Parky at the Pictures (DVD 21/8/2014)

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.

Produced to commemorate the centenary of the Great War, A Promise is an adaptation of Stefan Zweig's posthumously published novella, A Journey into the Past. It also marks the English-language debut of the admired French director Patrice Leconte. Although he made his name with comedies like Les Bronzés (1978) and The Hairdresser's Husband (1990), Leconte has also produced such notable period pieces as Ridicule (1996) and The Widow of Saint-Pierre (2000). But the combination of the stilted dialogue composed with Jérôme Tonnerre and some anachronistic acting undermines the credibility of a melodrama that is further enervated by a complete lack of chemistry between the young leads.

Having been raised as a ward of state, Richard Madden graduates from university in 1912 and is hired as an engineer by Frankfurt steel tycoon Alan Rickman. Impressed by his willingness to work late, Rickman moves Madden into an adjoining office with secretary Maggie Steed and further promotes him after he attends to him during an after hours seizure. Swearing Madden to secrecy about his illness, Rickman uses him as a go-between while he recuperates and introduces him to his wife, Rebecca Hall, and their young son, Toby Murray.

Despite sleeping with laundress Shannon Tarbet at his tenement digs, Madden is instantly smitten with Hall and volunteers to tutor Murray in order to spend more time with her and listen to her divine piano playing. Hall is delighted with Murray's progress and buys him a train set as a reward. But Madden is insulted when she tries to give him a bonus and Rickman notices their exchange from an upper-storey window. However, he is aware of Madden's value to the company and is intrigued when he explains how they could turn a greater profit if they started importing manganese from Mexico. The pair discuss the prospective deal at an open door as they marvel at Hall's interpretation of Beethoven's Sonata Pathétique and Madden later sneaks into the drawing-room to sniff the piano keys, oblivious to the fact he is being watched by housemaid, Sarah Messens.

He is also unaware that Hall has paid a visit to his lodgings and is taken aback when Rickman offers him the post of private secretary and suggests that he moves into his home, so that he can always be on hand if required. Tarbet is appalled by Madden's social-climbing treachery and watches him depart in a chauffeur-driven car after a last night of passion. Despite claiming to value his independence, Madden follows meekly up the stairs as Hall shows him to his room and notes that she has placed her favourite painting on the wall.

Madden listens raptly as she chats happily during supper and is surprised to be left alone with her when Rickman retires early. Hall explains that her husband never eats dessert and reveals that she married him when her fiancé died in a climbing accident. She has never found the age gap a problem, but is glad to have a new companion to help her finish a jigsaw. Their hands touch as they examine the pieces and Madden boldly informs her that the portrait Rickman had commissioned does her an injustice, as is conveys so little of her beauty and spirit. Despite thrilling to the compliment, Hall remains outwardly calm as she bids Madden goodnight and he watches her silhouette through the drawn curtains as she gets ready for bed.

The following morning, he takes a reckless chance by sneaking into her bedroom to listen to her humming in her bath. But he tries to keep his mind on his duties at the steelworks and his tutorials with Murray. However, they are interrupted one afternoon by a scream and Hall is grateful when Madden disposes of a rat that has come in from the garden. Rickman notices the relationship developing between the pair, but contents himself with sardonically ambiguous remarks and stern glances from windows, as Hall and Madden play a game in the garden with Murray and she assures her guest that she would never cheat in order to win. Yet her heart skips a beat one rainy evening when Madden stops the car to offer Hall a lift and he blows on her cold hands as he rubs them for warmth. On their return, Rickman scolds them for making too much noise in the nursery and Hall complains that she hates being cooped up in a monastery.

Madden offers to escort her to a village fete and is pleased to be mistaken for Murray's father. They flirt while posing for a photograph and stroll in the park after momentarily panicking that the boy had got lost. He dances with his mother in a lakeside pavilion and Madden looks on indulgently, while imagining holding Hall in his own arms. But Tarbet is less than impressed with his fixation and passes a crude comment about the boss's missus when she returns the few belongings that Madden had left at his old address.

Yet Rickman lends Madden a tuxedo so that he can accompany Hall to the theatre, where he gazes on her neck through his opera glasses and feels suitably emboldened to ask why they keep denying the obvious love between them. Hall is dismayed by his lack of tact and they drive home in silence. But Hall summons Madden when Rickman has an attack in the night and thanks him the following morning for the prompt action that saved her husband's life and delivered her from a fate worse than death.

While Rickman is confined to bed, he breaks the news to Madden that the bank has agreed to finance their Mexican venture. But he wishes him to manage the mine and Madden is left with little alternative but to accept the posting when Rickman asks if there are any personal reasons to prevent him from spending two years in Vera Cruz. Hall has to choke back the tears when Madden tells her he is leaving and he is distraught when she confesses that she will struggle to live without him. He tries to kiss her cheek, but Hall rushes away and resists a further attempt to embrace her while she is arranging some flowers. She suggests that they should take a vow to remain faithful to one another during his sojourn and wait to see if their feelings are still the same when he returns. Madden reluctantly agrees before the sound of a smashing vase brings Rickman running and Hall has to reassure him that Madden had been helping her capture a rodent

Murray is excited that Madden is going on an adventure and has him point out Mexico on his globe. But Hall can barely listen and, after supper, she breaks up her completed jigsaw in frustration. Madden drops to his knees to pick up the pieces from the floor and Hall gasps when he touches her ankle. However, she stops him from going any higher and flees to her room, where Madden watches her letting her hair down in silhouette while cherishing the face piece he has purloined from her puzzle.

On their last night together, Madden surprises butler Jean-Louis Sbille by moving his place setting closer to Hall. But they are interrupted by Rickman coming to wish his protégé bon voyage and he taunts them both by lighting a cigar and declaring that he has decided to indulge his pleasures while he still has the chance. Hall watches Madden's train depart the following morning and immediately begins a secret correspondence that requires her to open a post office box under an assumed name. She finally admits to her feelings, while Madden insists that he envies the paper on which he writes, as it will soon be held in her hands. But she lives in constant fear of Rickman discovering the box of letters on the top of her wardrobe and is crushed when he reveals that he has had a letter from Madden revealing that he almost died from a bout of fever.

But Hall retains her dignity when war breaks out and the missives stop coming after a Christmas postcard to the entire family announces that a naval blockade will delay Madden's return by six months. She continues to write even though her letters are returned unopened and Rickman has to console her when she wakes in the night in a cold sweat of fear. As the years pass, Hall tells her lover how Rickman fell ill after the steelworks were requisitioned and how she decided to send Murray to boarding school after his father's funeral. But she struggles to endure the pain of Rickman telling her on his deathbed that he had initially hoped to bring her and Madden together, but had sent him away because he could not bear the fact that he had so completely replaced him in her affections.

Indeed, so great is Hall's anguish that she scarcely seems to care when Germany loses the war and the Weimar Republic is proclaimed. Yet, six years after Madden's departure, she receives a phone call asking if he can visit. Hall throws open the curtains and abandons the mourning clothes she had been wearing for her lost love rather than her husband. She even has Sbille cut her hair in the latest style and can barely contain herself when Madden approaches through the mist the next day.

He explains that he has returned on business, as he now owns a chemical fertiliser plant and needs some contracts signing. Hall tries to make polite conversation, but flinches when he states that his greatest regret was being abroad while his compatriots were being slaughtered. He apologies for the prolonged silence and promises that he did send a letter after the Armistice. But Hall is simply glad that he is alive and that he world is now at peace. She tells him that Murray is studying geography at university and wishes to be an explorer. However, they finally get round to addressing the subject of their promise.

Madden slots the missing face piece into Hall's jigsaw and admits that he has slept with several women since they last met. But Hall concedes that men have needs and assures him that she does not hold his infidelities against him. They take a train and concur that it has taken a good deal of time for them to reach their destination. Yet all the hotels are booked because of a veterans' parade and Madden allows the desk clerk to think that a scar on his hand was incurred at the front. As the room is being cleaned, however, they go for a walk to the pavilion where Hall had danced with Murray on the day of their idyllic outing. As she gazes out across the lake, Madden touches her neck and places an arm around her shoulder. He nuzzles her and she makes him vow never to leave her again, as they turn to kiss.

Stefan Zweig started writing Journey into the Past in the 1920s and returned periodically to polish the prose before his death in 1942. The story remained unpublished until it appeared in a German collected works in 1976 and it has since divided critics between those who consider it a fine example of the Austrian's refined intensity and those who believe it to be a little stale. However, one suspects that Leconte and Tonnerre have done little to persuade many to seek out the original, as this is an airless interpretation whose flaws extend well beyond any latitude that one might grant a script being written in a second language.

The dialogue frequently rings hollow, but it hardly helps that Hall and Madden deliver it in a modern manner that exposes its gaucheness. Hall has several costume roles to her credit and it is surprising that she misses the fin de siècle feel by such a margin. Yet the usually reliable Rickman also seems a little wayward and their combined imprecision and lack of passion leaves the miscast Madden floundering, as he tries to keep up. The scene in which he and Rickman eavesdrop on Hall playing Beethoven is particularly excruciating, but Madden is no more convincing when arguing with Tarbet or giving orders to foremen and chauffeurs. However, it is the absence of a spark between the lovers that proves most ruinous, although Leconte must share the blame here, as he fails to convey any interiority as the characters declaim and shuffle around Ivan Maussion sets whose effectiveness (like that of Pascaline Chavanne's costumes) is seriously undermined by the usually impeccable Eduardo Serra's flatly lit digital imagery. Even Gabriel Yared's score seems to prolong the agony of a picture that owes nothing to life and does a severe disservice to its source.

Conflict also plays a key role in The Year and the Vineyard, Jonathan Cenzual Burley's delightfully dotty follow-up to The Soul of Flies (2011). Set in a sleepy village in the wine-growing province of Salamanca, this disarming time-travel saga manages to be a quirky science-fiction fantasy, as well as a satire on 21st-century attitudes to the role of the church and state, the growing gulf between the generations and the ongoing crisis of Spanish masculinity Meticulously staged, mischievously played, mellifluously scored and movingly concluded, this is both cosy and audacious and confirms Cenzual Burley as a left-field talent to watch.

In April 1937, the volunteer Italian force known as the Garibaldi Brigade formed part of the International Brigades fighting to preserve the Second Spanish Republic. However, as Sicilian Andrea Calabrese makes his way from Madrid to the frontline at Guadalajara, he falls through a hole in time and lands in a vineyard in present day Salamanca. Unable to understand the stranger's complaints that he might have broken his back, owner Luis Cenzual wonders whether he is an angel and sends elderly Hortensia Lucas to fetch priest Javier Sáez.

So excited by the prospect that a miracle might have occurred in his backwater parish, Sáez runs across the fields. But Cenzual is more worried about compensation for the damage done to his vines and tells Sáez that he expects the Catholic Church to pay if Calabrese does turn out to be on his team. Fearful of being taken prisoner, however, Calabrese flees and takes sanctuary in a rocky nook by the river.

The following morning, he washes in a pool and, when Maria Escobar comes to fetch water, she informs him that he is in Miranda del Castanar, some 400km from Guadalajara. Unsurprisingly, Calabrese is confused and experiences a flashback after taking a tumble. He finds himself in Sicily and falling for Laura Drewett, who teases him that she might be a mermaid who decided to dwell on dry land. However, when he wakes, Calabrese is lying in bed in teacher Fede Sánchez's spare room. He informs Calabrese that he has some good and some bad news. The downside is that he has landed in Nationalist territory, but the upshot is that his side won the Battle of Guadalajara and that the war has been over for 75 years.

Calabrese jumps out of bed thinking that Sánchez is crazy. But he slinks back after looking out of the window and, during a walk around the village, he confirms that he has somehow slipped through time. The smell of combat has disappeared and the tears of the fallen have long been dried by the sun. But Calabrese feels uneasy at being in a time that does not belong to him and in a peace that he did not win. He stares up at a medieval citadel in bemusement and wonders what on earth to do next.

Sánchez reports to Sáez that Calabrese is a displaced Republican and not a celestial emissary. However, Sáez hugs the teacher and urges him to listen to his heart, as they could be in the middle of another Lourdes and he insists on examining Calabrese himself. The Sicilian smokes and looks unimpressed as Sáez examines his back for evidence of wing sockets and beckons to him to extend his arms to see if he has the requisite two metre wingspan mentioned in his book. He asks Calabrese for permission to check if he has sexual organs and he curtly assures the priest that he does. Sáez then shows him images of Jesus, Mary and saints Anthony, Teresa and Jerome and Sánchez hides a smile when Calabrese tells Sáez that he and St Jerome were childhood pals.

Crestfallen, Sáez announces the bad tidings to the peasants gathered beneath the window. However, Lucas suggests that he might be a saint rather than an angel and Sáez returns to ask Calabrese to turn a glass of water into wine. He swirls his finger in the liquid with some irritation and snaps at Sáez when he takes a sip and tuts with disappointment. The cleric shrugs and tells Calabrese that he had to check, as, after all, his story is more than a little unusual.

As he wanders in the hills, Calabrese remembers fragments of his idyllic life with Drewett: how she never wore shoes, but loved tomatoes and always smelt of the sun coming through the window. He adored the way she pushed her hair behind her ear and was grateful to her for keeping him sane, as the Spanish Civil War raged and he felt powerless to do anything about it. Sánchez finds Calabrese as he sits on a stone wall looking at Drewett's photograph. He hopes she died peacefully in her sleep, as she had wanted to fight alongside him and he tells Sánchez that he would do anything to see her again.

Rain pours down on Miranda del Castanar and the surrounding countryside. Sáez sits in his room and asks the propped up holy pictures why they sent him an Italian atheist rather than a saint. He prays for advice on how to convert him and admonishes the voices in his head for all speaking at once. Shushing the others, he asks Jesus for his input and he concludes that seducing Calabrese with opera is a stroke of genius.

Early the next morning, Calabrese goes for a walk in the woods to take some photographs. He spots Sánchez, who is surprised to see him and insists he is searching for mushrooms. However, the newcomer realises that he is spying on Escobar as she fills her buckets at the tap and admonishes the teacher for suppressing his feelings for two years and reminds him that good wine goes sour if it is left in the barrel too long. Much to Sánchez's consternation, Calabrese calls Escobar and he has no option but to engage her in conversation. She asks how the visitor is doing and he says he is suffering because of love. Escobar wonders what it must feel like to be that devoted to someone and Calabrese hugs himself as Sánchez offers to carry her water home.

Wandering on, he is dismayed to see Sáez kneeling at the side of the road. He has hidden a radio tuned to the opera channel in the undergrowth and asks the Sicilian if he can hear singing. Calabrese tells the priest he is a crackpot when he claims to be mimicking Christ asking St Peter from the Cross why he denied him. Sáez urges Calabrese to let the Almighty guide his footsteps, but he growls that he follows no one and insists there is no such thing as God in a war zone. Realising he is getting nowhere, Sáez switches off the radio and walks silently alongside Calabrese, who has forbidden him to speak.

A montage shows Calabrese being accepted by the locals and sampling a fiery brew, as Sánchez dances with Escobar. The camera picks out grazing donkeys and mooching cats, as it roves across the rooftops and over the valley. But, as Calabrese leafs through a book on the Spanish Civil War, he sees a photograph of Drewett firing a rifle from behind a rock during the Battle of Guadalajara. As it is dated 17 March 1937 and he fell on the third, he pleads with Sánchez to help him travel back so his beloved doesn't have to fight alone.

As he harks back to the day of his departure, Calabrese tells Sánchez that Drewett wore a white lace dress and accepted his ring as they swore their own wedding vows and forgot the troubles of the world for a single day of pure happiness. He drove off in a truck the next morning and she saluted him with a red handkerchief. But he now knows that she left Italy a few days later and joined the International Brigades and he simply has to find her.

Sánchez arranges for Calabrese to meet veteran Felix Cenzual, who remembers a lot of Italians dying bravely at Guadalajara. He calls it a pointless battle and admits not knowing what happened to Drewett. But he suggests that Calabrese should look for another lover if his trip to the battlefield proves fruitless. The old man recalls the thrill he felt when the war ended and regrets that the peace didn't eradicate hunger, poverty and suffering. As he leaves, he urges Calabrese to take his chance and wonders whether they might bump into each other in 1937.

Back at the vineyard, Luis Cenzual has found an unexploded bomb and demands that Sáez pays for the damage, as it fell from the heavens that are his jurisdiction. When he regrets that he won't be able to help, the farmer tuts that his predecessor would have sorted something out, but Sáez curses under his breath that Fr Damian is now residing in Cuba with his Romanian mistress.

As they work out what to do with the missile, Calabrese reasons that it must have fallen through the same hole in the skein of time as he did. Therefore, he asks Sánchez if it is possible that they could find the tear to enable him to clamber through it and resume his old life. Cenzual suggests that they throw stones upwards and note the place where any fail to fall back to earth. Unable to think of anything better, Calabrese ropes Sánchez and Sáez into tossing stones (and an amusing cutaway shows them peppering soldier Norberto Gutierrez, as he tries to lay low in a 1930s foxhole).

After several unsuccessful lobs, Sáez hits the spot and Calabrese quickly follows suit to confirm the precise place in the sky. The trio return with a ladder and Sánchez and Sáez hold it upright so that Calabrese can pop his head in and check if they have found the right place. He climbs down and Sánchez asks if he can have a peek at the past. Calabrese hopes he doesn't get shot, as Sáez asks him why he would rather risk his life in 1937 than stay in their peaceful present.

Climbing down in ashen-faced silence, Sánchez claims to have witnessed Hell and wanders away in horror. He tells Calabrese he is insane for wanting to go back there, but the Sicilian insists he has to, as he might just tilt the balance. Besides, he has to try and find Drewett, as she made such a deep impression on him that he had to sing his love for her. However, he agrees to stay for three more days in order to help Sánchez tell Escobar how he feels and the action cuts to the trio creeping up to her house at dusk.

Once again, Sánchez loses his nerve. But Sáez calls out her name, as a wedding would give him something to do. They push Sánchez forward and Escobar asks what he is doing in her olive grove. Suddenly, Calabrese begins to play the guitar and Sánchez sings a love song with such awkward sincerity that Sáez is worried Escobar will burst out laughing. Amused and charmed, she applauds and asks Sánchez why he never said anything before. She tells the priest and the Italian to go home and they look back to see her greeting Sánchez and taking him by the hand.

The day of departure arrives and the trio return with the ladder to the middle of the vineyard. Calabrese accepts a scarf to keep him warm and thanks Sáez and Sánchez for their assistance. As they hug, Sáez pleads with him not to shoot any priests and gives him the lighter he uses for candles in church to light a cigarette. They look up as he vanishes and realise they are alone again. Lowering the ladder, Sánchez suggests they go for a glass of wine.

Landing with a bump in the bitter cold of March 1937, Calabrese moves forward hesitantly with his revolver drawn. A dark pall hangs over the horizon and he discovers that the fighting has already moved on. He walks through villages decimated by mortars and finds the hill where he saw Drewett in the photograph. There is no sign of life, but Calabrese swears to keep walking until he finds her.

Acting as his own cinematographer and editor, Jonathan Cenzual Burley is something of a one-man band. But his imagery and pacing are as assured as his writing and direction and, as a consequence, this space-time oddity beguiles, amuses and intrigues. The underlying notion that the soil and sky never forget is deeply poignant, as is the emphasis on the undying love involved in religious belief, patriotism, idealism and romantic passion. Yet, while it provides plenty to think about, especially as the numbers of those who survived the Spanish Civil War are now dwindling fast, this is primarily a comic study of the impact that time and place have on personality.

It would appear as though all three male principals are outsiders. Yet, even though the taciturn Sánchez and the excitable Sáez have not quite being accepted by the locals, they are expected to have all the answers where Calabrese is concerned. The villagers are much of a muchness to his eyes and ears and, yet, these are the very people he was prepared to lay down his life for three-quarters of a century before. Ultimately, however, the peace they offer him fails to exert the same pull as the love he left behind and Cenzual Burley makes subtle use of the light in the flashbacks to ensure that Calabrese's past seem shinier and more vibrant than the present into which he had stumbled.

The performances are splendid, although Sáez's affectations grate slightly and more might have been made of Escobar's eminent good sense and affectionate amusement at Sánchez's bashful adoration. Nevertheless, the banter is witty and brisk, while Tim Walters's folksy guitar score is as beautiful as Flash Johnson's sensitive sound design and Cenzual Burley's use of saturated colour, which belies the paucity of the budget. Some are going to find this too quaint, other too quirky. But those seeking an offbeat paean to the things that make life worthwhile will be enriched and charmed.

Manchester United fans will doubtless be appalled to learn that Matt Busby was playing for Liverpool in 1937. On 25 April 1968, however, he fulfilled his dream of winning the European Cup for the biggest football team in Salford. He had been close to conquering the continent a decade earlier, but eight of the side known affectionately as the Busby Babes were killed in the Munich air disaster in February 1958 and the guilt that the Roman Catholic Scotsman felt at surviving when so many young men lost their lives remained with him for the rest of his life. The trauma is somewhat romanticised, however, in David Scheinmann's Believe, which draws on true events to show how the long-retired Busby instilled the spirit of ’58 into a team of no-hopers in a tournament for Under-12s.

Ironically, Busby had enlisted the help of star players Bobby Charlton, Denis Law, Nobby Stiles and George Best to help junior team Barton United triumph over nasty city councillor David Lodge in David Bracknell's Children's Film Foundation outing, Cup Fever (1965). And, to be honest, there's not much to choose between that low-budget romp and this whimsical variation, which is so stuffed with clichés, contrivances and caricatures that it's a wonder it has managed to secure a general release. However, there are worse ways to treat a football-mad kid during the school holidays and they don't have to support the Red Devils to enjoy it.

It's 1984 and Georgie Gallagher (Jack Smith) has been raised alone by his mother Erica (Natasha McElhone) since his father was killed in a car crash. However, while she is keen for Georgie to obtain a scholarhsip to Lancashire Grammar School, he is more interested in football and takes a flyer advertising the Manchester Cup from the school noticeboard during an open day. On his way home, Georgie sees an elderly man paying for a taxi outside the church where he is about to attend a funeral and dashes past to steal his wallet in the hope it contains the £21 entrance fee needed to enter his team in the seven-a-side tournament.

Making his excuses to his wife Jean (Anne Reid), Sir Matt Busby (Brian Cox) orders betting buddy Bob (Philip Jackson) to follow the scarpering scamp in his car and a chase ensues through the streets of working-class Manchester and a shopping mall. However, Georgie manages to give them the slip and joins pals Steve (Joshua Dunne), Harry (Harry Armes), Barry (Jack Armes), Paul (Sam Wisniewski) and Frankie (Finlay Preston) as they dance in Nutty Boy formation to the Madness song, `Baggy Trousers'. They are watched by Frankie's seven year-old brother, Spencer (Spencer Jack Phillips), who is riding his bike while wearing a large overcoat and a policeman's helmet. He longs to be one of the gang, but is kept on the periphery, as Georgie announces that they are going to go up for the cup.

Despairing of catching up with the thief, Bob cajoles Matt into having a pint in a Man United supporters club, where barmaid Helen (Kate Ashfield) thinks the older man looks familiar, but can't quite place him. However, she refuses to serve them a pint on tick and Matt dashes off when he sees Georgie wander past the open door. He follows him back to his street, where he notes his skill as he plays keepy-uppy. However, Matt threatens to call the police unless Georgie returns the wallet and explains why he took it. The boy tells him about the upcoming tournament and Matt agrees to forget the theft if Georgie allows him to coach his team to victory. Not having a clue who the old fellow is, Georgie reluctantly agrees and Bob wonders what his friend is up to. But, having been daydreaming earlier in the day about Duncan Edwards and his fellow air crash victims, Matt wonders whether this is the answer to his perennial question about why he was spared.

Georgie is forced to miss the first training session, however, as Erica has asked LGS teacher Dr Farquar (Toby Stephens) if he will give her son some private tuition before the entrance exam. He disapproves of sport and prefers brass band music and has taken a dim view of Georgie since he had to break up a scuffle between him and first-year student Bailey (Raif Clarke) in the corridor outside his office. However, Matt puts the other six youngsters through their paces and is amused to notice that both Spencer and Steve's sister Sinead (Aine O'Duffy) are keen to join in. As she passes on her way home, Helen finally recognises Matt and he makes her promise to say nothing about his true identity to the boys.

Bob talks Matt into going to the local greyhound track and Georgie overhears them discussing a surefire favourite. So, he steals some money from Erica cash tin and puts it all on the dog. Unfortunately, it loses and he is still in a funk when he comes across Matt conducting a training session in the street. He has brought along some grapefruit and tells the players to dribble them through a series of cones because that was how the great Brazilian Pelé developed his skills. Georgie thinks he's bonkers and refuses to co-operate. But Matt plays on his ego and he is showing the others how it should be done when Erica comes out in a fury to ban him from all football for taking her savings.

More desperate than ever to get some money to pay back his mother and find the entrance fee, Georgie decides to break into Farquar's house and take back the cash he had handed over for his lessons. However, he succeeds only in getting himself arrested and Matt has to go to the police station to bail him out. They agree not to tell Erica what has happened and Georgie allows Matt to pay the team's dues. But Matt insists that Georgie has to apologise to Farquar before he speaks to Erica about letting him play.

As they reach Matt's car, he is surprised by Georgie's reluctance to accept a lift home and the boy weeps when he recalls how his father was killed and how his mother tried to hide the truth from him and he found it out from some classmates. Having had his own brush with tragedy, Matt can emphathise with Georgie and is disappointed when Farquar informs him that he has no intention of allowing him to play football, as getting a decent education is much more important.

Still unaware of her son's misdemeanour, Erica drops him off to study at the Rylands Library in Manchester city centre. But, no sooner has she turned the corner than Georgie dashes to the field where Kersal Reds are playing St Bart's in the first of two group games. Fearing that Georgie won't make it, Matt puts Spencer in the team, only to substitute him when Georgie arrives. He is easily the star player. But the others refuse to pass to him and Matt tears them off a strip in the changing-room at half-time. They explain that they thought he had betrayed them, but Matt puts them straight and has to apologise to them for losing his temper after Jean reminds him that he is talking to children not professional footballers.

During the first half, however, Erica learns about the break-in from Farquar and she is furious to find that Georgie has absconded from the library. Consequently, she drags him away before the kick-off and tells his teammates to sling their hook when they come round in their kit to celebrate their 1-0 win. Matt and Bob share a drink on a park bench as darkness falls and wonder what they've got themselves into. But they are back for the tie against Ancoats Blues and are happier than anyone when little Spencer scores a vital equaliser. He is hauled off when Georgie arrives from a tutorial with minutes to go and rushes on to take a direct free-kick on the edge of the penalty area. Dismayed to see Erica leaving without waiting to see if he scores, Georgie muffs his shot and it sails over the bar. But the draw is enough to see the Reds into the semi-finals and Matt reassures Georgie that next time he takes a vital kick, he will know to visualise what he is trying to do and will believe sufficiently in his ability to score with his eyes closed.

As he drops Georgie home, Matt tells Erica that it would mean a lot to the boy if she would watch him play. His own father died during the Great War when he was six and he never saw Matt in action. But, when Erica snaps that she has to be a mum and a dad to her son, Helen coaxes her into realising that Georgie has a dream and that she will never forgive herself if she crushes it. As a consequence, Erica stands on the touchline as Georgie thrashes in the winner against Rusholme Rovers in the semi and Helen's son Stevie makes a couple of wonder saves to keep the score at 2-1.

But, as bad luck would have it, the final against LGS just happens to coincide with the entrance exam and Georgie accuses Erica of lying to him again so that he will have to miss the match. Farquar is unimpressed by the tantrum and wonders if Georgie is the sort of lad they want at the grammar school. Matt has no doubts that he has the right stuff and he goes home to look through the keepsakes he has stored in a trunk. He thinks back to the anxious looks that the players shot him as it dawned on them that something was wrong with the plane back in 1958 and he shudders at the weight he feels at having outlived them.

By now, the rest of the team have found out who Matt is and, at the next training session, they squint through the mist as he points towards Tommy Taylor, Roger Byrne and Duncan Edwards emerging from the glow of the floodlights. He tells the players that the Babes came from humble beginnings and urges them to attain the dream that his lost boys could never reach. But the news that Matt is famous only confirms Georgie's contention that all grown-ups are liars and, even though Frankie informs him that the final will be played on Matt's 75th birthday, he vows to have nothing more to do with the Kersal Reds. Indeed, even when Matt tries unsuccessfully to persuade Farquar to move the exam, Georgie comes to the door and tells Matt that he no longer cares about football or people who let him down.

On the morning of the examination, Georgie receives a good luck message from Matt containing one of his old medals. He asks Erica to go to the game and she sits nervously in the stands at Salford City as Matt is interviewed by the local television news and he confides that this is a glory day he will never forget. As the 110-minute paper begins, Georgie looks up to see Farquar give him a reassuring nod from the balcony and he starts to write.

Back at the final, Matt gives his pep talk about playing as a team and sends his charges out to face LGS. As Steve makes a string of fine saves, Farquar gulps back a drink in his study and quotes Horace's famous maxim about daring to be wise. Rousing himself, he marches the LGS brass band on to the pitch as the teams go off at half-time with Kersal trailing 0-1 and he keeps on playing as the tannoy announcer (who sounds an awful lot like Angus Deayton) passes smarmy remarks about Farquar's refusal to leave as the teams come out for the second period.

Realising that Farquar is trying to delay proceedings until Georgie has finished his exam, Matt sends Erica to fetch him and they make it back to the ground just in time, even though the car breaks down and they have to run the last mile. Once again, Spencer is substituted, as Farquar and the band collapse in an exhausted heap at the side of the pitch. But the change has a detrimental effect, as LGS score a second goal and Sinead has to separate her squabbling teammates as Matt tries to bark instructions.

Georgie pulls one back at the end of a mazy dribble and Steve has to make another crucial parry before Sinead and Frankie set up the equaliser. Bailey and the bullies in laser blue look on askance as Georgie bellows out encouragement in slow-motion. But they are even more aghast when the referee awards Kersal a free-kick in the dying seconds and Georgie recalls Matt's advice about picturing the scene and believing as he slots the winner with his eyes closed. Matt leaps off the bench with joy and looks into the sun to see the Babes lined up in a last tribute to their old gaffer. Duncan Edwards salutes him before the turn and walk away and Jean comes to stand beside him, as he smiles proudly.

Erica is so overcome that she rushes out of the stands and grabs the cup to present to Georgie herself and Matt helps her lift the boy on to their shoulders so he can hold the trophy aloft. As they walk home, Bob tells Matt he has a tip for a horse and the Scot asks to borrow a fiver. They stroll through the terraced streets and Bob comments that he has heard a boy with real talent lives somewhere round here. A David B. Or something.

As the closing caption reveals that Matt Busby died at the age of 84 in 1994, we are left to wonder if the kids gathered around him in the photograph are the real Kersal Reds or just some random fans posing with their hero. It doesn't really matter, but it reinforces the feeling that this is a film that makes too few careless misjudgements. The most egregious is the lazy Beckham joke that falls horribly flat because he was born and raised in East London. But moments like the kids turning up at Georgie's house in their kit hours after the game has ended and Erica hijacking the presentation ceremony are annoyingly trite and raise the hackles of Koppite critics on the look out for anything with which to beat a movie about the Mancs.

Parochial rivalry aside, Scheinmann and fellow scribes Massimiliano Durante and Carmelo Pennisi are guilty of dwelling overlong and over mawkishly on the Munich Babes, especially in a story so slight and predictable that it would have been rejected for the old comic strip, Billy's Boots. However, the juvenile cast members are splendidly sprightly, although Jack Smith doesn't quite have the range to convince entirely in the lead. But, with McElhone and Stephens coasting and Brian Cox doing a pretty poor impersonation of Sir Matt, the adults hardly set him the best example and they are frequently upstaged by the marvellous Spencer Jack Phillips.

Yet, for all its shortcomings, sentimentality and philosophical superficiality, this is a perfectly amiable picture for adolescents, as it not only teaches them something about learning how to prioritise, but it also has much to say about parent-child relationships, teamwork, the class divide and how sometimes raw talent isn't quite enough. Moreover, the match sequences are better choreographed than they have been in several recent football films. But, while Scheinmann can't be blamed for sticking to the Boy's Own formula, he might have followed Mark Herman and John Hay's respective leads in Purely Belter and There's Only One Jimmy Grimble (both 2000) and opted for a little more northern grit and a lot less cornball feelgood.

A very different form of teenage experience plays out in Northwest, Dane Michael Noer's slick, but inescapably formulaic follow-up to his acclaimed prison drama, R: Hit First, Hit Hardest (2010), which he co-directed with Tobias Lindholm. Had it been made in this country, there is every chance that this sophomore effort would have been dismissed as just another tepid exercise in BritCrime. But Noer is smart enough to ride on the Nordic Noir wave, while also slipping in enough tropes from Dogme95 and the Nicolas Winding Refn playbook to ensure that this will be spared the scorn our national press usually reserves for Mockney flicks

Eighteen year-old Casper (Gustav Dyekjær Giese) lives in the rough Nordvest area of Copenhagen with his mother Olivia (Lene Maria Christensen) and his younger siblings, Andy (Oscar Dyekjær Giese) and Freja (Annemieke Bredahl Peppink). He makes money burgling houses with his sidekick Robin (Nicholas Westwood Kidd) and fencing the goods through local gangsters, Jamal (Dulfi Al-Jabouri) and Ali (Ali Abdul Amir Najei). However, he is tired of them ripping him off and treating him like a chattel. So, when rival thug Bjørn (Roland Møller) offers to give Casper a bigger cut of the profits and show him a little more respect, he jumps at the opportunity, after the Arabs steal his watch and beat Andy while they are having a night out with girlfriends Sofia (Marina Vorobyeva) and Petra (Jelena Bundalovic).

Robin is convinced that Jamal will wreak revenge for their treachery, but Casper becomes a trusted member of Bjørn's operation after he makes good on his promise to deliver a valuable light fitting and steps up to the plate when muscleman Theis (Clement Black Petersen) proves too drunk to drive a couple of escorts (Irina V. Babenko and Monika Paula Fasula) to their appointments around the city. Indeed, Bjørn is so impressed with Casper's skills as both a thief and a pimp that he forgives him when Jamal and Ali smash the windscreen of his car as a warning that they are not going to take his defection lying down. Bjørn also takes a shine to Andy when he starts dealing drugs hidden in the handlebars of his scooter and teaches the fatherless boys how to box in his back garden.

Touched at being treated to a day at a luxury spa, Olivia is particularly pleased with the extra money coming in as she will be able to throw Freja a birthday party for her classmates. But Casper has misgivings about getting Andy too deeply involved, especially when Bjørn informs Casper that he wants him to eliminate his rivals. He takes him into the woods and teaches him how to shoot with a handgun and sends him off to await the call that Jamal's new hideout has been found. Inevitably, it comes during the birthday party and Casper has no option but to ask Andy to give him a ride on the back of his scooter to the hut tucked away behind an outskirts cemetery. He sees Jamal in the outdoor shower, but not only lacks the nerve to shoot him, but he also soils himself and Andy is so disgusted by his timidity that he takes the weapon himself and guns Jamal down at a drive-through McDonald's.

They burn their clothes and destroy the scooter before heading home. But, when Casper goes to a bar, Ali confronts him and he has to escape shirtless through the streets before begging a passing police patrol to arrest him. He denies all the accusations put by officer Kim Hansen (Peter Zandersen) and is freed without charge. However, he knows that he and Andy will have to lay low for a while and Olivia berates him for getting his brother into such a mess. Andy is hiding in Bjørn's basement and is so frustrated at seeing Casper take all the plaudits for the hit that he blurts out the truth and Casper has to flee when Bjørn finds a large sum of money in his holdall. As he runs to rendezvous with Sofia in the getaway car, Casper is pursued by Ali and his gang. He hurtles along a hedge-lined path in the park and disappears from view just as shots ring out and the screen falls dark.

Non-professional siblings Gustav and Oscar Dyekjær Giese acquit themselves admirably in this gutsy treatise on the difficulty of escaping one's surroundings, which laces its workaday crime elements with some acute observations on the recessional plight facing Danish youth and the tensions that exist between Copenhagen's lower classes and its immigrant communities. Essentially, this is a throwback to the kind of gangster saga that Warner Bros churned out in the 1930s, in which James Cagney tried to keep his kid brother out of lumber. But Noer is too aware of the need to pack the action with plenty of sex, drugs and shakicam and, as a result, this offers little to distinguish it from the kind of identikit crime pictures being produced across the continent.

Magnus Nordenhof Jønck's cinematography captures Casper's restlessness, while also picking out the pertinent details in Trine Padmo Olsen's telltale interiors. Editor Adam Nielsen also merits a mention. But Noer and co-scenarist Rasmus Heisterberg (whose CV includes Niels Arden Oplev's The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, 2009 and Nikolaj Arcel's Oscar-nominted costumer, A Royal Affair, 2012) struggle for socio-political insights to match their authentic depiction of the various lock-ups, nightclubs and hotel rooms in which Bjørn conducts his sordid business. Moreover, they leave too many things unexplained, such as who supplies Casper with the drugs he hides in a flowerpot in the cemetery and where the second scooter comes from on the night of the killing. Thus, while this still has more Dardenne than Dyer about it, there is no escaping the enervating lack of originality in both the content and the approach.