Parky at the Pictures (In Cinemas 12/6/2014)

As his neighbours train their binoculars on his paddock, the immaculately dressed Ingvar Eggert Sigurðsson saddles up his prized white mare and heads on to the country lane. Trotting with the high-stepping flying pace gait, the creature attracts admiring nods from everyone it passes. Sigurðsson sings with pride, as he breaks into a canter and turns towards the home that Charlotte Bøving shares with her young son and ageing mother. The boy tethers the mare, as the grown-ups go inside to take some refreshment.

However, a black horse in Bøving's field has spotted the newcomer and it becomes increasingly agitated, as Sigurðsson strives to convince the widow of  his honourable intentions. He pecks Bøving on the cheek before saddling up to return home. But the black horse is nowhere near as reticent and, with the entire village looking on, it jumps the fence, sidles up to the mare and mounts it with the powerless Sigurðsson still on its back. Much to his horror, he sees the sunlight glinting on dozens of binocular lenses, as Bøving's son hands him his cap and leads the black horse away. Bøving watches on in dismay, as choral music booms out on the soundtrack and Sigurðsson gallops back across rough terrain with his head lowered. On arriving home, he strides inside to fetch a rifle and shoots the mare dead before falling to his knees, overcome with shame and distress.

Meanwhile, Steinn Ármann Magnússon speeds across country in his jeep. He nearly knocks a cyclist off his bike and curses the heavens as he stands on the bonnet to see a trawler setting out into the bay. Screeching to a halt beside a field of horses, Magnússon lures one over and slips on a bridle before hurtling down towards the beach. He plunges into the sea and the beast swims out towards the vessel, whose crew are watching incredulously from the deck. As he comes alongside, Magnússon announces that he has dollars and wishes to buy vodka. A platform is lowered for the horse to clamber on to and one of the sailors tends to the horse, as Magnússon climbs up a rope ladder to bargain with the Russian skipper.

He tells the stranger that he only has industrial alcohol for sale and warns him that it should not be consumed neat. But Magnússon waves away his protests and descends to the platform with his precious purchases. He nearly loses them as he remounts the horse and it slips back into the sea. But it strikes out for shore to the accompaniment of driving banjo music and Magnússon savours the taste as he takes a deep slug on stepping on to the sand. Swigging greedily, he rides back towards his jeep, which is still steaming from its earlier exertions. But the strength of the hooch causes him to fall to the floor retching and the horse nuzzles Magnússon, as he lies dead in the mud.

As Sigurðsson tearfully buries his mare, the locals gather in the tiny church for Magnússon's funeral. It is blowing a gale and Sigurðsson can barely look Bøving in the eye as he helps carry the white coffin. She stares enviously as Sigurðsson hugs Magnússon's widow and she wonders if her chances of a romance have gone forever. Meanwhile, Helgi Björnsson climbs down from his tractor to confront Kjartan Ragnarsson, who is cutting through a wire fence he deems to be illegal. As accordion music plays on the soundtrack, Kjartan Ragnarsson trots away on his steed, as Björnsson vows vengeance. Ragnarsson stops for a pee and a pinch of snuff. But, as he cuts into another stretch of barbed wire, it flies back and blinds him. He staggers to his horse and urges it to take him home. However, he rides into the path of the pursuing Björnsson and causes his tractor to crash down an incline.

Nearby, Sigríður María Egilsdóttir is trying to prove that she is just as good at wrangling horses as any of her male counterparts. Thus, when four animals escape, she valiantly rides after them and is more than a little peeved that she has to help the disoriented Ragnarsson. However, demonstrating the female talent for multi-tasking, Egilsdóttir erects a makeshift corral around the grazing escapees and gallops home to fetch an orange rope, which she uses to keep the errant quartet and Ragnarsson's mount together as they return to the farm to a combination of piano, accordion and percussion.

Egilsdóttir smiles with satisfaction as she passes Spaniard Juan Camillo Roman Estrada on his bicycle. He hitches a lift with a busload of German tourists, while she is welcomed home by her admiring colleagues, who offer her beer and snuff. But not everyone is enjoying their afternoon, as Bøving has summoned the vet to have her randy stallion gelded and Sigurðsson spies on them through his binoculars.

Estrada has found himself on a trekking expedition and tries to flirt with a female rider, as they set off to see some horses in the wild to a jaunty mix of banjo and piano. He falls behind the main party and dismounts to remove a stone from his horse's hoof with a Swiss army knife. A snowstorm whips up and Estrada quickly becomes lost. His calls for help go unheard and, as darkness falls, he realises he cannot sit freezing by the side of the road in the hope that somebody will find him. So, he kills the horse with a single stab of his blade and cuts open its belly so he can climb inside and stay warm. He sobs with relief as he feels the warmth envelope his hands and blood seeps on to the snow as he scoops out the entrails. As he huddles inside the carcass, a cut shifts the focus from a close-up of Estrada's face to the horse's before a dissolve shows a rescue party pulling him to safety the next morning and he breaks down uncontrollably. 

As the villagers assemble for Björnsson's funeral, an unwitting Ragnarsson sits with bandages on his eyes, while Bøving tries in vain to catch Sigurðsson's attention, while he serves as pallbearer again and makes a big deal of kissing the community's two newest widows. But Bøving hasn't given up hope entirely and she bids her mother and son farewell before riding off to join her neighbours on the annual round-up. Sigurðsson smiles at her when she passes him a bottle and he compliments her on her seat as the widows try to distract him, while making snide remarks to Bøving about needing a stallion. There are sniggers when she volunteers to take the nook with Sigurðsson and Ragnarsson teams himself with Egilsdóttir. Yet, as choral voices swell on the soundtrack, Sigurðsson and Bøving descend into a hollow to undress rapidly and make inexpert love under the envious gaze of the widows.

Bøving's cries of passion segue into calls for the stray horses and a high top shot looks down on the majestic creatures as they makes their way through river and pasture to their winter quarters. As a Morricone-like mix of banjo and piano plays, Estrada goes in search of Egilsdóttir, while Sigurðsson and Bøving have the pleasure of bringing the last horse home together.

Quirkily Kaurismäkiian, but also bearing the influence of producer Friðrik Þór Friðriksson, this is a film as eclectic as David Thor Jonsson's score and as handsome as the vistas captured by cinematographer Bergsteinn Björgúlfsson. Opening with a close-up of a horse looking quizzically back into the camera (with each successive protagonist reflected in its eye), each vignette has its moments of wry humour and bleak melancholy. Some even plunge into grotesque tragedy. But, such is the ridiculousness of the human condition, that death only feels truly sad when it happens to an innocent creature rather than to an alcoholic or a land-grabber. Indeed, such is Erlingsson's affinity for the horses that they are almost allowed to upstage the two-legged cast without being anthropomorphised in the slightest.

Yet, such are the subplots seething beneath the surface of this outwardly placid hamlet that it's difficult to take your eyes off the feuding, lusting, grasping residents for more than a second. The central saga between Sigurðsson and Bøving is the most consistently amusing, but, even while the others are a touch scattershot, they cast Icelandic manhood in a decidedly dim light. Its womenfolk come off scarcely any better, however, and one is left to wonder which species is more prone to indulging its animalistic passions and which is more at home in a volcanic wilderness they have shared for centuries, as it is forbidden to import horses under Icelandic law. Considering he hails from the theatre, Erlingsson does a splendid job of citing the characters in their milieu. But, while his compositional sense is acute, it's his judgement of pacing and tone that makes us forget that, for all its relishably simple pleasures, this isn't prepared to address the graver issues it raises with much depth.

While Erlingsson achieves originality and singularity without convolution, Pascal Chaumeil finds himself piling it high in order to make the promising premise work in A Perfect Plan. Adding Béatrice Fournera to the duo of Laurent Zeitoun and Yoann Gromb, who co-wrote his hit debut, Heartbreaker (2010), Chaumeil strives to recreate the screwball odd-couple chemistry that made Romain Duris and Vanessa Paradis so adorable together. Yet, for all their valiant efforts, Diane Kruger and Dany Boon simply don't click and the harder the scenario tries to make them seem suited and sweet, the more the action descends into charmless romcomedic contrivance.

Alice Pol has invited new boss Laure Calamy to share Christmas dinner with her family, as she has recently been divorced and is finding dating at 36 a dispiriting proposition. As Calamy bursts into tears, Pol tries to cheer her up by reassuring her that her family has been cursed with marital bad luck since the 1880s. But mother Bernadette Le Saché declares Calamy a crybaby and husband Etienne Chicot has to shoot her a disapproving look. Pol similarly glares at spouse Jonathan Cohen and daughter Malonn Lévana, as they discuss Calamy's misery in stage whispers, before she launches into a story about her sister, who went to extremes to break the curse of the doomed first marriage.

Diane Kruger has spent 10 idyllic years with fellow dentist Robert Plagnol and has readily opted to co-habit in the hope of cheating the wedding hex. She has even gone along with his penchant for rigid order, even though this means making love by timetable. But, when Kruger becomes broody, Plagnol insists that they marry because his mother would consider a child from the wrong side of the blanket to be the spawn of Satan. Desperate not to lose the man of her dreams, Kruger goes along with Pol's plan to exploit Danish law by obtaining a divorce after 10 hours of marriage to a complete stranger. However, the student who agreed to meet her in Copenhagen fails to show and Kruger decides to replace him with Dany Boon, the annoying Routard travel writer she met on the plane from Paris.

The garrulously self-obsessed fortysomething is surprised to see Kruger sidle up to him at a check-in desk and is even more astonished when she announces she is also flying on to Kenya. Keen to make a good impression, she lets him have her seat in business and plants a seductive kiss on his lips as she makes her way back to economy. On arriving in Nairobi, she follows his bus by tax and endures the embarrassment of falling into a hotel pool before booking into the room next door in the rundown Zebra Lodge.

She calls Plagnol, who believes she has accompanied Pol to a convent to recover from a sudden breakdown, and reassures him that everything is fine. However, she finds Boon boorishly obnoxious and her mood is scarcely improved by a breakfast bowl of supu that is made from such unappetising ingredients as goat's eyeball. Discovering she has picked up the wrong bag, Kruger takes Boon clothes shopping in the hope of enticing him by posing in tight dresses and her underwear. But she has more luck in getting him to talk about himself, as he reveals that he has not had a girlfriend since he was 12 and that he is really a Russian specialist who is standing in for an indisposed friend.

Kruger steers Boon into a church with plans to propose. But he whisks her off, instead, to Mount Kilimanjaro and bores her en route by telling her about the children's stories he writes as a sideline. Her spirits are raised, however, by a stop to climb an escarpment and survey the Rift Valley stretching into the distance. But, as Boon takes her photograph, Kruger notices that they have been joined by an inquisitive male lion and they have to play dead as if sniffs them and roars over Boon's head. Kruger is exhilarated by the encounter, but her mood is quickly darkened by the theft of their vehicle and the need to walk for miles across parched terrain in the hope of finding some tourists.

After a night in the open (during which Kruger tells Boon about the promise her astronomer father made to take her to the moon), they are actually discovered by Masai warriors, who take them to their village, where the chief is making preparations for his daughter's marriage. Kruger sees this as her best chance to wed Boon and sidestep the jinx without deceiving Plagnol too grievously. However, on returning to Paris, she is horrified to discover that Boon has registered the ceremony and her lawyer informs her that she will have to persuade him to sign mutual divorce papers if she is to be free in time for her big day.

Having stabbed Boon in the leg and face with a syringe containing Novacaine when he came to her surgery, Kruger doesn't hold out much hope of securing an amicable separation. So, she sets off for Moscow, intent on behaving so badly that Boon will have no option but to sign her release document. Although he is suspicious, Boon welcomes her to his shabby apartment, where she proceeds to knock over a shelf of treasured souvenirs and squeeze him a handful of depilatory cream instead of shampoo when he is in the shower.

Undeterred by losing his expensive implants, Boon takes Kruger to a reception at the French embassy, where she attempts to humiliate him in front of rival travel writers by telling the ambassador that she is a prostitute who met Boon in an online sex den. However, he laughs off the insinuation and takes her to a famous cabaret bar, where he is called up by the emcee to join a display of Russian dancing. Beginning to despair of ever being able to irritate him, Kruger calls Pol and rants about what a dreadful man he is. But she has failed to notice that his dictaphone is recording every word she says and he is so hurt when he hears her contempt for him that he signs the papers and wishes her a happy married life with Plagnol.

Kruger apologises for using him and asks if they can spend her last day in Moscow together. Boon agrees and she gives him her cap to cover his bald spot. He makes her laugh during a formal commemoration at the memorial to Yuri Gagarin and takes her on a zero gravity flight from Star City to make up for the fact that her father never got to take her to the moon before he died. They drink vodka shots in a traditional bar and Kruger kisses Boon passionately on the bridge in front of the Cathedral of Christ the Saviour. As he sees her off at the airport the next morning, he asks what she will do if she discovers that he was Mr Right after all and she smiles fondly as she reminds him of the family curse.

Back at the dinner party, Calamy has reached the conclusion that Kruger is an appalling person and Pol shushes her to continue with the story. During one of their regular ten-pin bowling nights, Cohen had convinced Plagnol that parenthood was the worst thing in the world and Kruger is dismayed when she gets home and he responds to the possibility that she might be pregnant with barely concealed horror. Before she can process the significance of his reaction, they are interrupted by a knock on the door and she opens it to Boon, who has brought the divorce papers she left behind in Moscow. He passes himself off as a Canadian cousin when Plagnol comes to see what's going on and once more extends his good wishes for their future.

But, when Plagnol mocks Boon when they go bowling with Pol and Cohen, Kruger realises she is making a terrible mistake and returns the ring after ticking Plagnol off for subjecting her to his boring routines. Le Saché proves less than sympathetic when Kruger comes for lunch, but Chicot follows her out to the treehouse that her father had built when she was a girll and tells her how difficult it has been living in the shadow of a man her mother had clearly adored. But he also avers that coming second sometimes has its advantages and he urges her to find Boon, who has relocated to Normandy and become a guide for English tourists.

He is surprised to see Kruger when she bumps into him in an old church and declines when she proposes marriage. But she tells him she has already had a disastrous first marriage and is now ready to commit to him. As he turns, a group of Masai warriors walk up the knave, while a man a lion costume roars from a balcony. A band of medieval musicians begins to play and Kruger starts to dance with the Cossack cabaret troupe. Overwhelmed, Boon sweeps her up into a kiss and all seems to end happily. But Calamy is convinced Pol has made up the entire fable, especially as Kruger and Boon conveniently happen to be in Copenhagen. But, when Plagnol drops round with some presents and Pol leaves him with Calamy to finish dessert, she begins to think there might be some truth in it after all.

A series of out-takes accompanies the closing credits and they prove to be no more amusing than much of the saga that has gone before. Yet, while this never comes close to hitting those Heartbreaker highs, it remains a genial time-passer that almost redeems itself with the charming denouement for some of the more stuttering plotting in the middle third. Chaumeil particularly struggles to prevent the framing dinner inserts from becoming intrusive and fails utterly to make Plagnol appear anything other than a controlling snob. Moreover, Chaumeil and his writers never finds a way to tone down the chauvinism at the heart of a conceit that requires a successful professional woman to debase herself in order to seduce a dolt and, thereby, live happily ever after with a dullard.

Glynn Speeckaert's widescreen photography is admirable, although some of the special effects are as creaky as the pop tunes used to counterpoint the action. But the real problem lies with the central relationship, as, while Kruger reveals herself to be an adept comedienne, Boon is too broad to convince as a loveable innocent. Consequently, their dynamic consistently misfires and, even though Kruger may wind up feeling liberated, one gets the feeling that it is the emancipatory experiences themselves she relishes rather than the rube with whom she shares them.

Following neatly on is Doug Block's 112 Weddings, which focuses on nine of the couples who employed the American documentarist to video their big day. Having already presented a trenchant study of his own parents' marriage in 51 Birch Street (2005), Block is something of an expert in debunking the myth of happy ever afters. But, while this wedding album intriguingly captures the shifting dynamic between the spouses and provides moving snapshots of their lives together, it lacks the time and space to delve more deeply. Thus, although Block addresses several key concerns and raises numerous pressing issues, he provides few answers about the institution itself or its current status in the USA. 

In voiceover, Block explains that he took up videography to pay the bills between film projects. He has always been fascinated by the way in which ordinary people approach the most extraordinary day in their lives and admits to frequently getting swept up in events and becoming exceedingly fond of his clients. But he never sees them again after the albums and CDs are delivered and, so, Block invited all 112 couples he had filmed to discuss what has happened to them since they last met. The majority declined to renew the acquaintance. But nine couples, one divorcé and two sets of unwed partners agreed to participate.

Thirteen years ago, Rachel and Paul Shapiro were Wedding No.32. They now have a son and a daughter and agree that things have turned out pretty well because they have worked at the marriage and always made compromises. However, they talk over each other constantly, as Block records them sitting on their sofa and it is not surprising to hear them dismissing the notion of soulmates. Eight years on, matrimony has lost much of its lustre for Couple 71, Jennifer Hyjack and Augie Alexander. He feared that tying the knot would ruin the relationship, but parenthood placed it under greater strain, as sleep deprivation caused endless rows. But Jenn insists she is glad she abandoned her career in television to become a mom and part-time music and art teacher and they appear content as she sings a song about hiccups to their son and tries to forget Augie's ungallant remark that he would never want to split up, but would appreciate the odd week apart.

Parental responsibility has weighed even more heavily on Olivia and Dennis Langbein in the nine years since they became Couple 49. Initially, they lived on a Mexican beach without a care in the world, but they moved back to New York's East Village to raise their daughter, Lily, who was diagnosed with a life-threatening illness just before her third birthday. Each dealt with the crisis in their own way and they agree it was a living nightmare, as Dennis became depressed and argumentative. But Lily recovered and they now grasp whatever happiness they can in the knowledge that they are probably only still together because she needs them both.

Block concedes to enjoying working with prospective brides and grooms, as they resemble non-actors facing opening night without a rehearsal. He also likes watching how families operate and speculating on who will wear the trousers in the new relationship. It's pretty clear where the answer lies in the case of Couple 28, African-Americans Jodi and Michael Smart, who have been married for nearly 14 years. As young man who still fancied strutting his stuff, Michael put off dating Jodi, as he knew she would be the one. However, he jokes that things haven't lived up to his expectations, as Jodi reveals that she feels she has wasted her two degrees in staying home to care for their daughter, who has learning difficulties. They agree that sticking it out was the right thing to do, but Jodi clearly feels that she has wound up with the fuzzy end of the lollipop.

As resentment lingers in the air, Block ponders why people are so keen to commit to binding vows when almost half of American marriages fail. Seven years ago, David and Janice Bromberg became Couple 83, but it seemed evident from the footage of the anti-depressants the pair were taking before they got spliced that things would not end well. They began to implode around the time that David wrote the screenplay for Justin Theroux's romcom Dedication (2007), which bombed at the box office and brought on a mixed manic episode that culminated in Janice throwing David out after he blew $7000 on books in two days. He claims to still love his ex and takes full responsibility for their relationship ending. But he also insists that she was a horrible wife, who was every bit as emotionally unstable as he was.

Needing to renew his faith in love, Block decides to include the upcoming nuptials between Heather Paulson and Sam Dodge and is evidently pleased by their affectionate byplay. He comes from a large family, while she was raised by a single mother. But they claim to have no preconceptions about marriage, as they will do things their own way, even if that means Heather killing Sam if he contracts a deadly plague. Jenn and Augie join David in urging the pair not to wed, but Olivia and Dennis declare that everyone goes through phases of loving and loathing, whether the bond is formalised or not.

This prompts Block to wonder how much signing on the dotted line changes a union. He consults lesbian photographers Anna Conlan and Erica Beckman, who aver that there are social benefits from making things legal. Despite swearing unconditional love to each other 13 years ago and vowing to remain life partners, Janice Gjertsen and Alexander Caillet have reached a similar conclusion and are now planning to marry for the long-term security of their two children. Rabbi Jonathan Blake, who has officiated at over 100 weddings, thinks they are very wise, as even though the institution is far from perfect, it brings emotional and spiritual reassurance, as well as more pragmatic plusses relating to social and taxation issues.

Heather and Sam remain excited at the prospect of spending their lives together and not even the caterer cancelling can cloud their horizon. Block is more sceptical, however, and notes that Hollywood movies tend to end with weddings rather than revealing what happens next. Couple 43, Yoonhee and Tom Roberts, certainly don't appear to be love's young dream, 11 years after they got hitched. They met over her violin case on an aeroplane and she laughs nervously as she recalls how opposed her strict Korean father was to their match. Ultimately, he did come to the church. But, even though they have since had two kids and moved to the suburbs, things have often been difficult and it's easy to see why when Tom scolds Yoonhee for acting as though she was being interviewed for True Confessions.

The tension is also evident between Olivia and Dennis, as they dismiss the notion of perfect partners. But the first couple Block ever filmed, Sue and Steve Odierna, have reached the end of the line and are preparing to divorce after 19 years. She was charmed when they first met in a bar and expected to emulate her parents in mating for life. But Steve appears to have had lower expectations, even though he lost weight after they were first married and gained in the confidence that transformed his career. Sue devoted herself to their three children and never suspected for a second that Steve was deeply unhappy with what were developing into parallel lives. But he finally confessed to going through the motions two years ago and it was only when he willingly moved out at the suggestion of a guidance counsellor that Sue realised he had another woman.

Sue was devastated by the realisation that she had been trapped in a lie for over a year, while Steve felt guilty for hurting her. But he also recognised that divorce sometimes happens to good people and expects not to be judged for his actions. However, Block makes it abundantly clear where his sympathies lie, as he films Sue leafing though the pages of her wedding album. He hopes things work out better for Heather and Sam, as they arrive in Helena, Montana for their ceremony. Dressed in her finery, Heather poses for pictures around the family farm with her friends, who flan her at the end of the shoot. But, while he delights in her happiness, Block can't help feeling that too many couples stumble into marriage without thinking things through.

Adam and Danielle Hark seemed made for each other when they became Couple 90 five years earlier. They had a lovely day and Danielle adored being the centre of attention. But a course of hormone therapy to help her get pregnant provoked a return of the depression that had blighted her teens and she began to manifest multiple personalities. Since the birth of their second child, however, she has become increasingly suicidal and cannot understand why Adam would want anything to do with her. He tries to remain positive for them both and hopes the doctors can find a way to treat a wife he obviously still adores. But this sad scenario causes Block to reflect that the unpredictability of the future places an enormous burden on him when capturing the full joy of the wedding day itself.

Sam and Heather hope they will still be an item 15 years on, but they concede that it is impossible for any individual to say how they will feel as part of a unit. They will become Couple 112, but they are pipped to the post by Janice and Alexander, who realise that they don't know the guests at their wedding as well as they knew the friends who had witnessed the drumming ceremony that they believed would link them without a sense of ownership. Yet they feel good about taking a step that makes sense on both romantic and practical levels.

Heather and Sam seem equally at ease, as they are respectively advised by the women and menfolk on how to make things work before they take their vows under a giant canopy. Coming full circle from the opening shots of Galina Portnoy and David Engwall marrying on a windy beach in Tulum, Mexico, the film concludes with Olivia and Dennis agreeing that they made the right decision, while Yoonhee and Alexander agree that you have to give it your best shot and hope that you eventually discover that you have picked the right person six decades on when the physical passion has finally died down. As a montage of 112 kisses flashes across the screen, Block wishes all the couples he has known the very best.

Lacking in social and ethnic diversity, limited in scope and prone to generalisation, this is far from a definitive record of modern American marriage. But most of the mini-dramas have their moments of interest, particularly when the surface cracks begin to widen under Block's far from onerous interrogation. His decision to cross cut between handheld video footage and sedentary interviews amusingly reinforces the suggestion that the first flush of energy has largely disappeared from most of the partnerships. But Block might have made more of the fact that only two marriages appear to have broken down irreparably, especially as none of the seven extant unions has adopted the same tactics to survive.

The chauvinism of the American male comes across loud and clear, as does the implication that children are responsible for as many break-ups as infidelity. The odd furtive glance suggests that monogamy may not be a universal given across the piece, but Block is too discreet to pry and, therein, lies one of the problems with the film. He met his subjects as a hired hand and only knew them for a relatively short time. Thus, even though he is an experienced documentarist, he is at a disadvantage when it comes to hustling for revealing answers, as he doesn't want to be a cause of friction between the couples or risk prejudicing them against the material he shot on their wedding day. Consequently, he is very much at their mercy and, even though they are clearly sufficiently exhibitionist to consent to appearing in the film in the first place, the majority value their privacy enough to guard secrets that might have made this a more substantial and, therefore, a more genuinely valuable anthropological artefact.

A stalwart of the BritCrime scene, actor Nick Nevern made a decent directorial debut with the 2011 mockdoc, Terry, which he has now followed up with The Hooligan Factory. Although he recently headlined the Paul Tanter duo of The Rise and Fall of a White Collar Hooligan (2012) and White Collar Hooligan 2: England Away (2013), Nevern had opted to base this laddish lampoon on four `classics' of the ruck genre: Lexi Alexander's Green Street (2005), Julian Gilbey's Rise of the Footsoldier (2009) and Nick Love's The Football Factory and his 2009 remake of Alan Clarke's ferocious 1989 teleplay, The Firm. The parody is actually well observed and lots of familiar faces sportingly send themselves up. But the gags fall flat far too often for this to be anything more than a glorified in-joke.

Apparently, Nevern's draft screenplay was entitled Not Another Danny Dyer Movie and the man himself features in an opening skit on the denouement of Tanter's The Fall of the Essex Boys (2013), as assassin Tamer Hassan blows Dyer's head off through the passenger window of a parked car before co-conspirator Craig Fairbrass recognises driver Jason Maza and apologises for ambushing the wrong vehicle. This flashback to 1995 sets the benchmark for the humour level, as Nevern and fellow writer Michael Lindley proceed to sketch in Maza's past, as the son of short-fused nutter Ronnie Fox, who was jailed for assaulting a Manchester United scout and forcing a judge to eat his own wig. When not falling foul of paedophile teacher Brett Goldstein, Maza was raised by grandfather Ian Lavender. But, as the action returns to the present, he is about to emigrate to Australia with a mate (the first in a series of bromance jokes that just about remain the right side of homophobia) and Maza needs somewhere new to crash.

When best buddy Alex Austin lets him down when they are mugged in a treacherous underpass by alopecia-afflicted skinhead Nick Grunshaw, Maza is rescued by Nick Nevern, a legendarily hard moustachioed football hooligan who has just been released from solitary confinement in ShowerShank Prison. He is bent on settling a score with Keith-Lee Castle, the leader of a rival firm, and heads to the Iron Hoof pub to reunite with old pals Ray Fearon, Morgan Watkins and Josef Altin, as well as several other geezers possessing supposedly witty nicknames. They accept Maza on Nevern's say so, but second-in-command Tom Burke is more suspicious, even though he has no problems trusting Steven O'Donnell, who is clearly an undercover cop.

Maza is puzzled why nobody has rumbled the plant and is even more flummoxed when Nevern fails to realise that wife Lorraine Stanley has had a black baby with Fearon, who was looking after her while Nevern was inside. However, while looking at old photos, Maza learns that Castle caused Nevern's first son to drown in a river during a rumble in the park and he is willing to do whatever it takes to avenge him. Following a weak gag about self-inflicted tattoos, Nevern leads his troops into the pole-dancing club hosting the 25th annual hooligan convention, where Brighton thug Leo Gregory is trying to limit the number of  autobiographies being published by his fellow ruckers. However, rather than intimidating Castle and his cohorts, Nevern is mocked for being out of touch and he stalks out in embarrassment.

A montage follows, in which the red tracksuited Nevern is mistaken for a pillar box, Maza sleeps rough and the rest of the crew go back to work at their florist shop. But Maza has always been one to stand his ground and he coaxes Nevern into resuming control of the firm and rebuilding its feared reputation. The pair hug tentatively and Nevern decks Maza out in a blue tracksuit before they start working as bouncers and hired muscle to raise the funds for the new football season. While providing security at a rave, however, Nevern and Fearon swallow some pills and stop the music when they kiss with their shirts off. But, while they can barely look each other in the eye from hereon in, they make enough from dealing these love pills to hire a coach to take the factory to clashes in Brighton, Manchester, Liverpool and Ipswich.

Besides an amusing moment when Maza is chastised for breaking ranks during the verbals to punch Gregory's bespectacled oppo Jamie Graham in the face, the ensuing scrap montage quickly becomes repetitive and it comes as something of a relief when Castle summons Nevern to a showdown at the site of his son's death. Nevern orders Maza to stay away, as he doesn't want to lose another loved one, while Fearon announces he is quitting the gang. But Maza stands shoulder to shoulder with his mate, while Fearon arrives in the nick of time to prevent him being from knifed by the treacherous Castle. But, just as victory appears to be in sight, Castle pulls a gun and the dying Nevern begs Fearon to raise his son as his own and peels off his tash to stick it on Maza's upper lip. 

Locked in the cells, Maza still can't fathom why the others haven't twigged that O'Donnell is a plod. Indeed, Burke is convinced that one of the others must have grassed on them. But Maza takes his new role of leader seriously and he punches O'Donnell when he offers to let him go free and a closing caption reveals that he has since established himself in Marbella, although that is another story altogether.

While one hopes that this is a throwaway threat rather than advance notice of a sequel, it has to be said that this romp is nowhere near as dire as it could so easily have been. Nevern and Lindley scrape the barrel a few times and push their luck with some of the more chauvinist caricatures. But they largely succeed in their aim of amusing themselves and those who will recognise the running gag at the expense of Phil Davis's undercover thug saga, ID (1995). The performances are suitably knowing and aficionados can enjoy spotting cameos by the likes of Dexter Fletcher, Jamie Foreman, Tony Denham, TOWIE star Chloe Sims, Tony `Omlette' Noble, ex-West Ham full-back Julian Dicks and onetime hooligan Cass Pennant. But, apart from noting the competence of Ali Asad's photography, Lewis Albrow's editing and Tom Linden's score, there's little point in offering a detailed assessment of this hit-and-miss scrimash, as it will appeal to its demographic and appal just about everybody else.  

In 2001, Boyd Hicklin followed a Melbourne league cricket team called the Abbotsford Anglers on a tour of the subcontinent. The resulting documentary, Save Your Legs (2005), has now been fictionalised by Brendan Cowell and it is safe to say that Knocked for Six comes closer in tone to Richard Harris's Outside Edge (1979) than Ashutosh Gowariker's Lagaan (2001). Indeed, in following a group of middle-aged men who aren't yet ready to admit they are no longer full of youthful vim and vinegar, this has a lot in common with Downhill, which went on general release a couple of weeks ago. By comparison, James Rouse's debut is a considered work of insightful genius and it seems baffling that this plodding 2012 mediocrity wasn't either released during last year's Ashes series or was at least timed to coincide with this summer's visit of India.

Having finished 9th in a D-grade season that saw them lose eight, forfeit three and win four games, the Abbotsford Anglers seem pretty pleased to put their bats and pads away for another winter. However, club president Stephen Curry has been obsessed with cricket ever since he first saw Sachin Tendulkar play at the Melbourne Cricket Ground at the age of 14. Indeed, his proudest possession remains the Little Master's abdominal protector. So, when he learns from Darshan Jariwala that a team due to represent Australia in a three-match tournament in India has withdrawn at the eleventh hour, the thirtysomething Curry is keen to coerce his fellow Anglers into stepping into the breach so they can have something to remember when they finally hang up their boots.

Opening batsman Brendan Cowell (who lets Curry live in his garage) has his doubts, as his wife is expecting a baby. But statistician Darren Gilshenan is very keen and helps Curry persuade the egotistical Damon Gameau, the tubby Eddie Baroo and the enigmatic David Lyons into making the trip. They also uncover a handy ringer in callow Brenton Thwaites during an indoor net session and jet off wearing  blue-and-yellow blazers and straw boaters to make a good impression on landing in Kolkata. However, despite his efforts to sample local market life and be a good ambassador, Curry spills a glass of water over himself at the press conference and tournament organiser Prithvi Zutshi wonders what to expect next when Cowell gets drunk at a reception and falls off a table.

Curry does make the acquaintance of Jariwala's daughter, Pallavi Sharda, and is more than a little miffed when the dashing Gameau sweeps her away. But he has more to worry about when the Anglers are thrashed in their opening game against Kolkata Tramways, which is played on a dustbowl of a pitch that also happens to be a thoroughfare for goats. He also makes the fatal mistake of sampling the local cuisine during a firework reception and spends much of the train journey to Varanasi locked in the lavatory. Still feeling queasy after hallucinating in his room, he manages to sit on the banks of the Ganges and watch kids flying kites while chatting to Sharda. But, that night, Curry reels into the backstreets after Cowell informs him that he is moving away and quitting the team and he finds himself caught up in a raucous Durga Puja festival.

Returning to the hotel covering in pink powder, Curry picks a fight with cocky Bollywood actor Sid Makkar before embarrassing Sarda in front of her father. The following morning, he argues with Cowell, who breaks the plinth on which Curry keeps Tendulkar's box and the team arrive for the match against the Varanasi Toymakers in low spirits and without their skipper. However, they stand a chance of winning after limiting the home side to 163. But a furious argument between Gameau and Thwaites prompts the latter to throw away his wicket in protest and Curry is forced to plead with Jariwala to bat at No11 so that he can knock off the runs needed at the other end. However, some confused calling results in Curry being run out and Jariwala being rushed to hospital after a heart attack.

Sarda tells Curry to grow up and he is so disappointed by the lack of support he has received from Cowell and Gameau that he decides to go home. While waiting at Mumbai airport, however, he sees news of Tendulkar's retirement on the television and rushes back to the team hotel to see the tour out with his mates. As they party, Makkar challenges them to a game against his team and they trot out in new multi-coloured togs to play Bollywood Magic in front of a packed house and star commentator Shibani Dandekar.

As Thwaites is still sulking, Sarda takes his place and fields well as Makkar goes on a hitting spree before he is teased out by one of Lyons's fiendish spinners. Set 187 for victory, the Anglers start well. But they lose wickets steadily after Cowell is out and falls to the famously cautious Curry to hit the last ball for six in partnership with Gameau. The result, however, is never in doubt as Makkar charges in to bowl in his golden kit and the post-match huddle segues into a masala rendition of the 10cc hit, `Dreadlock Holiday' that culminates in a most unBollywood-like kiss between Curry and Sarda

Devoid of laughs and stuffed with cricketing, ocker and subcontinental clichés and caricatures, this is a feeble effort that wastes a willing cast and some spectacular locations. Stephen Curry tries particularly hard, but he is constantly confounded by Cowell's crass script and Hicklin's heavy handed direction. The feuds between the players lack any kind of conviction and occur simply to allow the scenario to lurch from one lame incident to the next, while the sporting sequences are clumsily staged. Even half-decent gags like the Indian band playing the Channel 9 highlights theme are frittered away, as Hicklin loses sight of the actuality that inspired the story and allows himself to be dazzled by the bright lights of Bollywood. In his defence, worthwhile films about cricket are scarce, with India contributing more than its share of flops. But the discerning viewer should give this a miss and rent Anthony Asquith's The Final Test (1953) on DVD instead.

The sporting action is all too terrifyingly real in Dermot Lavery and Michael Hewitt's documentary, Road, which focuses on the Dunlop dynasty from Ballymoney in Northern Ireland that has been dominating motorcycle road racing since the late 1970s. Narrated by Liam Neeson and making g-force use of archival and onboard footage, this is a harrowing account of courage, glory and tragedy that opens with a timely reminder about the damage that the `furniture' on an open road circuit can inflict upon the human body and a sobering quotation from Milan Kundera that a man bent over the handlebars of a motorbike is free from the future because he has to focus so completely on the present.

Writer and photographer Stephen Davison, road racer-turned-commentator Murray Walker and champion rider John McGuinness all concur that nobody would race motorbikes on everyday roads unless there was an element of danger involved. The season runs between April and September, with the highest-profile events being held in Ulster and the Isle of Man. As the film starts, William and Michael Dunlop are competing at the Cookstown 100 in April 2012 and each agrees that road racing is an all-consuming passion. Robert says it turns the best into selfish obsessives, while William suggests that the thrill is so vital that danger becomes insignificant. Yet, as Davison infers, luck is as central to success in this sport as skill and few are more aware of this than the Dunlops.

The first of many point-of-view shots gives the viewer an idea of what a rider sees as he hurtles along winding country lanes flanked by potentially hazardous walls, trees, street lights and traffic signs. And it was on these very roads that Joey Dunlop began racing with brother Jim, brother-in-law Mervyn Robinson and best mate Frank Kennedy in the late 70s. Buddy Liam Beckett remembers how they were bitten by the bug and how the two-stroke machines they rode were so finely tuned that they almost shifted like missiles. However, Kennedy was among three riders to perish during the North West 200 race in May 1979 and, when Robinson lost his life the following year, Joey considered jacking it all in. But, in spite of the pain, he won the famous TT Races a fortnight later and, having conquered the 37-mile circuit that has claimed nearly 130 lives (including the two riders who died in recent weeks), all thoughts of retirement were forgotten.

Indeed, Joey turned professional with Honda and won the world championship five times in a row. McGuinness admits to having pictures of his idol plastered over his bedroom walls, but manager Barry Symmons insists that Joey was an ordinary chap who shunned the limelight whenever he could and was always happier tinkering with a spanner than clinking champagne glasses. Daughter Donna McLean concurs that he steered clear of the press, while sponsor John Harris insists that he didn't have an enemy in the world and just loved to ride.

A harsh reminder of the unpredictability of the sport comes courtesy of a helicopter shot of William crashing at the North West 200. But competing is in the blood, as his father Robert was desperate to follow brother Joey on to the circuit. Sister Linda Lavery and wife Louise recall how Robert used to milk the media attention as he never expected to be in the spotlight for long. But he became sufficiently hooked and adept to ditch his jack the lad image and dedicate himself to making enough money from racing to open a hotel. Once he took the British title, however, Robert couldn't walk away and William and Michael were inspired to follow in his tyre tracks. Indeed, Lavery and Hewitt provide a direct comparison between father and son by splitting the screen to show bike-cam footage of Robert and Michael riding the North West 200 course in 1992 and 2012.

Yet, as Neeson reminds the audience over close-ups of spectacular crashes, the line between triumph and tragedy was very thin and death was never more than a heartbeat away. Robert admits in an old interview that he often thought about God at the beginning of a road race, which he never did when he was competing on a closed circuit. But he faced his fears at the TT in May 1994 and set off in confident mood for his first race. However, he was soon reported missing and Beckett remembers being summoned to the trauma room, where he was told that the next 48 hours would be crucial. As a pool of thick blood coagulated on the floor, Robert told Beckett that his rear wheel had sheared off and he had slammed into a stone wall. Yet, even though the surgeon initially feared that he would lose his right leg, Robert made a remarkable recovery and was back racing within a couple of years, albeit with reduced strength in his right arm because of the nerve damaged caused by a dropped wrist.

As Robert recovered, Joey kept competing into his 40s. Victories became scarcer, but sponsor Andy McMenemy recognised that racing was his life and backed him all the way. Between events, Joey would often make a 4000-mile round trip across Europe to take supplies to orphanages in Bosnia and Romania and charity worker Siobhan Carter recalls both his readiness to help and his reluctance to have his efforts publicised. On occasions, he would enter races on the continent and footage shows him dislocating his shoulder in a nasty spill in Latvia. Once again, Joey contemplated retirement, but the lure of the sport proved too strong.

As the 2012 TT Races get underway, William and Michael pay close attention to the maintenance of their machines. Neeson avers that, at speeds approaching 200mph, a rider has to have absolute trust in his bike and Jim Dunlop recalls how brother Robert took his time before he was ready to risk his life again on a speeding piece of metal and rubber. But he did return in 1996, with a lightweight bike that had been modified so that that the brake was on the left-hand side. However, before he lined up for the North West 200, organiser Billy Nutt noticed Robert having difficulty cutting a piece of meat and decided that he would be a danger to himself and others if he lacked the requisite control of his bike. The subsequent ban remained in place until 1998, when Robert broke a collar bone on his first outing and was only spared another shattered leg by the pin that had been inserted after his last accident.

Within two weeks, however, Robert was on the podium at the TT and Davison proclaims him the toughest man in the history of the sport. He becomes misty eyed as he recalls how Robert needed crutches to get on to the stage during the prize-giving ceremony and yet proceeded to toss them into the crowd to demonstrate that he was back and raring to go for more. However, by the time the Dunlops returned to the Isle of Man in May 2000, Robert was virtually managing his older brother in a bid to ensure that he had one more memorable TT moment. Joey's son Gary remembers how determined Robert was for his dad to win again after a decade and reigning champion John McGuinness concedes that, on this occasion, there was simply no stopping him. Daughter Donna claims that she never saw Joey so happy, as he had tasted victory at the age of 48, 23 years after his first win on the island and 30 years after he started racing.

This single-minded approach lives on in Joey's nephews, as both William and Michael win races at the Ulster Grand Prix in August 2012, with the latter bouncing back after a spill. But, back in 2000, Joey didn't get to enjoy his success for long. Shortly after an open-top bus procession, he learned that McMenemy had committed suicide and Joey decided to enter a July race in Estonia to compose his thoughts. He drove himself to Tallinn in his trusty van and spent the night sleeping in the front seat rather than in the hotel suite that bore his name. Sponsor John Harris had accompanied Joey on the trip and he remembers him changing a front wheel after a sighting lap, as the heavily wooded circuit was saturated after heavy rain. But, on the second run, he skidded at a waterlogged corner and crashed into a tree. Harris fights back the tears as he recalls following the clerk of the course to the spot and Davison reflects on the awful fact that this consummate professional simply made a mistake and that one second among many thousands of hours of excellence cost him his life.

Joey Dunlop's death shocked road racing, as he was such a meticulous rider that nobody believed he would ever become a statistic. His mother May recalls the agony she experienced on hearing the news and Linda remembers drawing solace from the 50,000 crowd that lined the streets for his funeral. Robert was devastated by the loss and Beckett was sure he would never race again. But, six weeks later, he was back in harness and told an interviewer that he had to go on because Joey had died doing what he loved and that he knew no better way to pay tribute to his memory.

But, soon, Robert had another reason to compete, as William and Michael had started to make their own way in the sport and their father very much felt like one of the boys again. Louise understood that Robert wanted the best for their sons, but also had his own dreams to fulfil and the 47 year-old approached the 2008 North West 200 with renewed vigour. All three Dunlops raced that weekend and McGuinness remembers being surprised that Robert went out on a 250cc, as it was a heavier bike than he was used to. On the grid, William and Michael noticed white smoke coming from his exhaust, but Robert shot off and aerial coverage showed him zipping along in total control. Suddenly, however, as he passed two riders, his engine seized and he was thrown off the bike at 150mph when the back wheel locked.

Michael knelt beside him, held his hand and prayed he would be okay as the doctors arrived. But Robert died before Louise could reach the hospital and May realised she had lost a second son when she saw Michael throwing a water bottle in despair. Beckett went to pay his respects and was surprised to notice that Robert, who had barely scraped his knuckles, had a slight smirk on his face. But he had suffered horrendous internal injuries and Beckett confides that a part of him died that day, too.

While Robert's body was taken to the family home, the event organisers announced that racing would continue. William spent the night working on his bike and Beckett tried to talk him out of racing on the Saturday before his father's funeral. But, on 17 May 2008, both brothers arrived in the pits and insisted they were fit to race. The committee voted three to two against William being ready and he put organiser Mervyn Whyte in an impossible position by lining up on the grid. However, this was as far as his tribute to his father would go, as his bike developed a fault and he was forced to withdraw.

Still sombre after commemorating Robert in a heartfelt silence, the crowd realised that Michael was still set to race and Whyte called Beckett in the hope that he could talk some sense into him. But the flag had fallen by the time he arrived and McGuinness knew from the off that the 19 year-old was going to put everything on the line to secure a victory for his dad. He pushed him close, but Michael took the laurels to the rapturous applause of the fans. Davison declared it an astonishing win, but Michael knew he couldn't celebrate it, as he had to be a mourner the following day. Beckett told him his father would have been very proud and he stood alongside the boys as the coffin followed the same route that Joey's had taken, as the brothers were buried side by side.

Neeson opines that the euphoria of Michael's victory could only have temporarily dulled the pain of loss, but his action was very much that of a Dunlop. May is less eulogistic, however, as she reveals that she felt she had nothing to live for after her two boys had died. She now worries every time William and Michael race. But, as Lavery and Hewitt cut for the final time to a PoV saddle shot accompanied by pounding music, William admits that he has no intention of quitting, as he proud of belonging to something so revered and so unique. 

A growing number of documentaries is reaching the big screen to cater for the petrolhead market. The vast majority of them deal with tragedy with an insight and sensitivity that suggests they have been made by fans for fans and this deeply moving memoir is no exception. Admittedly, the co-directors overdo the `you are there' sequences and occasionally allow Mark Gordon and Richard Hill's throbbing score to drown out the propulsive engine sounds. But these images are there as much to emphasise the hazards of road racing as to provide cheap visceral thrills. Similarly, Andrew Tohill's editing is designed to reinforce the necessity of precision in practice and race conditions. But it's the respectful melancholy of Liam Neeson's narration and the quiet dignity of the Dunlops themselves that root this so unflinchingly in its milieu and make it so compelling.