Parky at the Pictures (In Cinemas 26/6/2014)

But Look At Me (2004) and Let It Rain (2008) drew merely polite plaudits and there was great interest in France when  Jaoui and Bacri reunited on Under the Rainbow, as it was their first collaboration since the end of their 25-year romance in 2012. Once again, the reviews have been positive rather than enthusiastic. Yet few film-makers have demonstrated such consistency of wit and insight over the last two decades and Jaoui and Bacri should be lauded for producing pictures that playfully dissect domestic mores, while also providing sly commentaries on the state of the nation and the disconnect between idealised existence and bittersweet reality.

Despite being in her mid-twenties, Agathe Bonitzer still dreams of finding her Prince Charming. She is scarcely surprised, therefore, when the statue of an angel points out handsome classical composer Arthur Dupont at a party and she is more convinced than ever that she has landed in the middle of a fairytale when he leaves behind a shoe after falling down a flight of stairs while fleeing at midnight. Although she has no way of contacting Dupont, Bonitzer convinces herself that fate will bring them together again. But she is unaware that her aunt, Agnès Jaoui, has just started taking driving lessons with his father, Jean-Pierre Bacri.

Bacri has left Dupont's mother, Dominique Valadié, in order to move in with Valérie Crouzet and her two daughters from a previous relationship. Yet, while he protests that he is happy with his lot, Bacri scowls throughout his sessions with Jaoui and concludes that life is both unfair and all too short, as fortune-teller Colette Kraffe has predicted that he is going to die on 14 March. Jaoui has problems of her own, however, as her acting career has stalled so badly that she is forced to direct a children's fairytale production. Moreover, she is angry with ex-husband Laurent Poitrenaux for allowing young daughter Serena Legeais to become obsessed with the Bible.

Meanwhile, Bonitzer and Dupont meet again and embark upon a whirlwind romance that sees Paris become their playground. With his floppy hair and eager manner, Dupont could be easily mistaken for dashing. But he is also somewhat intense and more than a little clumsy. He also stutters when he is nervous and Bonitzer's misgivings resurface when she ventures into the sticks to ask her aunt for advice and is offered a lift in his sports car by the wolfish Benjamin Biolay.

Jaoui wishes Bonitzer well, but cautions against becoming blinded by love, as it has a nasty habit of biting back. Naturally, her words prove prophetic and Bonitzer develops a crush on Biolay, who has befriended the impressionable Dupont, in spite of the fact that cellist Nina Meurisse and violinist Clément Roussier have urged him not to trust Biolay with a ten-foot double-bass bow. Dupont is keen to marry, but Bonitzer wonders whether she would have a more exciting life with the dangerous Biolay. Moreover, she has rather been put off matrimony by the fact that father Didier Sandre abandoned her mother to take up with Béatrice Rosen, who constantly undergoes painful plastic surgery in the hope of remaining the fairest of them all. Yet, while the sixtysomething still looks no older than 30, her face is totally immobile and Sandre pays her little attention, as he devotes most of his time to running a company that appears to be making huge profits while polluting the water supply

When Sandre is presented with the Legion of Honour for his services to industry, Jaoui advises Bonitzer on the pros and cons of commitment. But, as in all good fables, she has to learn some harsher truths before she can finally reach her happy ever after.

Jaoui and Bacri have often been accused of overloading their scenarios with subplots and it does take a while to work out the clan dynamics in this droll dramedy. But the connection between the characters and classic folk tales is more readily evident and they are splendidly reinforced by François Emmanuelli's production design and Nathelie Raoul's costumes. Lubomir Bakchev's cinematography also turns Paris into a wonderland, while the tableaux he composes for the different chapter headings feel like painterly pages from an illuminated manuscript. Even Fernando Fisbein's impudent score manages to combine dreamy passages that would not have been out of place in a Disney cartoon with harder edged snatches of modern urban noyze.

The performances are also admirable, with Rosen's wicked stepmother being particularly amusing. Bonitzer is perhaps a touch bland as the princess, while Dupont's Cinderfella never comes close to rivalling the big bad Biolay's lupine charisma. But Bacri and Jaoui excel, most notably during his grumpy tirades and her efforts to cheer him up while negotiating the traffic. However, the rehearsal sequence in which she tries to persuade the girls in her cast that kissing boys is no worse than kissing frogs is also charming and provides a neat link between the juvenile reluctance to believe in myth and Bonitzer's conviction that she is somehow living out an enchanted tale.

The need to believe is also touched upon in Legeais's naive fixation with scripture, which just happens to coincide with a mysterious itch. But the most disconcerting ideas surround Bacri's fear of Kraffe's prognostication, as it makes one ponder how human beings manage to keep living from day to day while cognisant of the awful reality that they are inevitably going to die.

By contrast, the reckless fearlessness of youth comes under scrutiny in Diego Quemada-Díez's The Golden Dream, a companion piece to Cary Fukunaga's Sin Nombre (2009) that follows a trio of Guatemalan teenagers on a perilous journey through Central American to a longed-for new life in the United States. Shot on Super-16 and featuring a cast of non-professionals, this is very much a latterday exercise in neo-realism. However, as in so many Italian films of the classic era, an element of sentimentality is permitted to permeate the naturalism. Moreover, Quemada-Díez allows the action to meander slightly before it reaches its devastating denouement.

Sixteen year-old Brandon López lives in a rundown shanty in Guatemala City. As he heads back to the family shack, he passes through narrow streets with the sounds of poverty and crime hanging in the air. Hurrying into his room, he packs a bag and sews some dollars into the waistband of his trousers and leaves before anybody knows he has gone. He hooks up with buddy Carlos Chajón, who has been surviving by scavenging on a nearby rubbish dump, and gal pal Karen Martínez, who has cut her hair and bandaged her breasts to make her look more like a boy.

As if to celebrate their expedition to El Norte, the friends part with some precious cash to pose for photographs in a backstreet booth. Chajón stands proudly with the Guatemalan flag, while Martínez selects the Stars and Stripes. But López, who takes great pride in his cowboy boots, climbs on to a model horse and dons a ten-gallon hat and wields a toy six-shooter against an idealised Wild West backdrop that sums up the romanticised notions that the threesome harbour as they leave the penurious security of their family homes.

On arriving in the town of Chiapas, Martínez's disguise is easily seen through by Rodolfo Domínguez, a Tzotzil Indian who speaks no Spanish, but makes it clear to Martínez that he wishes to join her party. As he has feelings for Martínez, López takes a dim view of Domínguez, as they ride on the roof of a slow-moving train, along with hundreds of other migrants taking their lives into their own hands on the off-chance of finding gainful employment in America. But she insists that he is harmless and that it is better to travel in numbers. However, as they approach the Mexican border, the timid Chajón decides to back out and the trio press on without him.

They quickly fall foul of the police (La Migra) and are forced to work on a plantation in order to make enough money to make a second attempt at crossing the border. A dance thrown by the peasants provides a welcome break from the hard physical labour and the stress of being so far from home. But López becomes increasingly resentful of Domínguez after he dances with Martínez and she tries to teach him a few useful words and phrases.

Having successfully made it into Mexico, the youths take advantage of the charity of the strangers lining the railway track, who they throw fruit to sustain the travellers on their arduous journey. However, it's not long before disaster befalls them, as bandits stop the train and round-up the stragglers and expose Martínez as a girl. She is bundled screaming into a lorry destined for a brothel and López and Domínguez discover how hopeless any attempt to rescue her would be while spending the night in a religious shelter. Aware that they now have to rely on each other if they are to attain their goal, the pair befriend streetwise teen Ricardo Esquerra while riding their next boxcar and he promises to help them make some quick cash.

They soon realise, however, that Esquerra has lured them into the den of the machete-brandishing Luis Alberti, who has lots of other waifs trapped in a cramped room on the outskirts of a nowhere town. He admires López's spirit when he tries to protect Domínguez and allows him to leave. But López has learned that selfishness gets you nowhere on the road and he goes back to the compound to plead for his friend's release and they make the most of their second chance to keep their heads down until they reach the frontier. However, their first steps on American soil come at a hideous price.

Sticking close to the characters by often keeping the camera at their eye level, while also reinforcing their insignificance against the vast wilderness, cinematographer María Secco brings a certain intimacy to proceedings that have an undeniably familiar feel. The script, written in conjunction with Gibrán Portela and Lucía Carreras, draws on over 600 first-hand testimonies, but it tends to treat the kids as pieces being moved across a map rather than fully realised human beings. Moreover, like mentor Ken Loach (for whom he served as clapper-loader on Land and Freedom in 1995), the Spanish-born, Mexico-based director too frequently wears his political heart on his sleeve.

Denied access to the full script so that they were always acting in the moment, the young leads respond commendably to Quemada-Díez's direction and there are fleeting moments of gentle humour to offset more poignant episodes, like Martínez's abduction and López's showdown with Alberti. But, for all the harrowing detail and the mournful finesse of Jacobo Lieberman and Leo Heiblum's score, this is every bit as melodramatic as Sin Nombre, although nothing can prepare one for the climactic tragedy.

A fugitive proves crucial to the action in Peter Fudakowski's Secret Sharer, an adaptation of a 1909 Joseph Conrad short story that marks the directorial debut of the British producer of Gavin Hood's 2005 Oscar winner, Tsotsi. Conrad has proved a notoriously difficult author to translate to the screen, with Alfred Hitchcock (Sabotage, 1936), Carol Reed (Outcast of the Islands, 1951), Richard Brooks (Lord Jim, 1965), Ridley Scott (The Duellists, 1977), Francis Ford Coppola (Apocalypse Now, 1979), Patrice Chereau (Gabrielle, 2005) and Chantal Akerman (Almayer's Folly, 2011) among the big names to have enjoyed mixed fortunes in attempting to solve the stylistic and thematic problems posed by the onetime Polish sailor's prose. Orson Welles decided against making his screen bow with `Heart of Darkness' and Oxford cineastes will have the opportunity to ask Fudakowski why he took up such a daunting challenge when he introduces the 6.15pm screening at The Phoenix on 2 July.

Polish mariner Jack Laskey has been sent to the Gulf of Thailand by boss Song Bin Zhu to take his first command and discover the whereabouts of the cargo vessel's vanished captain and the contents of its safe. Laskey boards the rusty tub in pristine white uniform and receives a frosty welcome from the Sino-Thai crew, who suspect that orders to reach dry dock in Shanghai in 10 days signal the end of their secure employment. Second mate Bao Yin Ni Mu Hu tries to reason with Laskey, but he is reprimanded for bringing girlfriend Ying Wang onboard and he gets his own back by giving the order to depart before dawn the next morning.

Laskey sleeps badly and is made to feel like an outsider by the crew when they catch a fish and Wang helps cook Guo Zhongyou and assistant Sittinont Ananvorakhun rustle up a delicious supper. He feels even more isolated when the hands go ashore at Hainan and he has to cope alone with hauling Zhu Zhu on deck when he spots her clinging to a rope ladder over the side of the ship. She is naked and pleads with him to hide her before passing out. The following morning, Captain Leon Dai approaches on a launch to ask Laskey if he has seen his wife, as she is wanted for the murder of his first mate. He allows Dai to search the cabins, but suggests Zhu must have drowned trying to reach the shore and the party sail away just as the crew return.

Zhu is grateful to Laskey for sheltering her, but she attacks him in his cabin as a storm blows up and he warns her that he will not be able to protect her from the crew unless she acts with discretion. She promises to stay in the cabin and has to lay low when steward Aroon Wanasbodeewong comes snooping while his suspicious crew mates detain Laskey when he goes to the galley to fetch her some food. Zhu dislikes being dependent and demands that Laskey lets her go. But, in confiding that he wishes he had never accepted the posting, he assures her she will not survive unless she trusts him annd he asks her what happened on Dai's ship. She explains that she is an expert navigator and was angry with Dai for ignoring her warnings of an imminent storm and for failing to help her clear the deck of cargo when it threatened to capsize the ship. The dead man was the son of a high-ranking official and Dai is more interested in saving his skin than seeing justice done.

Wanasbodeewong tries to sneak into Laskey's cabin again next morning. But Zhu manages to hide and only comes out when the skipper goes about his duties. She listens to Cuban music on his ipod and looks through his photographs, as he upsets Guo and Ananvorakhun by insisting that they tidy up their herb garden, as he is running a working ship not a pleasure cruiser. However, they are pleased that he eats enough for two and Laskey uses mealtimes to find out more about Zhu's past. But, in spending so much time with her, he further alienates himself from the crew, who are concerned that he seems to be steering towards a typhoon. Yet engineer Si Qin Chao Ke Tu urges Bao to cut Laskey some slack, as he is in an invidious position.

Laskey notices that Ching-ting Hsia seems very keen to get inside his cabin and opens the safe to discover a large sum of money hidden inside. He keeps this from Zhu, who deftly deflects his clumsy attempt to seduce her and mocks him for being a boy. However, she advises him to celebrate the Moon festival with the crew and tells him to stop wearing his uniform, as it sets him apart. As they get drunk, Laskey discovers that Hsia is the missing captain and he allows him to accept a message from a passing craft, which Laskey reads with a grim expression.

As he sleeps off his hangover, Zhu reads the letter from Song, ordering him to scuttle the ship for the insurance money. He says he is powerless to refuse, but he has started to feel a kindred spirit with the men and when Wanasbodeewong tells him that Hsia has locked himself in his cabin, Laskey breaks down the door and throws all of his alcohol overboard. But, when he tells Zhu that he would be willing to risk everything to help her reach a safe country, she pulls away from his attempt to kiss her after she brushes his forehead with her lips.

Meanwhile, Bao has asked Si Qin to disable the engines to prevent Laskey from sinking the ship. But the rest of the crew is unwilling to mutiny and Wanasbodeewong helps Laskey sober up Hsia so he can resume his place on the bridge. They argue about who is in command, but Laskey's biggest rival is Bao, who attacks him with a knife. They fight on the deck and fall into the hold, where Bao is overpowered and locked up. Si Qin urges Laskey to apologise to Bao for causing him to lose face. But he refuses and his decisiveness earns him the respect of the crew, who coax Si Qin into restarting the engines off the coast of Hong Kong.

As he returns to his cabin, Laskey hears a commotion about somebody jumping overboard and he fears that Zhu has struck out for land. He dreams of rescuing her from the water, but Hsia reveals that it is Bao who has gone and suggests that few will mourn him. Laskey returns to his cabin and Zhu tends to his wounded shoulder and tells him that she likes the fact he loves her because it is such a selfless action in a world in which everyone wants to be loved. He plays a Polish song on his accordion and she dances around the cabin.

Hsia and Wanasbodeewong smile as they listen outside the door. As they sneak away, Zhu reveals she has not danced since she married Dai and Laskey admits he hasn't played since he left home. They kiss and he recalls his father telling him that a man without principles becomes a slave to another man's limits. Realising that the time has come to take charge, he orders the crew to paint the ship red and white. Zhu tells him about an area of treacherous rocks and urges him to follow her course and, thus, slip through Chinese territorial waters without having to scuttle the ship. Laskey explains the route to the crew and Hsia has his doubts, but the crew agree to take the risk.

Zhu asks Laskey to cut her hair, so she looks less like a woman, and he dresses her in his best uniform and gives her his mobile phone so he can call and check she is okay. She kisses him and ignores his order not to look back as she leaves the ship. Hsia sees her go, but thinks he must be seeing things and concentrates on the instructions he receives, as lights are shone on the surface of the water and everyone scouts for rocks as they pick their way through the bed in the dead of night. Suitably impressed by his seamanship, Hsia calls Laskey `captain' on responding to an order.

The screen fades up from black as the ship reaches Shanghai safely. Song is furious with Laskey for disobeying his orders and for using the money in the safe to pay for the craft's refurbishment. The crew burst into the office and insist that the vessel is sound and as good as it was when Song was one of them. As Hsia nods his approval, Laskey takes his leave and the scene shifts to Xiamen in China, where Zhu has found a job in a vast factory. As she works, she notices her locket coming towards her along the conveyor belt. She hurries outside and removes the blue cap that goes with her yellow uniform and smiles. A final cut shows the sun glinting on tranquil water.

There have been a few films set aboard ships recently, with Tobias Lindholm's A Hijacking (2012) and Paul Greengrass's Captain Phillips (2013) being about hijackings and Árni Ásgeirsson's Undercurrent (2010) and Frédérick Pelletier's Diego Star (2013) respectively being about a woman crew member being resented by the old lags on an Icelandic trawler and an Ivorian sailor trying to regain access to an impounded cargo ship when breaks down on the St Lawrence River. In all four cases, the directors made exceptional use of the floating location and Fudakowski more than matches them with the aid of production designer Pongnarin Jonghawklang and cinematographer Michal Tywoniuk.

However, in reworking Conrad's story to introduce a little romantic tension, Fudakowski allows the suspense to slacken and there is rarely a palpable sense that Laskey and Zuh are in serious danger of being discovered. Nor is it made entirely clear what would happen to Zuh if she was captured by the crew. Similarly, while the resentments are ably conveyed when Laskey first comes aboard, the tension is also allowed to slacken once the cooks decide Laskey is a decent man and, as a result, Bao's rebellion seems to come out of nowhere. Even the tricky negotiation of the hazardous reef is short on excitement, as the special effects are not particularly convincing.

Nevertheless, Laskey produces a creditable display, as does Zuh. The supporting performances are also strong and more emphasis might have been placed on the newcomer's bid to impose his authority before he becomes distracted. However, the change of the stowaway's gender doesn't foster the desired magnetism and the attempts to create sensual sparks through the use of slow-motion during the haircutting sequence merely seem gratuitous. Much more successful is the discussion of masculinity, maritime justice and the notion of duty in a ruthlessly commercial world. Moreover, Fudakowski also raises some interesting points about cross-cultural co-operation in the age of globalisation. So, while this may not rank among the best Conrad adaptations, it certainly stands alongside Terence Young's The Rover (1967), Mark Peploe's Victory, Christopher Hampton's The Secret Agent (both 1996) and Beeban Kidron's Swept From the Sea (1997).

A fine central performance and plentiful peripheral pleasures are submerged by a mounting heap of implausibilities in Steve Reeves's Keeping Rosy, a claustrophobic thriller that feels like a short that has been allowed to sprawl. Maxine Peake recently impressed in Michael Pearce's mini-saga, Keeping Up With the Joneses, which formed part of the BAFTA Shorts programme that went on general release earlier in the year. But, while she tempers a performance of seething intensity with moments of touching vulnerability, Peake cannot prevent this Docklands melodrama from becoming ever more clichéd and overwrought.

Following an office rant brought on by having to talk babies with colleague Tori Hart, who also happens to be the wife of lover Sam Hoare, Maxine Peake is sacked over the phone as she takes the train back to her luxurious riverside apartment. Arriving home in a foul mood, she fires cleaner Elisa Lasowski for smoking on the job and, as she leaves, hits her over the head with what she presumes is a stolen bottle of champagne. Helping Lasowski back inside, Peake gives her pills and tries to apologise. But Lasowski mocks her for being alone and unhappy before dropping down dead.

Peake throws up out of sheer terror in the bathroom and her despair at her predicament is exacerbated by the discovery of a birthday card in Lasowski's bag. Realising that her own life is on the line, she tears up the card in furious self-pity. But she regains her composure, rolls the corpse into a sleeping bag and hauls it along the corridor to the lift. She struggles across the underground car park and loads the body in the boot of her car before driving to a bridge, where she summons the strength to push Lasowski on to the sand below. Pulling the sleeping bag to the water's edge, Peake is relieved to see it float away and carelessly tosses a discarded trainer into the night sky, as she slumps back in her car.

Returning home to shower, Peake lights up to calm her nerves and notices the champagne bottle on the table. She also finds Lasowski's keys and realises she will have to dispose of her car before she can sleep. Tracking down the vehicle with the lock remote, Peake is appalled to discover a baby (played by both Brooke Skylar and Delta Storm Baptist) waking up on the back seat. Once again stricken by the enormity of her crime, she drives to a rough part of the city and abandons the car. However, she cannot bring herself to leave Baptist behind and takes her home to decide what to do next.

Forced to lock the crying child in the shower to stop her from crawling around her immaculate apartment, Peake quietens her with the rice picked from some sushi she finds in the fridge. They fall asleep on the bed, only to be awoken several hours later by the doorbell. Peake leaves Baptist in the bedroom and reluctantly allows Hoare to apologise for getting the partnership she had been promised at work. She coldly informs him that their affair is over and threatens to tell Hart unless he leaves. 

The next morning, Peake pops to the shop to buy baby supplies and gets a nasty shock when she discovers her ingenious little guest has managed to open the glass door of the shower, where she had been left for safe keeping. On finding her in the wardrobe, Peake kisses Baptist with relief and bursts into tears. Moreover, when she bumps into incoming neighbour Ann Penfold on the balcony, she introduces Baptist as her daughter. However, she realises she cannot keep up the charade for long and calls her boss to demand a generous redundancy package and begins scouring the internet for suitable houses in her native North West.

Peake starts to enjoy the feeling of having someone depend upon her. But, when Baptist develops a fever in the night and the NHS helpline refuses to give advice without a phone number, Peake appeals to younger sister Christine Bottomley for help. She arrives with young daughter Sienna Spiro and guardedly accepts Peake's story that her cleaner had begged her to keep the child away from social services before she died of cancer. However, Bottomley sends her sibling into a panic when she mentions the fun she's had watching the images on the CCTV system and Peake rushes off to locate the premises of the company monitoring the adjoining building site. 

As the office is empty, she tries to find the incriminating tape herself. But security guard Blake Harrison returns and Peake has to invent a story about vandals plaguing a neighbouring block before beating her retreat. Driving home, she hears that Lasowski's body has been found and that the police are linking her death to white slavery. Biding her time, Peake waits until dark and returns to set light to the hut to destroy the evidence. But she gets home to find Bottomley entertaining Harrison, who claims to have news about her delinquents. He dandles Baptist on his knee and comments with menacing charm upon her similarity to her beautiful mother.

Hurriedly packing a bag, Peake decides to see what Harrison knows as they sit down to chips and champagne. He tells her he was in the army in Basra and has a photographic memory for cars and where they have been parked. His ears prick up when Bottomley mentions that Peake has just received a bumper pay-off from work and he delights in showing her the memory stick on which he has stored the footage of her pests. Peake tells Bottomley to get rid of Harrison. But she is taken with him and chastises Peake for always trying to ruin her fun. She also upbraids her for missing their father's funeral. Harrison gloats as he dances with Bottomley and opens another bottle of champagne. He teases Peake about her temper getting her into trouble when she bellows at her sister for smoking and shoots her a glare as she peers through the door as he seduces Bottomley on the sofa.

The next morning, Harrison assures Peake that he only wants to help her, but will need £30,000 to forget what he has seen. She tells him it will take a while to collect such a sum and he jokes that he is a patient man. He takes a photo of Baptist on his phone and tells Peake that he also wants her car. However, he allows her to keep hold of it until she has paid up and orders her to drive him to a cashpoint for some spending money. Peake demands the memory stick, as Harrison scoffs a burger and laughs that he would never have checked the tapes if she hadn't piqued his curiosity with her lie.

Harrison drives back to the site to do his shift and is furious with Peake for torching the hut. Sliding into the driver's seat, she skids away and calls him a loser through the window. Arriving back at the apartment, she orders Bottomley to pack. But she doesn't have time to explain what is going on before Harrison kicks open the door and insists that Peake hands over the memory stick. She sees Baptist looking trustingly at her, as Harrison raves that he could sell the baby for £50,000. Peake leads him on the balcony so they can speak in private. However, she sacrifices herself for Baptist's good by pulling him over the edge and, when the police come to investigate, Spiro tells WPC Joanna Neary that Baptist is her baby sister. 

Shrewdly designed by Alex Marden to allow cinematographer Roger Pratt to contrast the vistas across the Thames with the walls closing in on Peake, this is a problematic picture that succumbs inevitably to its ever-more unfeasible convolutions. The premise devised by Reeves and co-scenarist Mike Oughton is bold and promising. But they quickly run out of inspiration as they confront Peake with insurmountable dilemmas that cunningly avoid her being linked to Lasowski, who conveniently seems to have no friends or relations who knew where she did her non-agency cleaning. But such legerdemain is more excusable than the clumsiness of the characterisation, which does few favours to the willing, but underwhelming Bottomley and Harrison, as only the protagonist comes close to being fully fleshed out.

Yet, even she remains pretty much a cipher, as Reeves concentrates on slotting plot pieces into place to the booming accompaniment of Stephen Warbeck's doom-laden score, which leaves little room for subtlety or suspense. As in Steph Green's recently released Run & Jump, Peake holds things together admirably. But she will need better material than this if her film work is to match her outstanding TV achievements.

Syrian film-maker Talal Derki took his life into his own hands to make Return to Homs, which was filmed over two years from August 2011, during which time some 15,000 people lost their lives and two-thirds of the besieged city was destroyed. Although the first riots against the rule of President Bashar al-Assad took place in the southern governorate of Daraa in March 2011, the western city of Homs became the focus of the fiercest opposition and Derki follows 24 year-old media activist Ossama al-Homsi (whose face is pixillated throughout) and 19 year-old Abdul Baset al-Sarout (who was once considered the second-best young goalkeeper in Asia while at Al-Karama FC), as they are radicalised and energised by the horrors they see around them as civilian targets are pounded by government shells. What ensues is utterly dismaying, as the rebels are reduced to fighting a rearguard from the sewers and cellars, as the outside world looks on aghast and does nothing.

Initially just one of many seeking to protect the neighbourhoods of Bayada and Khalidiya, Sarout quickly becomes an iconic figure, as he takes to the podium to lead protest rallies in declaiming slogans that are chanted with all the fervour of terrace anthems. He takes Derki to the family home that was decimated in the raid that led to the death of his brother, Walid. Sarout concedes that he is losing faith in peaceful resistance, as the enemy doesn't fear the judgement of Allah.

As Cairo Street is closed off by Syrian tanks, Bayada and Khalidiya are cut off from each other and Derki arrives back in Homs in January 2012 in time to film a young boy lying in a pile of blood in the house he was presumably trying to defend. Grown men weep at his sacrifice and there is a new anger in Sarout's rhetoric when he addresses demonstrations. Homsi dejectedly attends the funeral of a wounded man the doctors couldn't save, but his morale slumps further in February following the Khalidiya massacre that reportedly claimed 138 lives. He looks across the rows of covered stretchers, as Derki notes that this incident sparked a mass exodus that left only the poor and the elderly in homes that increasingly lacked even the basic amenities. Moreover, army deserters were beginning to assemble in the neighbourhoods and they brought with them the weaponry that turned an onslaught into a siege.

A resistance fighter shows Derki how they make their way around the city through bombed-out buildings, as snipers have all the open areas covered. Returning after two months in hiding after the fall of Bayada, Sarout demonstrates how walls are used to provide cover during gun battles and nearly mistakes an old lady in the street below for a Syrian soldier. He seems weary, but vows to fight on. However, the inexperience of the rearguard leaders means that they fail to protect their supply lines and the situation has deteriorated significantly by the time Homsi is hit in the chest with shrapnel and loses some fingers on his right hand. Nevertheless, he tries to give the V sign to the camera and he is soon back on the frontline photographing shattered streets and dead dogs in a bid to advertise the extent of the crisis. Yet, when the United Nations finally gets round to acting, it merely sends six observers who stay for 30 minutes before beating a hasty retreat.

Ossama returns to his home and is pleased to find his coffee mug has survived the assault. He admits to feeling like an immigrant in a strange place and laments the fact that conversations among his friends are now invariably about artillery and martyrdom. Sarout remains bullish, however, even after he is shot in the foot during a failed attempt to recapture Bayada. He and Homsi attend the funerals of those who fell at the Khalid ibn al-Walid Mosque and pray at the tomb of the fabled commander who was a companion of Muhammad at Medina. Sarout hobbles around on crutches, but he still leads the singing from the back of a truck, as the rebels chant their defiance.

In June, Ossama is snatched by the authorities and Derki speculates about his fate without quite knowing whether he is alive or dead. He curses the fact that his images have failed to have the desired effect in shocking the outside world and vows to keep filming in order to honour his mission. His focus now falls entirely on Sarout and Derki captures the moment he gets shot at while digging graves for his comrades in arms. As he sits on a rocket launcher, Sarout feels alone and questions whether he still has the stomach for the fight.

But, after several months of silence, news comes that the Free Syrian Army is planning to liberate Bayada and Derki eavesdrops on Sarout discussing strategy and rallying the troops with more patriotic songs. He calls on the people to join with the glorious 200 freedom fighters, but they are too exhausted to rise up and the survivors find themselves trapped in the besieged enclave. They eventually manage to escape after 13 days of backbreaking tunnelling, only to find themselves with their backs to a new wall. Sarout looks out across the city from the upper floor of a smashed building and struggles to recognise a street he actually knows well. He despairs that the corpses of unburied martyrs litter the battlefield, but swears to ensure that their heroism will have meaning.

Sarout hatches a scheme to tunnel back into Bayada and goes to visit his parents and siblings before the raid. He lies on a carpet in the sunshine and sheep wander through an idyllic scene that seems a million miles from the rubble and carnage back in Homs. But the campaign is never far from Sarout's mind and he sings a song about martyrdom as he lies on the sofa in the family home. He returns to Homs and Derki reveals that he lacked the numbers to make a concerted move and berates those whose timidity resulted in Sarout being so badly wounded in the leg that the doctors were unable to repair some of his severed tendons. As he recovers, Sarout cries for lost friends and gives thanks for being spared so that he can ensure they did not die in vain. Yet, as Derki looks on, Sarout's optimism collapses and he shouts out in anguish that he has failed to deliver his people and missed his opportunity to become an immortal martyr.

As snow starts to fall on his country hideout, Sarout is back on his feet. Cameraman Kahtan Hassoun records him wishing he was dead, as he avers that he would rather go back to being a blacksmith than become a football coach. But he refuses to give up on Bayada and the film concludes with Sarout riding towards Homs on the back of a truck and Derki proclaiming him a hero with a halo. A closing caption reveals that Sarout lost his uncle and brother in an action on 7 July 2013, in which he sustained more injuries. But he continues to sing and fight for his cause.

This is hardly an objective account, as Derki is clearly on the side of his subjects. Indeed, he almost sets out to iconify Sarout, as he makes speeches, sings songs and places himself in danger in order to inspire others to stand beside him in his bid for honourable martyrdom. Hosmi records his pronouncements with equal fidelity, with the consequence that the documentary increasingly risks becoming a hagiographic profile rather than a detached account of the destruction of a once-proud metropolis. Yet, there is something unquestionably moving and inspirational about Sarout and his refusal to be beaten.

Thanks to the acuity of editor Anne Fabini's cutting, the jerky imagery (which had to be smuggled out of Syria) has a visceral immediacy. But those not au fait with the conflict or the part in it played by Homs may feel out of their depth without some contextualising backstory. Nevertheless, there is something shocking about the scenes of devastation witnessed by the crew in a hollow wasteland that once teemed with life and is now home only to the handful of civilians who are too stubborn, frail or poor to leave and the revolutionaries who keep taking pot shots at their adversaries through holes in walls while convincing each other that is only a matter of time before their resistance wears down an evil enemy.

Although its tone could not be more different, Mistaken For Strangers is also about a charismatic singer and the misfortunes that befall the person attempting to capture his appeal to the masses. In this case, however, the subject is Matt Berninger, the lead vocalist of the American indie band The National, who invites his nine-year younger brother Tom to work as a roadie on their upcoming world tour in order to earn a few dollars and do something useful with a life that Matt fears is careering off the tracks. As he has produced a couple of homemade horror shorts, Tom is also allowed to record the tour for a documentary. But the strain of being a rock star's sibling begins to take its toll in what seems less a fly-on-the-wall actuality than a semi-spoof in which everyone is in on the joke.

The National hail from Cincinnati, Ohio and have released six albums since 2001. However, Tom Berninger shows surprisingly little interest in the origins or evolution of brother Matt's band and leaves it to a clip from a TV chat show to reveal that the line-up is completed by two sets of brothers: Aaron (guitar and keyboard) and Bryce Dessner (guitar), and Scott (bass) and Bryan Devendorf (drums). Indeed, when Matt sits Tom down for a Q&A session in Brooklyn's Prospect Park, his questions are hootingly off-kilter and prompt Matt to question the wisdom of allowing Tom to film the year-long world tour.

Back in his bedroom, Tom plays scenes from his shoestring shorts, From the Dirt Under His Nails and Wages of Sin, to demonstrate his film-making prowess. But viewers should take note of the fact that each film centres on a rampaging maniac and it seems clear from the sequence in which Tom boasts about touring with The National to staff and customers at his local record shop that he is very likely to turn into a loose cannon or worse sooner rather than later.

Landing in Paris, Tom turns the camera on himself scarfing room service rather than on Matt doing a phone interview. He then tries to discover which of the Dessners can play guitar faster. However, tour manager-cum-sound engineer Brandon Reid wants to run Tom through his duties, which essentially involve keeping the combo stocked with towels, snacks and booze and making sure that they arrive on stage on time. But Tom gets off to a bad start when he tries to ask follow-up questions as Brandon is supervising a sound check and he drifts backstage with a mix of confusion and unconcern to joke about whether he could replace Matt in The National as Johnny Van Zant did his brother Ronnie in Lynyrd Skynyrd when he perished in a plane crash.

As the concert begins with `Bloodbuzz Ohio', Tom watches from the wings. He also catches a snippet of `Mr November'. But, for an official videographer, he doesn't seem that interested in the music and freely admits he is more of a metalhead. Matt chides him for getting in the way and filming when he should be doing his job, but Tom delights in being the naughty younger brother and enjoys the immunity that this affords him within the touring party.

On arriving in London, Tom fools around in phone boxes and points out a double-decker bus. He records Matt meeting some fans and persuades him to do an interview in his room, in which Matt insists the he doesn't think of himself as famous. Tom makes him smile by pointing out that he is better known than any of his friends and Scott is equally amused when Tom asks him where he sees The National in 50 years' time and whether he takes his ID card on stage with him. The following day, they drive to the coast for a photo shoot, where Tom kvetches about the difficulty of coping with the band's sweet tooth and snipes that Matt pretends to hate posing for the camera when he really loves being the centre of attention.

Having mooched around filming musicians Ben Lanz (trombone), Kyle Resnick (trumpet) and Padma Newsome (violin), Tom records the performance of `Afraid of Everyone' and comes backstage to ask sister-in-law Carin Besser why Matt is being so mean to him. She tries to explain that he has a job to do and fans to please and needs to go into a zone in order to give his best. But her answer sounds scripted and poses questions about the extent to which this is a parody of Robert Flaherty's patented brand of scripted reality rather than a genuine piece of vérité.

Tom is still feeling marginalised when they reach Berlin and is hurt when Matt rejects his idea for a boozy bonding session, because Tom has an allergy. He slinks away and tells Bryan that they are the only ones living the rock`n'roll dream and he admits that touring can seem a bit tame sometimes. The pair have a mini party and Tom winds up listening to Halford III: Winter Songs on his ipod before crashing out on the sofa. Brandon ticks him off for wasting funds on alcohol and Tom has to go hurtling through the corridors of a Warsaw theatre to find the towels and water bottles he was supposed to have ordered (a shot that has to be staged, as someone else is clearly holding the camera as Tom bolts into the distance).

He asks Matt if he's only on the tour because they are related and Tom proceeds to get cross with his sibling for backing Brandon's contention that he is shirking his responsibilities. Tom skulks off to find a quiet corner and confides to his camera that it feels weird not fitting in with people he has known for so long. At the show, he films Matt going wild on stage, but opts to use an acoustic accompaniment rather then a National tune over a sequence that ends with Tom getting a disappointed stare from his brother in the airport departure lounge.

Things seem more relaxed as Tom splashes in a hotel pool in Los Angeles. However, Matt scolds him when he calls out to Moby in his hillside mansion and he snatches a beer out of his hand before that night's show. Before he can protest, Tom is sent to find the missing guest list for the after party and the unforeseen problems continue when Scott's bass malfunctions during the gig. Unsurprisingly, Matt is tetchy backstage and pushes over a clothing rail when Tom ignores his polite requests and keeps shooting. Tom also breaks his promise by filming celebrities like Werner Herzog as they meet the band and manager Dawn Barger asks Tom if she can see a rough cut of his documentary because she is concerned about the way the group will be depicted.

After much grumbling about the questioning of his competence, Tom shows Dawn's assistant some clips from his slasher pictures and his horrified expression once more betrays the fact the scene has been staged scene. However, there seems nothing fake about the fact that Tom is prevented from filming as The National meet Barack Obama after playing a rally in Madison, Wisconsin. But Tom's protest to Matt and his promise that he can meet the president next time again feels pre-planned, as does the encounter with Scott, which begins with Tom conceding that Matt is a cool older brother (even though he doesn't understand him), continues with Scott trying to explain that becoming famous couldn't have been easy for Matt and culminates in the bassist lookng into the camera and asking why this interview isn't about him instead of the blasted Berninger brothers.

By this stage, however, Tom has pretty much lost interest in the band and can only focus on the state of his relationship with Matt. As they chat in Prospect Park, Matt tells Tom to pull himself together and lambastes him for spilling cereal over the bathroom floor and leaving his wet bathing suit lying around the tour bus. Tom wails that he is free falling and could do with a little support, but Matt merely warns him to start pulling the film together or ship out. Yet again, Tom seeks out a bandmate to bitch behind his brother's back and Bryce admits that Matt can be a bit of a bully, as he was during the recording of the overdubs on `Apartment Story' and Tom concurs when Bryce avers that Matt can get a little scary when he's angry. However, he wonders whether Tom and Matt are too set in their roles for the situation ever to change and footage from the post-concert reception seems to prove his point, as Matt berates Tom for filming actor Will Arnett when he had told him to keep a low profile.

Everything comes to a head en route to Brewster, New York when Tom misses the bus after Bryan and Scott leave him wassailing in a bar. He films from a distance as Matt and Brandon chat in a corridor and demands to know the real reason when his brother tells him he's been fired because things aren't working out. As The National perform `Vanderlyle Crybaby Geeks', Tom sits alone in a bar before slinking off into the night. He films the band members sleeping by torchlight on the bus and heads to the station to return to Cincinnati.

Once home, he asks mother Nancy how he differs from Matt and she accuses him of being a difficult boy and teases him about consistently quitting sports at school. She compares their childhood artwork and praises Matt's minimalism, while raising a scarcely enthusiastic `what's not to like?' about a comic-strip that Tom drew about a man obsessed with legs. Father Paul is more reassuring and praises Tom for never letting things get him down, while Matt always had a tendency to be moody. Moreover, Nancy surprises Tom by confiding that he is her most talented child and that she is confident that he will be a success.

Six months later, Matt and Carin invite Tom to Brooklyn to edit the film. He asks young niece Isla if she thinks he will become a famous director and date a hot movie star and she answers swiftly and firmly in the negative. Matt also has his doubts, as Tom tries to explain the logic behind the colour-coded post-its stuck to the garage wall. He offers to provide truthful feedback, but urges Tom not to waste the opportunity the band has given him. But Tom is still searching for an ending and visits the Clubhouse Studio during a recording session for the new National album. He asks Bryce about the songwriting process and he reckons that waiting for ideas to come is the hardest part. Scott similarly finds it peculiar that it can take up to two years to produce 45 minutes of music.

Carin asks Tom if he has found a girl yet, but he says he isn't ready for romance as he has the wrong clothes and doesn't have his own dishes. Eventually, he has a rough cut ready and Matt invites the entourage to a preview screening. He is nervous when the big night comes, but the digital projector breaks down and Matt gives Tom hell for not checking the equipment beforehand. Nevertheless, he encourages him not to let the setback deflate him and offers a few notes to improve the film.

As they sit in the garden, Tom admits to being depressed and soiling himself the night before as he cried so hard. Matt laughs and Tom wishes he could see Matt weep just once. He films himself alone wishing the band the best before cutting away from a shot of the post-it wall to footage from the Paris hotel, in which he asks Matt what it feels like playing in front of 50,000 people. Matt admits it's unnerving and recalls when their gigs were deserted. As Tom intercuts footage of the early days, Matt opines that failure helped them connect with their audience.

Back at his desk (against a wall covered in the red post-its he is using to indicate SNAFUs), Tom ruminates upon the mistakes he has made during the shoot. He confides that it sucks having a rock star brother when he's a nobody and realises that it will always be this way. However, he remembers a dream he used to have in which Matt rescued him from a lunatic wielding an axe and he takes comfort from the fact that it suggests Matt sees enough in him to make him worth saving.

Such affection is easy to see in a throwaway sequence in which they brothers get the giggles when Tom asks Matt to wipe the steam off the bathroom mirror and say, `I am not The National; The National belongs to everybody now.' But Matt also keeps tabs on Tom to make sure he's sticking to his task, as it breaks his heart that he gets so down on himself and fritters away the talent and opportunities he's been given. However, Tom looks as though he's having a ball, as he follows Matt through the audience holding a long microphone lead while his brother performs `Terrible Love', and one is left wondering how close to real life the bearded schlub who scuttles across the stage and back into the wings is to the real Tom Berninger.

No matter what the picture would have you believe, this is far too slick to have been thrown together by an incompetent novice. Berninger's camerawork invariably alights upon the telling image, while the sound quality is far above anything that could be achieved with a little handheld camera. The editing (credited to Berninger and Besser) is also too assured to support the notion that these are the ad hoc rambling of a buffoon in thrall to and jealous of his famous brother. Consequently, it's surely no accident that this feels closer to Rob Reiner's This Is Spinal Tap (1984) than DA Pennebaker's Don't Look Back (1967).

The various siblings and their support team play along sportingly and it's very much to Matt Berninger's credit that there are as many poignant moments as amusing ones. His willingness to play the brooding bully and allow Tom to appear the hard-luck case is admirable, although it would not be surprising if the odd home truth had slipped out during the shoot. Tom clearly has a gift for self-deprecation and myth-making (Wages of Sin is slated to form part of the DVD extras package, but From the Dirt Under His Nails seems a much elusive proposition). He also has splendid comic timing, although he might have tightened up the climactic Brooklyn sequences. But it will be interesting to see what he does next, as this is the kind of gimmicky project you can only get away with once.

The quirk quotient is equally high in Steve Barker's Rock and Roll's Greatest Failure: Otway the Movie, which chronicles the chequered career of the UK's ultimate cult icon, John Otway. Hailing from Aylesbury, the sixtysomething sprite is the master of deprecatory self-promotion and the fact that he has survived so long on the fringes of the ruthless music industry is a testament to his own ingenuity and the loyalty of fans who buy into Otway's stunts with as much fervour as they do his songs. Fittingly, there is a gleeful homemade feel about this consistently amusing documentary. But don't be fooled by the persona. Otway is made of stern stuff and behind the seemingly haphazard chaos lurks a canny amount of calculation

The opening section suggests that Otway has never forgotten his roots, as footage of a 1978 performance of `Beware of the Flowers ('Cos I'm Sure They're Gonna Get You, Yeah!)' in front of 20,000 people at an outdoor gig in Aylesbury town centre is followed by a 2012 clip of him giving a talk at his old school about surviving in showbiz. Given that his own mother had misgivings about Otway pursuing a musical career when he merely had a modicum of talent, it's quite an achievement that he is still going strong 42 years after the release of the 1972 single `Misty Mountain'. But Otway had to wait until 1977 for chart success (well, No.27) when his madcap performance of `Really Free' with Wild Willy Barrett on The Old Grey Whistle Test caused a sensation after he crushed his testicles while falling off an amplifier.

According to A&R man Dennis Munday, Polydor signed Otway for £250,000 around the time the label landed The Jam for £6000. But, even though it was produced by The Who's Pete Townshend, the debut album John Otway & Wild Willy Barrett (1977) failed to sell in significant numbers and future collaborations Deep & Meaningless (1978), Way & Bar (1980) and The Wimp & The Wild (1989) did as poorly as the solo outings, Where Did I Go Right? (1979) and All Balls & No Willy (1982). The period did produce one showstopper for the duo's legendary live gigs, however, as Barrett used to smash Otway's skull into the microphone during `Headbutts' with such force that he was often left bleeding.

But the cherished second hit remained elusive, with punk audiences being left particularly cold by `Geneve', a 1977 love song backed by a 100-piece orchestra. Undaunted, Otway released three pressings of `Frightened and Scared' (1979) without vocals so that he could come to the homes of the `golden single' holders to croon live in their living rooms. But the gimmick failed to spark. He had more luck with the plan to hold gigs near to record shops whose returns contributed towards the charts and offer free admission to those carrying a copy of `DK 50/80' (1980). But, as Otway and Barrett snuck in at No.45, the Musician' Union called a strike the week they were due to appear on Top of the Pops and their hopes of nationwide exposure evaporated.

Looking back with sporting amusement, Otway recognises the silver lining of his situation, as his run of flops allowed him to publish the 1990 autobiography, Cor Baby, That's Really Me. He also realised the strength of his fan base, as promoter Paul Clerehugh and guitarist Richard Holgarth teamed up to make an event of Otway's 2000th gig at The Astoria on 12 November 1993. Suitably buoyed and typically unwilling to keep both feet firmly on the ground at once, Otway convinced himself he could fill the Royal Albert Hall and struggled during rehearsals to gel with the Aylesbury Youth Orchestra on Jean-Paul Mezgar's arrangement of `The Highwayman'. But it turned out all right on the night (30 October 1998), as 4000 die-hards came to cheer him on. As Ali Mclean reveals, the Otway Army also did its bit on National Poetry Day in 1999 when its members voted in such numbers that `Beware of the Flowers' figured at No.7 in a BBC poll to find the greatest pop lyrics of all time.

This show of force convinced Otway to take another tilt at the singles chart in 2002, with `Bunsen Burner', which had been inspired by his efforts to help his daughter with her chemistry homework. In spite of its sampled section from `Disco Inferno' by The Trammps, major retail outlets like Woolworths, Tesco, Asda and WH Smith refused to stock the record. Indeed, even when fans bought sufficient copies to propel it to No.9, Woolies inserted a title of their own choice in their in-store displays. John Morter was deeply impressed, however, and, in 2009, he copied the strategy employed by the Otway's Hit campaign to pit Rage Against the Machine against Simon Cowell in the race for the Christmas No.1.

Keen to mark his 50th birthday in style, Otway assembled 900 fans at Abbey Road Studios to record the single's B-side, a cover of `The House of the Rising Sun' that incorporated the audience participation chants that had become a feature of live shows. However, the euphoria clearly went to Otway's head and his decision to hire a plane to take 300 fans on `the greatest world tour ever' seemed doomed from the start. Nevertheless, he put down a £10,000 deposit on Sydney Opera House and persuaded the likes of Steve Harley and Glenn Tilbrook to come with him. But, while dates were also announced for New York, Las Vegas and Tahiti, the cost of the enterprise kept rising and, with the plane still only half full, Otway scrapped the tour and took a sizeable financial hit.

As his 60th birthday approached, Otway announced the production of a movie and raised the budget by selling advance tickets to the premiere at the Odeon in Leicester Square. On the morning of the screening on 7 October 2012, he shot a red carpet sequence that was cut into the picture and over 1000 devotees had the pleasure of seeing themselves named as co-producers in the closing crawl. It has taken a while for the film to secure a general release after playing selected dates and festivals across the country. But this feelgood rockdoc is well worth the wait. Keeping it simple and sticking to the facts, Otway makes an engagingly eccentric guide through the ups, downs and plateaux of a splendidly esoteric career. The section on the aborted tour drags on a little and it might have been nice to hear a bit more of Otway's distinctive music. But, even with these minor gripes, you've still got to give it Four Headbutts.