the right teacher.

Once again left alone, when Lemanceau claims Seydoux to go clubbing, Exarchopoulos finishes her beer and leaves in a state of enticing confusion. She is surprised, however, when Seydoux comes to the school to find her and allows herself to be sketched as they sit on a park bench. Seydoux tells her about Jean-Paul Sartre giving a whole generation a sense of freedom and Exarchopoulos confesses that she struggles to understand philosophy before suggesting that Bob Marley also wrote about emancipation. Seydoux is charmed by her naiveté and asks for her phone number and their faces draw closer (with the sun dazzling behind them) before Seydoux opts for a kiss on the cheek before going off to meet her girlfriend.

Arriving home to a call from Seydoux, Exarchopoulos feels exhilarated. But she is brought down to earth at school, when best friend Maurin and the sneering Maelys Cabezon take her to task for cutting them in favour of Seydoux. They loudly accuse her of being a lesbian and express their disgust, as Jodorowsky looks on in embarrassment. When Funtek admits taking her to a gay venue, Exarchopoulos gets into a fight and finds it impossible to concentrate in class for the rest of the day.

Far from prying eyes, Seydoux takes Exarchopoulos to an art gallery and they picnic in the park. They smoke while lying on the grass and Exarchopoulos tries to impress Seydoux while finding out everything about her, including the fact she had her first lover at 14. As their eyes meet, Seydoux closes in for a gentle kiss and an abrupt cut takes us into a bedroom for a long, intimate sequence, in which the camera alternates between naked flesh and the expressions on Exarchopoulos's face, as she succumbs to feelings she had scarcely anticipated. But the physical thrill of a teenage crush soon develops into something more serious, as she accompanies Seydoux on a gay pride march and they kiss with the sun again providing a halo behind them.

Seydoux takes Exarchopoulos to meet her mother, Anne Loiret, and stepfather, Benoît Pilot. They have cooked shellfish and Exarchopoulos blushes because this is the one thing she doesn't eat. But she is given a lesson in how to savour oysters and they listen intently as she explains how she wants to be a nursery teacher. Loiret seems to sense Exarchopoulos's immaturity, but the ensuing sex scene suggests that she has long lost her innocence and now appears to be an equal partner in passion.

This middle-class soirée is contrasted with an 18th birthday party (which takes Exarchopoulos by surprise and she only gradually gets into the swing of things) in the tiny back garden of Recoing and Salée's semi-detached house and a spaghetti tea that proves something of an ordeal, as Loiret thanks Seydoux for helping Exarchopoulos study philosophy and Recoing asks what her boyfriend does. Trying not to giggle, Seydoux plays along and they are forced to keep quiet as they make love in Exarchopoulos's room. They lie entwined (ignoring the cot that has been made up for the guest) and Exarchopoulos promises she will do anything to make Seydoux love her more. The scene ends (as, indeed does the first part of the story - the French title is La Vie d'Adèle - Chapitres 1 et 2) with a shot of the lovers lying naked and unabashed on the bed - now, quite clearly a couple, even though their secret remains closely guarded.

The action shifts forward an unspecified period of time to show the now blonde Seydoux sketching a naked Exarchopoulos, as she reclines with a cigarette in her mouth. She is now a kindergarten teacher and evidently revels in reading stories to the children and having them join in dance routines. Despite remaining in the closet at work, she has also befriended colleague Benjamin Siksou, but resists his frequent invitations to go for a drink by pleading prior engagements. On this occasion, it's a party for Seydoux's friends and she has left Exarchopoulos to make all the preparations and cook her famous spaghetti. She is desperate to make a good impression and has laid out a nice spread in the garden and takes a deep breath as she hears the guests arrive.

Seydoux introduces Exarchopoulos with pride. But she is soon preoccupied with her friends and Exarchopoulos is left to linger on the periphery when not playing hostess. She eavesdrops on clever conversations, as gallery owner Stéphane Mercoyrol muses on representations of the female form, while Lucie Bibal discusses her thesis. Exarchopoulos meets Seydoux's pregnant friend, Mona Walravens, and feels uncomfortable at being invited to feel her prominent bump. She also senses a close bond between the pair and keeps an eye on them as actor Salim Kechiouche tries to make conversation by asking Exarchopoulos to describe what it feels like to sleep with another woman. He tells her about the action movies he has made in the States and urges her to visit New York, which he compares to a giant film set.

Everyone enthuses about Exarchopoulos's cooking and she feels like a good housewife, as she surveys the smart, chic people tucking into her simple fare. She dances in front of a screen projecting an old Louise Brooks silent and keeps a close eye on Walravens. Having washed up, she climbs into bed and admits to Seydoux that she felt foolish in such august company. But, in reassuring her, Seydoux patronisingly urges Exarchopoulos to take her writing more seriously, so she can feel properly fulfilled, and further hurts her feelings by going to sleep without making love.

Exarchopoulos is soon back in her element, however, and maybe even feels a little broody as she supervises the children having their afternoon nap. But, on returning home to find a voicemail from Seydoux apologising for working late on a project with Walravens, Exarchopoulos decides to rebel and goes to the bar where she knows Siksou is drinking with some other members of staff. Hitting the dance floor, she lets herself go for the first time in ages and responds tentatively when Siksou kisses her.

Back home, Exarchopoulos tries to keep Seydoux calm as she argues with Mercoyrol over the phone about a forthcoming show and accuses him of not taking her work seriously because she's a lesbian. She complains to Exarchopoulos about fads in art, but she doesn't really understand and says tensions between workmates are commonplace. Ironically, she seems distracted herself in the classroom and gets home from another drink with Siksou to be confronted by a seething Seydoux.

She demands to know who dropped her off and how many times they have slept together. Exarchopoulos protests her innocence and starts to cry, but Seydoux refuses to believe her and announces that she will not live with a liar and orders her to pack up and leave. Stunned, Exarchopoulos admits to sleeping with Siksou two or three times in the hope that a confession will lead to forgiveness. But Seydoux hurls a torrent of abuse that reduces Exarchopoulos to a sobbing wreck. She insists she was lonely and never meant to hurt her, but Seydoux (who has rather conveniently forgotten the fact that she cheated on Lemanceau when first seeing Exarchopoulos) is incensed and slaps her face before stuffing things into a suitcase and telling her that she never wants to see her again. Eventually, Seydoux pushes Exarchopoulos outside and breaks a pane of glass in the front door as it slams, leaving the distraught teacher to head home in the darkness.

Holding herself together, Exarchopoulos gets through the last day of term, as her pupils present her with flowers and she joins them for a dance display in the playground. The instant she's alone, however, she bursts into tears and struggles to compose herself before home time. She spends part of her summer taking parties to the beach and leaves her charges with another teacher so that she can swim in the sea and feel the sun on her face as she floats in the warm blue water.

More time passes and Exarchopoulos (who now needs glasses for reading) is teaching first graders. She walks between the desks doing a dictation exercise and then keeps the chatty class quiet, as they go through their answers. On her way home, she dozes on the park bench where Seydoux first drew her and later cries as she looks out of her bedroom window.

She arranges to meet Seydoux at a café and they kiss on the cheek before ordering drinks. Seydoux compliments Exarchopoulos on her new hairdo, but she jokes that it hasn't really worked, as it was supposed to make her look older and more sophisticated. She tells Seydoux how pleased she is that her art has finally been recognised and puts on a brave face when Seydoux says that she is happy with Malravens and adores her three year-old daughter. Aware that Exarchopoulos winced when she called them her family, Seydoux asks if she is seeing anyone. But she shrugs off the occasional fling and clings to Seydoux's hand and begs her to give her another chance.

Exarchopoulos kisses the tears off Seydoux's fingers and they lock into a furious embrace that is accompanied by some frantic fumbling under the table. But Seydoux pulls away and Exarchopoulos laments that her emotions are beyond her control. Seydoux suggests they don't see each other again, as they will only keep hurting each other. She promises she has forgiven Exarchopoulos and will always feel infinite tenderness towards her, but leaves hurriedly, as Exarchopoulos apologises for blubbing and vows never to bother her again.

However, a few months later, Exarchopoulos gets dressed up to attend the opening of a joint exhibition for Seydoux and Mercoyrol at a local gallery. Almost as soon as she arrives, she starts to feel out of place, even though some of the guests recognise her. She gets to chat briefly with Seydoux before she is swept away and Malravens graciously points out that a couple of the pictures Exarchopoulos posed for are in the show. Kechiouche spots her and asks if she has been to New York yet. He concedes that he has quit acting because he was always being cast as terrorists and is now making a decent living as an estate agent. He is lured away for a second and Exarchopoulos takes the opportunity to leave. She lights a cigarette and turns a corner, just as Kechiouche comes after her. But they head off in opposite directions.

It's clear from his previous features, L'Esquive (2003), Couscous (2007) and Black Venus (2010) that Abdellatif Kechiche is an empathetic rather than an exploitative film-maker. His working methods in this instance may not have been ideal (the crew also protested against the gruelling hours) and the sex scenes are overlong and could easily do without some of the slapping and Kama Sutrics. But, in capturing the pace of daily life and blending Marivaux and Maroh, he and co-scenarist Ghalya Lacroix (who happens to be female) have not only created a compelling portrait of a young woman discovering her true self, but they have also exposed contemporary French attitudes to class, sexuality, race, the arts, elitism, education, bullying, conversation, food, love and the status of women.

In his reviewing heyday in the 1930s, Graham Greene used to insist that the best films were those that portrayed life as it is lived and Blue Is the Warmest Colour consistently feels like a snapshot of an actual existence. Kechiche may have presented lesbian love-making from a hetero-male perspective, but he avoids objectification and it's ludicrous to claim that art can only be made by those with direct experience of the subject matter. Society would be much the poorer if writers, painters and film-makers ceased trying to understand ideas, traditions and lifestyles outside their own orbit. Their interpretation may be flawed, but surely the attempt must be applauded?

The sex scenes are undoubtedly the film's weak link, but they are essential to showing how Exarchopoulos not only grows as a woman, but also how she awakens the carnal side of the more cerebral Seydoux. Sofian El Fani's camera undeniably lingers on the naked torsos. But it also dwells on faces at other moments of intense emotionality and consistently frames the characters against the milieux that define them. Some of the contrasts - most notably between the parents - are a touch flimsy. But the dinner table sequences are still splendidly played and would not have been out of place in an Eric Rohmer film.

As with many of Rohmer's contes, the narrative is almost daringly formulaic, as it follows the course of so many tempestuous affairs (between lovers who discover they have less in common than they thought) that burn out and eventually reach a level of affectionate acceptance after a bitter period of resentment and recrimination. But not even Rohmer or contemporary Maurice Pialat could coax performances of such naked courage and raw honesty as those achieved here by Adèle Exarchopoulos and Léa Seydoux. It's all the more a shame, therefore, that the film has become mired in controversy, as, in many ways, it addresses Exarchopoulos's gloriously gauche question when she learns that Seydoux is studying at L'École des Beaux-Arts. `Are there arts that are ugly?', she enquires. Well, when they depict life and capture truth in such uncompromisingly close and authentically beautiful detail as this, the answer has to be, yes.

The week's second three-hour epic caused a stir in its own day. Adapted from Margaret Mitchell's Pulitzer Prize-winning novel, Gone With the Wind (1939) captured the public imagination long before the cameras started rolling, as producer David O. Selznick embarked upon a search for the actress to play his feisty heroine, Scarlett O'Hara. Apparently, 1400 hopefuls were interviewed before the part went to a cavalry officer's daughter who had been born in Darjeeling and had earned a reputation for being difficult while making half a dozen films in Britain. Indeed, in thesping circles, Vivien Leigh was better known for her adulterous liaison with Laurence Olivier than for her acting. But she threw herself into the role with a vigour that made her more than a match for co-star, Clark Gable, who had been the nation's unanimous choice to play Rhett Butler. Yet, while Leigh went home with an Academy Award, Gable (who was then known as The King of Hollywood) lost out to her compatriot Robert Donat for his performance in Sam Wood's school saga, Goodbye, Mr Chips.

The action opens in April 1861 on the Tara cotton plantation in Georgia, where Scarlett O'Hara (Vivien Leigh) lives with her parents, Gerald (Thomas Mitchell) and Ellen (Barbara O'Neil), and her sisters, Suellen (Evelyn Keyes) and Carreen (Ann Rutherford). She has a crush on Ashley Wilkes (Leslie Howard), but has learned that is to announce his engagement to his cousin, Melanie Hamilton (Olivia De Havilland), at a barbecue at his Twelve Oaks estate the following day.

As she flirts with the young bucks in attendance, Scarlett  catches the eye of Rhett Butler (Clark Gable), who has been disowned by his family. He annoys the patriotic southerners by opining that the Confederacy would be foolish to declare war on the Unionist north, as it lacks the manpower and industrial might to achieve victory. Moreover, he also overhears Scarlett proclaiming her love for Ashley, who lets her down gently by claiming to be more compatible with Melanie. Butler promises to keep her secret, but their conversation is interrupted by news that hostilities have broken out and Scarlett accepts the proposal of Melanie's younger brother, Charles (Rand Brooks), as he volunteers to fight for the flag.

Scarlett is soon widowed and goes the Hamilton home in Atlanta. However, her opinionated maid, Mammy (Hattie McDaniel), accuses her of going there solely to wait for Ashley and she is further upbraided by the city's womenfolk when she attends a charity bazaar while still in mourning. But Butler (who is aiding the Confederate cause as a block runner) silences the scolding gossips by placing a sizeable bid to dance with Scarlett and she mocks him when he insists that he will marry her.

Following the Battle of Gettysburg, the war turns decisively against the South and Ashley kisses Scarlett on Christmas Day before returning to his unit. By the summer, however, Atlanta is under siege and Scarlett and her house servant Prissy (Butterfly McQueen) have to deliver Melanie's baby without medical assistance. She summons Butler and he escorts her through the burning city and kisses her before going off to fight. After a perilous journey, Scarlett discovers that Twelve Oaks has been sacked. But Tara has survived and she is grateful to find sanctuary with her sisters and her widowed father, whose mind is beginning to fail. When Union troops attack the plantation, Scarlett vows over its untended fields never to go hungry again.

Having fought off a rapist scavenging on the estate, Scarlett succeeds in harvesting a cotton crop. But she fails in her bid to prise Ashley away from Melanie and finds herself facing an enormous tax bill when her father is thrown from his horse trying to chase away an interloper. Desperate to keep Tara in the family, Scarlett visits Rhett in Atlanta, only to discover he is in jail and that his assets have been frozen by the Reconstructionists. She goes to see Suellen's fiancé, Frank Kennedy (Carroll Nye), who is now a prosperous shopkeeper, and cons him into thinking her sister has married another man so that she can wed him and use his wealth to save Tara. She also persuades Ashley to accept a job as manager of Kennedy's lumber mill.

However, she is soon a widow again, as Kennedy is killed during a reprise attack on a shanty town where Scarlett had narrowly avoided a gang rape. But she isn't single for long, as Butler proposes to her and they soon have a daughter, Bonnie Blue (Cammie King). Scarlett resents the loss of her figure, however, and refuses to sleep with Butler, who rightly suspects that she still holds a torch for Ashley. They are caught canoodling by his sister India (Alicia Rhett), who spreads a rumour that Scarlett has corrupted her brother. Butler is furious and forces Scarlett to attend Ashley's birthday party, where she finds an unlikely ally in Melanie, who warns her guests against believing tittle-tattle.

On arriving home, Butler gets drunk and rapes Scarlett. He apologises the next morning and offers her a divorce, but she refuses for fear of causing more scandal. Butler takes Bonnie to London, but is forced to return early, as his daughter keeps suffering from nightmares. Scarlett is pleased to see them, but he rebuffs her attempts at reconciliation and she suffers a miscarriage after falling down the stairs in the middle of a blazing row. Soon afterwards, Bonnie dies in a fall from her pony, while Melanie collapses during the pregnancy the doctor warned could kill her. She urges Scarlett to look after Ashley, but never forget that Butler loves her. As she consoles Ashley, Scarlett realises that his heart had always belonged to Melanie and she rushes after Butler to plead with him not to leave Tara. He says any chance they had of a future disappeared with Bonnie and he tells Scarlett he doesn't give a damn when she insists she will be lost without him. But, as Butler walks away into the mist, Scarlett pledges to find a way of winning him back.

Despite the busyness of the plot, the making of Gone With the Wind is every bit as eventful. Although Sidney Howard would go on to become the first posthumous winner of an Academy Award for his screenplay, Edwin Justin Mayer, John Van Druten, Ben Hecht, F. Scott Fitzgerald and Jo Swerling were among the many to contribute to the finished article, while the homosexual George Cukor was removed from the director's chair at the insistence of Gable, who had him replaced with his macho pal Victor Fleming, only for him to pass the baton to Sam Wood, while he recovered from a breakdown.

The traumas proved worth it, however, as the film became the biggest hit in box-office history (and remains so on adjusting for inflation). Moreover, it converted eight of its 13 Oscar nominations and received two more honorary bestowals. In addition to Best Picture, Director and Actress, GWTW also made history, as Hattie McDaniel became the first African-American to win an Academy Award. However, her victory was tainted by accusations that she had played an Uncle Tom-type character and the picture was compared by some Civil Rights activisits with DW Griffith's discredited silent, The Birth of a Nation (1915), on account of its nostalgic depiction of slavery.

Yet, while this might be an historical travesty, it could scarcely be improved aesthetically. Ernest Haller's Technicolor photography, William Cameron Menzies's production design, Walter Plunkett's costumes and Max Steiner's score are exemplary and the much-maligned Selznick deserves enormous credit for imposing a single creative vision upon the project. The acting is also first rate, although occasionally implausible traits and actions ensure that Howard and De Havilland are overshadowed by Gable and Leigh, whose clashing stellar screen and classical stage styles add another dimension to Rhett and Scarlett's feuding.

Ultimately, this is a thunderingly contrived melodrama that romanticises a grim time. Its heroine is largely anachronistic and its hero is a cad. Yet, audiences in a world already at war thrilled to see women doing their bit for the cause and men risking all in the name of glory. Some 75 years on, such attributes remain admirable, but don't stir the soul in quite the same way. Thus, Gone With the Wind now not only depicts a bygone era, but also feels like the product of a distant yesteryear and, while it remains rousing entertainment, its artistic shortcomings are more evident than ever.

Following Funny Ha Ha (2002), Mutual Appreciation (2005) and Beeswax (2009), Andrew Bujalski takes his leave of mumblecore with Computer Chess, a technically audacious and thematically fascinating experiment in analog nostalgia that is somewhat led down by its scattershot plotting and muddled denouement. Some have seen this as a link in a chain that also includes Vsevolod Pudovkin's Chess Fever (1925), Raymond Bérnard's The Chess Player (1927) and Alain Resnais's Last Year at Marienbad (1961). But, for all the references to bogus 18th-century automata and surreal hotel encounters, this is always more interesting for its aesthetic than its content.

The scene is set some time in the early 1980s by grandmaster Gerald Peary, who is hosting a computer chess tournament that culminates in a man vs machine showdown. Recalling `The Turk' auto-player that secreted a man inside its clockwork mechanism to defeat such celebrity opponents as Benjamin Franklin and Napoleon Bonaparte, Peary uses an overhead projector presentation to chronicle the search for an artificial intelligence capable of defeating a human being and continues the discussion during a panel session with MIT representative Bob Sabiston (running the STASIA programme with the only woman present, Robin Schwartz), the insufferably smug and socially inept James Curry from Allied Laboratories, dogmatic maverick independent Myles Paige and CalTec's Wiley Wiggins, a psychologist who is babysitting the TSAR 3.0 software with programmer Patrick Riester because boss Gordon Kindlmann has been delayed.

Once the rules have been explained, the games begin and it soon becomes clear to Wiggins and Riester that TSAR is misbehaving. They seek a delay to run some diagnostic tests, but are forced to continue playing, as their system insists on reckless moves that keep causing them to resign. That evening, while Paige looks for somewhere to sleep (because his reservation has been overlooked) and the other boffins discuss AI while hanging out with drug dealers Jim Lewis and Freddy  Martinez, Riester tries to work out why TSAR is malfunctioning.

Meanwhile, African relationship expert Tishuan Scott is hosting a couples weekend in the room being used by the tournament and, having just completed an exercise involving burrowing into a warm loaf of bread, delegate Chris Doubek is sufficiently intrigued to ask Riester what the competitors hope to achieve. More concerned with getting TSAR set up for a game against STASIA, Riester makes his excuses. But the programme again acts capriciously and Wiggins is relieved when Kindlmann breezes in to take charge. However, he is unable to come up with a solution and reassures Riester that the defeats could be turned to their advantage in the long run.

Leaving Kindlmann with wife Anne Dodge and their new baby, Riester asks Schwartz if he can pit TSAR against STASIA again and she helps him push the cumbersome machine to her room. After a while, he reaches the conclusion that the programme wants to play humans rather than machines. Elsewhere, Paige wanders the corridors looking for a place to sleep and is offered the bridal suite when he tries to bed down in the lobby. However, he finds the room has been overrun by cats and an allergic reaction prompts him kip under a table in the tournament base, where he is awoken by Scott's group and undergoes a bizarre birthing ritual.

Riester puts his theory to Kindlmann over breakfast, but he rejects it entirely and the focus switches to a crunch game between Paige and Curry. Feeling frustrated by the way things have gone, Riester bumps into Doubek by the ice machine, who invites him back to his room to meet his wife, Cyndi Williams. She explains how dull life can be if one accepts the limitations of a 64-square chessboard and tries to tempt Riester into a threesome, but he flees in embarrassed confusion. As Peary awards the prizes, Martinez forces Paige to drive to mother Edith Mannix's place (in the only colour sequence) to get the cash he owes him for the drugs he took.

As the programmers wind down and discuss the prospect of computers being used for dating some time in the future, cameraman Kevin Bewersdorf shows Schwartz his state-of-the-art Sony AVC-3260 tube camera. Over at the bar, Wiggins reveals to Riester that the Pentagon is interested in TSAR and that he once borrowed some of its data for a personal experiment and was amazed when it began manifesting signs of independent thought. Processing this information back in his room, Riester is interrupted by Schwartz, who has noticed how people had been moving around the tournament room like chess pieces. But he is too analytical to realise that she might be flirting with him and bids her goodnight.

The following morning, only a handful of competitors remain for the challenge between Peary and Curry, which keeps being interrupted by Scott's group, which has double-booked the room. Thus, they miss seeing Peary lose his temper (and probably the match). Among the absentees are Riester and Kindlmann because the former is busy apologising for leaving his room window open during a storm and allowing the seeping rain to make TSAR short circuit. As the film ends, Collie Ryan accompanies herself on the guitar for `It's Gonna Rain', one of four songs by the reclusive 1970s folk singer that punctuate the soundtrack.

Shooting on monochrome Portapak tape in a 4:3 aspect ratio to recreate the look of 1980s video technology, Bujalski and cinematographer Matthias Grunsky have fashioned a visually fascinating film. They are greatly aided by production designer Michael Bricker, costumier Colin Wilkes and hair stylist Charli Brath in capturing the period look and feel, which is splendidly reinforced by the antique hardware and facsimile typefaces. But, while Bujalski muses intriguingly on our relationship with technology and how the processes currently being used to make Hollywood blockbusters will look equally old-fashioned in another three decades, he struggles to coax us into engaging with his characters.

Spoilt by The Big Bang Theory, audiences expect more of their geeks than glasses, bad haircuts and woeful dress sense. They expect wit and incisiveness to go with their physical gawkiness and social autism. But, no matter how affectionately they are presented and played, the programmers here are caricatures and no amount of dope smoking or acid dropping can change things.

Patrick Riester contributes a charming display of intellectual deference and interactive incompetence and his scenes with Robin Schwartz are exceedingly sweet. But the joke quickly wears thin as the belligerent Myles Paige stomps around the hotel in search of a quiet corner, while the colour digression feels utterly extraneous. The exchanges with the new age group also feel more mockingly contrived than fondly essential, although the sequence in which Riester fights shy of the over-sexed couple old enough to be his parents is grimly humorous. However, anything seems to go in this diegetic hotchpotch, with the initial mockumentary tone being jettisoned in order to focus on the travails of Riester and Paige. Yet, little effort is made to develop the characters or make sense of their respective predicaments. Thus, while this is always audiovisually mesmerising, it's pretty patchy and often feels a tad too pleased with itself.

A very different game provides the impetus for Simon Sprackling's Breakfast With Jonny Wilkinson, an adaptation of a stage play by Chris England, who was also responsible for the Olivier-nominated An Evening With Gary Lineker. Shot on a shoestring and set during the 2003 Rugby World Cup final, this is infinitely preferable to Ray Cooney and John Luton's 2012 take on the former's long-running West End hit, Run For Your Wife. But it's only marginally better, with some of the dialogue oddly presuming the audience's complete unfamiliarity with the sport of rugby union and several of the plot twists being risibly implausible. Moreover, this is such an unpleasant collection of characters that most viewers will have had more than enough of them by half-time. But stick around, as things get more improbable by the minute, as the game goes into extra time and the moment of destiny draws closer.

Norman Pace is the chairman of Greyhawks Rugby Club, who is hoping to boost his chances of re-election by hosting a clubhouse party during the World Cup final between England and Australia. He has the big screen ready for the breakfast-time kick-off and has even brought tons of sandwiches to sway the voters in the following day's ballot. As journalist Chris England arrives to cover the occasion for The Observer, Pace is a bit put out because there are so few people around. But star stand-off George MacKay is out on the pitch practicing his place kicking and Pace gives him his England Probables shirt in the hope he will fulfil his potential and make it to the very top.

As Beth Cordingly, the captain of the Women's XV arrives, Aussie coach Michael Beckley makes a noisy entrance with a cooler box of Foster's and a swaggering manner that is only matched by the bristling braggadocio of 1st team captain Nigel Lindsay, who has reluctantly come back from Sydney because his wife is expecting their first child, but who is still more interested in the match and has shown up in the nun's outfit he was going to wear at the Telstra Stadium. The party is completed by Gina Varela, the Aussie owner of the fitness club where MacKay has developed a huge crush on her and Beckley (who is running against Pace in the election) is employed as a dancercise instructor.

Beckley and Lindsay trade chants at the kick-off and England asks the first in a series of inane questions about the rules (as he is more of a football man). However, a sixth-minute try by Lote Tuqiri has Beckley crowing and Lindsay's frustration is compounded when his wife calls to say she is going into labour. Cordingly (who had, until recently, been Lindsay's mistress) tells him to man up, but he is distracted by the award of an English penalty. MacKay rushes on to the pitch, as he is convinced he is so much on fly-half Jonny Wilkinson's wavelength that any kick he takes will be replicated by the great man himself. And, sure enough, his attempt it successful and Wilkinson makes the score 5-3.

But, between the further penalties that give England a 5-9 lead, the plot begins to thicken. Beckley has cut a deal with Varela to seduce Lindsay so he can be blackmailed into voting against Pace. However, she thinks her target is MacKay and she wanders on to the pitch to ask him about his curious connection with Wilko and he reveals that she is the woman in the crowd he imagines he is kicking the ball to whenever he takes a shot at the posts. Meanwhile, England has slipped into the changing rooms with Beckley to offer him a handsome bribe to ensure that the ground is sold to a local developer. As Lindsay gets more calls from home and Pace frets about why no one else has bothered to show up, MacKay hands Cordingly a printout of an email he received saying that the big-screen coverage of the final had been cancelled because of flooding.

Just before the interval, full-back Jason Robinson goes over for a try to give England a useful 5-14 lead. But MacKay misses the conversion and he goes to take a shower to regain his composure. However, Varela follows him into the dressing-room and seduces him, while the others banter boorishly in the bar. As Varela emerges wearing Pace's Probables shirt, everyone surmises what has transpired and Beckley is furious with her for vamping the wrong bloke.

Down Under, Wilkinson keeps missing drop-goal attempts, as Elton Flatley slots three penalties for Australia to take the game into extra-time. Revealing he can no longer drink alcohol because of a serious medical condition, Pace wonders whether Wilko had such a poor second half because MacKay had been so wiped out by his half-time exertions. The lad is mortified that he could be costing England the cup and is even more shocked to hear England on the phone to his office telling them he has uncovered a corking story about a Jonny Wilkinson kick-alike, an Aussie temptress and a corrupt election.

Everyone unites to pin him down, however, and remove the tape from his dictaphone. But, in a bid to see how long is left on the clock that is obscured at the top of the screen, Lindsay bangs his head on the ceiling projector and the picture cuts out just as the scores are tied at 17 all. There is sudden panic, but Pace suggests they wait until the match is over and then watch as live the recording he is making in the office.

MacKay feels helpless because he won't be able to help Wilko. But his mood worsens when Beckley produces a copy of a letter from Newcastle Falcons (then Wilkinson's club side) revealing that Pace has sabotaged MacKay's chances of having a trial and Pace tries in vain to explain that he wanted him to stay in order to help Greyhawks win their first championship. Cordingly pipes up that the Women's team have already won their league and Pace agrees to support her bid to become chair.

They turn on the tape of the closing stages. Suddenly, the cast members appear in a floodlit mock-up of the final play, while, back in the clubhouse, MacKay drops back behind the others, as they watch with their arms around each other, as the ball pops back to Wilkinson for the drop-goal that will win the game. Forgetting the action is recorded, Beckley charges MacKay in an effort to block the imaginary kick and gets his arm broken. At the final whistle, Pace can't resist taunting Beckley, but Lindsay offers him a lift to the hospital. Pace quaffs his last ever beer and exits with Varela and MacKay, leaving Cordingly to tidy up. England (who has been in cahoots with her all along) hands over the tape of Beckley confessing his link to the developers and she smiles as she puts the photo of her team in a prominent position in the clubhouse. Things are going to change with a woman in charge.

Without once evoking fond memories of a rare triumph by an English sporting team, this is a workmanlike, but wholly unremarkable version of a play with more twists than jokes. The cast does what it can with the mundane dialogue, but the characterisation is so sketchy that it's impossible to root for anyone with much conviction. Switching between bar and field, Sprackling ably opens up the action, but the climactic tableau is as tacky as it's mawkish and the speed with which everyone kisses and makes up and then goes about their post-match business is speciouos in the extreme. This might be quite good fun with an am-dram cast playing to their mates in the audience. But the farce feels dated on the screen and nothing happening at this provincial club comes close to rivalling the drama unfolding in an arena ten thousand miles away. 

Staying at the cash-strapped end of the British market, Stephen Reynolds's Vendetta has already been written off in some quarters simply because it stars Danny Dyer. There's no question that the 36 year-old Londoner is not among the most gifted or charismatic actors, but he knows his limitations and usually gets the job done with the minimum fuss. This is very much the case in this brutish thriller, in which Dyer plays a renegade soldier picking off the thugs responsible for the murder of his parents. He's not the most convincing warrior and looks decidedly uncomfortable in his love scenes. But Dyer generates sufficient seething menace for this to lurch between set-pieces with conviction, if not credibility.

East End cabby Tony Denham witnesses a backstreet pay-roll snatch and rushes to the aid of the victim (Dyer's 17 year-old daughter, Dani). However, he uses excessive force with his baseball bat and kills one of the gang. Denham is arrested by detective Alistair Petrie, only to be released on bail. Shortly after he arrives home, however, he and wife Emma Samms are abducted by gang leader Joshua Osei and placed on facing chairs in their garage. Bound and gagged, they are doused in petrol and torched to death.

Son Danny Dyer is serving as an interrogation officer with a special operations unit in Afghanistan and misses the funeral. But he only has one thing on his mind when he gets home and tries to bully pub landlord Ben Shockley into telling what he knows. Estranged wife Roxanne McKee urges Dyer not to do anything reckless and let the police handle the case. But, when copper and childhood pal Michael Ryan tips him off about Osei's involvement, Dyer wastes no time in immolating him inside his own car.

Having paid a visit to Nick Nevern to tool up, Dyer plays on the insecurities of the gang members, who think that Osei was bumped off by bruising business partner Ryan Oliva. He is able, therefore, to dispatch Sam Hudson and Alexis Rodney without too much difficulty. The former has wet cement poured down his throat, while the latter is ripped in half when Dyer chains him between two cars. Petrie and WPC Tamaryn Payne are appalled by the ferocity of the crimes, but Ryan suspects that Dyer is using his army skills to avenge his folks.

Commanding officer Vincent Regan is also aware that Dyer has gone rogue and is determined to rein him in before his actions reach the ears of the media. He is also keen to bring him back undercover as he has vital information on the Talibam which he acquired by foul means that have also brought him to the attention of Whitehall. Regan snatches Dyer off the street and agrees that it is unfair that scum should be allowed to get away with murder. He gives Dyer 48 hours to complete his mission and informs Petrie and his boss, Sam Kane, that no attempt should be made to arrest him, as Dyer is a hero whose peccadilloes should be overlooked for the greater good of the country.

However, journalist Anna Brecon has got wind of the story and, when her editor leans on her, she agrees to publish even though it means landing Petrie in hot water. Dyer, meanwhile, has duped Josef Altin into betraying the location of Oliva's hideout and he pours acid over his head after slaughtering his sidekicks in a gun battle. But Petrie is bent on getting his man and he allows Altin to slip out of protective custody in hospital. They arrange an entrapment rendezvous on the banks of the Thames opposite the O2. However, Altin has exacted some revenge of his own and shows Dyer McKee's corpse in the boot of his car.

Dyer shoots Altin through the head, just as Petrie arrives with a SWAT team. However, leader Ricci Harnett refuses to arrest him when Ryan reveals that Petrie gave Altin licence to kill McKee and Dyer disappears into the darkness. Some time later, as a couple of muggers are brought to book in a back alley, Regan learns from security chief Bruce Payne that a unit has been sent to nab Dyer. But they both know this will be easier said than done and the film ends with the prospect of a sequel dangling dauntingly.

Although crisply shot by Halder Zafar to make the capital look a cold and dangerous place, this pseudo-slasher is often as thunderingly unsubtle as Phil Mountford's score. A restaurant exchange between Dyer and Simona Brhlikova is particularly cringe-inducing and some of the support playing borders on ineptitude. Moreover, several of the slayings are ludicrously contrived, as though Dyer was playing a psychotic Bond villain with a love of Heath Robinson rather than a trained killing machine. But this is no worse than the bulk of recent BritCrime offerings and, with some better one-liners, Dyer could cut it as a deadly silent type.

Making his first feature since Please Teach Me English (2003), Kim Sung-soo also examines the potential consequences of allowing illegal intruders to enter South Korea unchecked in Flu. Scripted by Kim and Lee Young-jong from a story by Jung Jae-ho, this credibly envisages how the population might react when infested with a virulent strain of H5N1 that kills those infected within 36 hours. But, while Park Il-hyeon's production design is on a suitably grand scale, Lee Mo-gae's camerawork switches easily between intimate handheld reportage and meticulously composed vistas and Choi Tae-young and Lee Byung-ha's sound mix chilling captures the cacophony of chaos, this is also a blundering muddle of a movie that asks audiences to invest in an eminently resistible central trio and seems to bend the rules of the pandemic to suit the more sensational and mawkish aspects of its already melodramatic scenario. Moreover, coming so soon after Steven Soderbergh's Contagion (2011) and Park Jung-woo's Deranged (2012) - which was produced by the same company, CJ Entertainment - this has the misfortune to feel rather superfluous.

A shipping container from Hong Kong arrives in Bundang, a residential district of Seongnam, a satellite city of the South Korean capital, Seoul. As they open the doors to release the people they have been trafficking, brothers Lee Hee-joon and Lee Sang-yeob are appalled to discover that everyone inside has perished in a gruesome manner. However, the sole survivor manages to evade them and head downtown, as Hee-joon quickly succumbs to the symptoms of the mutating and highly contagious form of avian flu that had killed his cargo.

At the same time as this, fire-fighter Jang Hyuk plunges below street level to cut doctor Soo Ae and five year-old daughter Park Min-ha out of their trapped car. Much to the amusement of colleague Yoo Hae-jin, Jang fancies himself as a ladies man, but Soo is far from impressed by his patter. However, they are thrown together when news of the outbreak begins to circulate and Soo (who happens to be a virologist) needs an escort to get her around town, as she searches for a cure against the clock that is ticking on Park, who has somehow come into contact with the mystery carrier. 

As it becomes clear that desperate measures are required, President Cha In-pyo orders Bundang to be sealed off and proclaims that it is worth sacrificing the odd few thousand not yet infected in order to protect the wider population. As foreign powers (notably the Americans) begin making demands of their own, Cha starts to waver and members of his own cabinet, medical establishment, armed forces and police elite come close to mutiny. Meanwhile, Soo keeps losing track of Park and Jang (who at one point has to clamber out of a mass grave as flame throwers are whooshing around him) has to come to their rescue. Eventually, the starchy Soo begins to warm to his charm. But she has no time for romance. She has to get to the lab, find Park, who has gone missing again, and find the absconded migrant, who might just be carrying the antibody that will save the day.

And so this fitfully terrifying, but mostly tiresome charade goes on. Kim Sung-soo wisely keeps the focus on the mass panic rather than the notional heroes and he is ably served by extras who write, cough and spew blood like real troupers. Editor Nam Na-young also does a decent job of flitting between epic and smaller scale tragedies, while Kim Tae-sung's score consistently reminds us how to feel, just in case the lurid images of suffering and hysteria are too subtle. Like many sci-fi disaster flicks before it, the science is risibly dubious (if the disease is so deadly, how come Jang manages to remain immune?). But Kim is only concerned with ensuring everyone watching thinks `what if' as frequently and as nervously as possible.

Ever since his debut feature, The Belovs (1994), Russian documentarist Victor Kossakovsky has opted for a lyrical observational style. He is best known for Hush! (2003), which he filmed from the window of his St Petersburg apartment. But he surpasses that eavesdropped snapshot with ¡Vivan las Antipodas!, a compelling travelogue that reveals the anticipated differences and unexpected similarities between places that are literally situated at the opposite end of the Earth to each other.

Apparently, any tunnel through the planet's core would be 7926 miles long. However, as two-thirds of the surface is covered in water, the majority would come out in the middle of an ocean or sea. But Kossakovsky has identified four pairs and makes stunning use of location photography and post-production trickery to compare and contrast them.

Most people will be familiar with Shanghai, the poster city of the Chinese economic boom with its population of 18 million and the world's biggest bridge spanning the vast expanse of the Yangtze River. By contrast, the bridge over the trickling stream at Entre Ríos in Argentina is considerably less spectacular. But there is no smog or traffic congestion here. Instead, fiftysomething brothers Abel and Orlando Perez have plenty of time to shoot the breeze as they man a toll that is lucky to get a couple of customers a day. No wonder they joke that a dog jumping into a passing vehicle will probably see more of the world than they will

However, these porch philosophers know their patch and can tell from the increased croaking of the frogs and scurrying of the ants that a deluge is imminent. The rain does indeed come and the shot of the ramshackle three-house settlement (which has no electricity) suddenly being surrounded by a flood tide is not only visually striking, but also very much the `crazy metaphor' that Abel proclaims it to be.

Further south in Chilean Patagonia, René Vargas lives a solitary life with his sheep and cats. He has acquired the nickname `The Condor Man' on account of his fascination with the gracefully gliding birds who share his remote habitat. But on the flipside of his idyll, Tatiana Frolova finds life lonely on the banks of Lake Baikal in Russia when daughter Alina Gajdukova is away at boarding school. The chatter happily while going about their daily chores and feast on fresh cranberries as Alina asks her mother what to do when you're in love with somebody who doesn't know about your feelings.

Kossakovsky uses the placid waters to reflect the craggy Baikal scenery that has its mirror image in Vargas's eyrie-pocked outcrop. But there are few geographical similarities between Big Island in Hawaii and the village of Kabu in Botswana. A longtime resident of the former, Jack Thompson watches in relief as the red-hot lava flow emanating from the volcano Kilauea passes a safe distance from his house. Leaving his dog Alias behind, he sets off on his motorbike to check on his neighbours and is distraught to find Alias missing on his return.   A magnificent match cut shifts the scene from the mottled grey lava to the hide of an elephant seen in close-up near to Lilian's kiosk. Bathing hippos and basking lions can also be spotted in the bush. But business is obviously slow and Lilian wishes those congregating outside did a bit more shopping and a bit less gossiping. Back in Hawaii, however, Jack calls on caravan dwellers Joe, Ginger, Luke and Noah Esposito in the hope that they have seen Alias. But his search seems destined to end in disappointment, as Kossakovsky makes another majestic cross-cut from the glowing lava to the magic hour sky over Entre Ríos.

The final pairing takes us from Miraflores in Spain to Castle Point in New Zealand. At the former, Kossakovsky alights on a rock that has occupied the same spot for millennia and shows it paying temporary host to a variety of ants, geckos and caterpillars. However, a fledgling butterfly seems reluctant to stray too far from the familiar landmark and its reassuring solidity contrasts tragically with the expiring carcass of a whale that has become beached on the Wairarapa coast. Measuring over 20 metres, the mammal is too big for the locals to move, let alone coax back into deeper waters and they simply have to stand around and watch it die.

Diggers hover as volunteers fire up a chainsaw and start preparing the beast for burial. It's a sad end to a journey that has enthralled and inspired. But the message is not lost that no living creatures are immune from either the caprices of nature or the passage of time and Kossakovsky uses this interconnected fragility to remind viewers of the responsibility they have to each other and to future generations to ensure that the legacy we pass on is as pristine and sustainable as possible.