Parky at the Pictures (DVD 26/2/2015)

In the first of four chapters, entitled `Her Majesty, the Street', Campillo captures the bustle and anonymity of the Gare du Nord in Paris, as he follows smartly dressed fiftysomething Olivier Rabourdin across the concourse. Despite his evident affluence, Rabourdin seems ill at ease and it becomes clear that he is seeking out a rent boy. Eventually, he approaches Kirill Emelyanov, a teenage Ukrainian who seems somewhat taken aback by the prospect of meeting Rabourdin at his apartment the following evening. However, he accepts the invitation and shuffles back towards his pals, as Rabourdin scurries away.

Clearly naive in such matters, Rabourdin would prefer to take the risk of giving his address to a complete stranger than make out in a public lavatory. But he pays for his folly in `This Party of Which I Am a Hostage', as Emelyanov keeps the assignation, only to be accompanied by Russian thug Danil Vorobyev, who bursts through the door with his cohorts and announces that there is going to be a party. The loud music, however, is used to deaden the noise made by the gang members as they each room of its furniture and valuables and carry them out to the street. Taunted by the swaggeringly menacing Vorobyev, Rabourdin makes no attempt to protect his property, while Emelyanov avoids eye contact as the robbery takes place.

Much to Rabourdin's surprise, therefore, the youth returns to the scene of the crime the next day and offers to make good on his promise at the station. Communicating in broken French and English, the pair reach an understanding and Emelyanov returns for a second session. But Rabourdin senses that he is not simply selling himself and, when he starts responding in the bedroom, Rabourdin suggests that Emelyanov moves into the spare room and that they re-calibrate their relationship. Grateful for the trust and security that Rabourdin can offer, Emelyanov begins to open up as `What We Make Together' develops. He helps decorate the room and reveals that he lost his family in Chechnya and fell in with Vorobyev on coming to Paris because he made him feel as though he belonged.

However, as `Halt Hotel: Dungeons and Dragons' opens, it becomes clear that Vorobyev regards Emelyanov as his property. Thus, he beats the Ukrainian when he returns to the seedy hotel the Russian uses as his headquarters in a bid to steal back his passport. However, concierge Edéa Darcque is shocked when Raboudin shows up to rescue the prisoner (who has been manacled in a storeroom) and calls the police to round up the waifs and strays. But the older man has learnt from his experiences. So, when Vorobyev breaks into his apartment for a showdown, he finds it has already been abandoned.

Drawing telling parallels between the bond established by Rabourdin and Emelyanov and Vorobyev's relationship with 14 year-old ward Beka Markozashvili, Campillo plays down the gay romantic aspects of this unflinching narrative, which shifts adroitly between drama and thriller without overly straining credibility. There are graphic moments, but the focus here is less on sex than on the state of modern masculinity and the extent to which it has been moulded by the realities of a free(r) continent and a lingering recession. In truth, little has changed in the four decades since Klick reached his pessimistic conclusion about breaching the class and generational chasms dividing society. But Campillo is much more upbeat in suggesting that Rabourdin and Emelyanov have a future, no matter how uncertain it may be.

This pair complement each other admirably, as they help Campillo avoid coy sentiment. But Vorobyev steals every scene, as he seethes with a mixture of paternalism and criminality that is both classically Dickensian and dismayingly contemporary. Indeed, Campillo consistently demonstrates that he has his finger on the pulse of his conflicted country. But his socio-political insight is matched by his technical sureity. The opening sequence is particularly impressive, as Jeanne Lapoirie's widescreen camera surveys the station scene for some 10 minutes before Rabourdin makes his move. Their blocking of the theft party is equally assured and proves that Campillo is also a talented editor, as well as a fine writer of dialogue. But credit must also go to production designer Dorian Maloine, who fills each frame with telltale details about the contrasting lifestyles dividing Emelyanov's loyalties.

Having made a clutch of well-received shorts, Brazilian director Daniel Ribeiro devised the 2010 item I Don't Want to Go Back Alone with the express purpose of raising sufficient funds to expand it into a feature. He has now succeeded in his task and reassembled the same cast for The Way He Looks, an undeniably quaint love story that could easily become a touchstone for youths struggling to come to terms with their sexuality. However, for all its good intentions, this teenpic is so stuffed with clichés and caricatures that it becomes increasingly difficult to overlook its more implausible plot points. Consequently, while it's easy enough to empathise with the genial protagonists, one is left wishing that Ribeiro had taken one more pass at the screenplay to iron out its clunkier developments and give the dialogue a more natural ring.

Blind from birth, teenager Ghilherme Lobo lives with parents Lucia Romano and Eucir de Souza in an affluent part of São Paulo. Although he wants for nothing, Lobo is starting to resent his mother's over-protectiveness and confides in best friend Tess Amorim that he is investigating an exchange programme for blind kids in the United States that would enable him to asset his independence. The pair also discuss their desire to be kissed. But Lobo fails to realise that Amorim has a crush on him and, thus, doesn't notice her resentment when they return to school after the summer holidays and he is befriended by new student, Fabio Audi.

Despite the best efforts of teachers Júlio Machado and Naruna Costa, Lobo is forever being bullied by classmates led by Pedro Carvalho who play tricks on him and mock the typewriter he uses for his exercises. However, Audi seems willing to assist Lobo and his good looks and charm attract the attention of both Amorim and queen bee Isabela Guasco. However, Amorim becomes jealous when Audi offers to walk Lobo home after they all spend the afternoon together and the boys soon grow closer while working on a school project. They even go to the pictures and Lobo attempts to pay Audi back for whispering the plot to him by teaching him some Braille.

Amorim strives to reassert her pre-eminence by accompanying Lobo to an agency specialising in trips to America. But he is crushed to learn that parental approval is required for any application and is forced to lie about their support when the agency contacts him with details of a scheme designed for blind students. Meanwhile, Audi takes Lobo to experience a lunar eclipse and uses stones to explain what is happening. Lobo is touched by his eagerness to include him in everything and, that night, he sleeps in the sweatshirt that Audi has left behind. However, he comes down to earth with a bump when broaches the Stateside sojourn with his parents and De Souza questions why he feels the need to take such an audacious step when he knows that Romano is so set against him even being left on his own for more than a few minutes.

Amorim is also beginning to feel a bit frustrated with Lobo and is deeply hurt when he and Audi fail to wait for her for their daily walk home. Consequently, she tries to be aloof at a party thrown by Guasco and flirts with Audi as her alcohol intake increases. She confesses to being annoyed at being supplanted and surprises Audi both with the revelation that Lobo wants to travel and by suddenly kissing him. He refuses to reciprocate, however, and the spurned Amorim drags Lobo away from a game of spin the bottle because Carvalho is trying to force him to snog Guasco's pet dog. Unfortunately, Lobo misunderstands her reasons and says he just wants someone to kiss him and his wish comes true when Audi embraces him before retreating into the night.

Shortly afterwards, the class goes on a camping expedition and Audi tells Lobo on the bus that he was too wasted to know what he was doing at the party. Lobo shrugs at the explanation and uses a drinking session that evening to make things up with Amorim. Much to her initial dismay, he declares his love for Audi. But she accepts his choice and teases him when he asks if he is handsome. Later in the night, Lobo goes looking for Amorim and is talked into taking a midnight dip in the swimming pool by Guasco. However, he catches a cold and Amorim has to browbeat Audi into paying him a visit. Lobo asks if Audi got off with Guasco during the trip and he informs him that he turned her down by saying that he fancied someone else. Tentatively, Audi asks Lobo if he remembers the peck at the party. But, before he can continue, Lobo takes the initiative and kisses him.

Once back at school, Audi and Lobo submit their project and walk home with Amorim linking arms between them. Carvalho and his mates waylay them and accuse the boys of being gay. So, they swap places with Amorim and proudly hold hands and the bullies are left to deal with their own prejudices, as the film ends with Lobo riding a bicycle while Audi stands on the back wheel with his arms on his shoulders to give him directions.

This is an easy film to like, but it takes far fewer chances than its hero. Indeed, there is somethinng telenoveletish about the way in which Ribeiro resorts to melodrama to keep the story moving along. The trip to America turns out to be a macguffin, as it serves only to drive a wedge between Lobo and his parents and steer him into Audi's arms. The class project is another convenient device to get the lads together, while the sudden outburst at the party when Lobo doubts Amorim's motives for helping him feels equally specious. Nevertheless, the performances are appealing, with Lobo doing a particularly good job of presenting the inconvenient rather than the debilitating aspects of blindness. He is well supported by Amorim and Audi, who comes into his own during the sweet sequence in which he teaches Lobo to dance.

Pierre de Kerchove's photography is mercifully free of gauche attempts to suggest a blind person's perspective, while the soundtrack is replete with slyly apposite numbers like Marvin Gaye's `Let's Get It On' and David Bowie's `Modern Love'. However, had these been used in a heterosexual romance, they would have seemed that bit cornier and one suspects that it is this willingness to be a little coy and contrived that helped secure the picture the coveted Teddy Award for LGBT-themed titles at the Berlin Film Festival.

It can't harm a young film-maker's prospects to have a famous father for a director. But the downside comes when critics start making unhelpful comparisons, as has been the case with Max Nichols's Two Night Stand, which many American commentators have claimed captures the youthful zeitgeist in much the same way that his late father, Mike Nichols, did with The Graduate back in 1967. Sadly, such judgements are wide of the mark on two counts. Firstly, this smart, if limited debut falls way short of the standards set by Nichols père, while its hip satire on Internet dating has far more in common with Dustin Hoffman's second feature, Peter Yates's little-seen John and Mary (1969), in which he and Mia Farrow try to piece together the events of a one-night stand after meeting in a singles bar.

Having just been dumped unceremoniously by her fiancé, twentysomething Analeigh Tipton is feeling fragile. She slouches round the flat she shares with Jessica Szohr and complains that the world has got it in for her. However, Szohr (who is keen to have the place to herself to spend a little quality time with boyfriend Scott Mescudi) suggests that she takes control of her situation by joining an online dating agency and bagging herself a beau for the night.

Against her better judgement, Tipton opens a bottle of wine, perches on the sofa with her laptop and (through green text bubbles in the right-hand corner of the screen) soon finds herself fending off idiots and exchanging sparky banter with Miles Teller. The chat quickly moves on to sex and Tipton demands to be given a webcam tour of Teller's apartment in order to convince herself she is negotiating with a regular guy rather than a game-playing creep. Suitably reassured, she agrees to head out from the East Village to Brooklyn, even though it's approaching midnight.

One abrupt cut later, Tipton wakes with a rueful expression that tells viewers everything they need to know about the tryst. Beside her, Teller rolls over after snapping off the alarm and she tries to thank him for a lovely evening in order to beat a hasty retreat. But, having said her bickering goodbyes, Tipton discovers that an overnight snowdrift has marooned her inside the apartment block and she has no option but to return upstairs.

As they watch TV weatherman Michael Showalter explaining the reasons for the blizzard, Teller can scarcely suppress a smirk. But Tipton sulks her way through breakfast, a hit on a bong and a game of table tennis before managing to block the toilet. The mood lightens as the pair share snacks and dance to old LPs, but each conversational gambit invariably leads to another squabble and it almost comes as a relief when they have to climb up the fire escape to break into an another apartment so that Tipton can use the loo.

Back downstairs, the twosome continue to reveal small details of their lives and personalities, while remaining uncertain whether they like or loathe each other. Eventually, they broach the subject of the night before and offer each other tips on how to improve their sexual performance. This leads to them agreeing to give it another go to see if they have learned anything from the experience. But, just as Tipton realises she is beginning to quite like Teller, she finds a photograph hidden in a desk drawer and he is forced to confess that he is living with girlfriend Levin Rambin.

Teller shows Tipton the letter he found in Rambin's purse proving that they were about to break up when she had to go away for a few days. But Tipton feels he has cheated on them both and leaves the moment she can get the outside door open. Yet, while she refuses to answer Teller's online messages, it's clear to Szohr and Mescudi that she is in denial as she fends off eager suitors at a party.

Meanwhile, Teller has had a heart-to-heart with Rambin and they have called it a day. But he has to resort to drastic measures in order to reunite with Tipton, as he reports her to the police for breaking into his neighbour's flat. Furious that he would subject her to such humiliation, Tipton refuses to let him pay her bail and it's only when Szohr and Mescudi arrive at the police station that she agrees to speak to him. He insists that they should give their relationship more than two days and she relents when he makes her laugh with an apology balloon and the picture ends with Tipton and Teller smooching on a neatly ploughed street at dawn with fairy lights twinkling on the still pristine snow.

Notwithstanding the convolution of their premise, Nichols and first-time screenwriter Mark Hammer deserve considerable praise for putting their faith in dialogue rather than creakily cute sitcomedic set-pieces. The byplay relies a touch too much on teenspeak, but the well-matched Tipton and Teller cope admirably and would have generated much more heat if Nichols had committed to the two-shot a bit more rather than allowing editor Matt Garner to keep cutting between single close-ups. However, Nichols and cinematographer Bobby Bukowski make decent use of Molly Hughes's interiors, although Tipton's apartment seems far too big for someone on his moderate resources, while the romantic nook filled with cushions and a record player is more than a little twee.

Veteran playwright and first time film director Israel Horovitz is too much enamoured of the wit and acerbity of his own text to appreciate the power of the pause (whether Pinteresque or not) in his film version of his 2002 stage hit, My Old Lady. That is not to say that this cannily convoluted comedy of legal manners isn't hugely enjoyable, especially as its principal trio are on such fine form. But, even though Horovitz pluckily tries to open out the action with a few views of Paris, this stubbornly retains a proscenium feel and BBC Films may find more takers on the small screen than in cinemas.

Recovering alcoholic Kevin Kline has reached the age of 57 with nothing to show for several decades of struggle and disappointment. His three marriages have ended in divorce, while the three novels he has written have gone unpublished. Thus, the death of his detested businessman father comes as the first piece of good news that Kline has received in some time. But, when he meets with the executor, he discovers that his hateful parent has bequeathed his fortune elsewhere and left Kline nothing more than a musty collection of books and a three-storey apartment in Paris.

On arriving in the City of Lights, however, Kline uncovers new grounds for optimism, as the address is in the Marais and has its own private garden. He contemplates a quick sale for several million euros and a much-deserved fresh start with the proceeds. But he then learns from estate agent Dominique Pinon about the peculiar French equity custom of viager, which means that a buyer making a down payment on a property has to grant the vendor the right to remain in situ for as long as they wish, while also paying them a monthly annuity.

This brand of real estate speculation usually benefits the purchaser, as they tend to pick bargain premises that are occupied by senior citizens seeking a small stipend to see them through their last days. But the accursed Kline has the misfortune to be in thrall to the sprightliest 92 year-old in the entire French capital. And, naturally, it soon transpires that English émigrée Maggie Smith is not just any old tenant.

Having nowhere else to go, Kline accepts his usufructious situation and asks Smith if he can move into the spare room while he makes alternative arrangements. She graciously agrees. However, Smith also reminds Klinen that the apartment will revert to her if he reneges on any of the monthly payments to which she is still entitled. This development brightens the mood of Smith's petulant daughter, Kristin Scott Thomas, who has found living with her mother so taxing that she has drifted into an affair with married father of two, Stéphane De Groodt.

Kline disapproves of the liaison and shames Scott Thomas into ending the affair. But he is not above deception himself and tries to coax doctor Noémie Lvovsky into revealing the state of Smith's health. Moreover, he has also held discussions with property developer Stéphane Freiss, who wishes to demolish the entire building to build a soulless luxury hotel. But Kline pays the price for his snooping, as he finds a photograph of his father canoodling with Smith and she readily concedes that they were lovers. Indeed, she declares that he and Scott Thomas are half-siblings and admits that she is probably the reason why Kline's mother committed suicide in front of him when he was a teenager.

These revelations send Kline scurrying to the wine cellar and he finds a drinking companion in Scott Thomas, who finally understands why her father was so cool towards her. They resist Smith's mischievous suggestion that a little incestuous consolation might do them both the world of good. But a quick DNA test at Lvovsky's surgery reassures him that he is not Smith's son and he sobers up long enough to find a solution that seems acceptable to everyone except Freiss.

The 75 year-old Horovitz has penned over 70 plays and his structuring of the narrative as it shifts from mild comedy to anguished melodrama is extremely deft. He also knows how to write monologues, with Kline particularly revelling in a couple of drunken rants. But Smith and Scott Thomas are also accorded grandstanding set-pieces of their own and the action starts to resemble an actorly showcase, as it rather lurches towards its overly convenient conclusion. The excessive signposting of Mark Orton's score adds to the growing sense of frustration as Michel Amathieu's camera is increasingly confined within the cavernous apartment artfully decorated by production designer Pierre-François Limbosch and Horovitz lingers over close-ups of his stars emoting with such skill that they seem to be giving mini-masterclasses as much as playing characters.

And therein lies the problem. Kline, Smith and Scott Thomas are too good for the material and the latter pair end up coasting in roles that demand too little of them. Smith should have been pushed further into Bette Davis territory, while Kline should have edged towards Jack Lemmon. But even though the plot runs the risk of lurching into implausibility, it never quite captures the affectionate levity and subtle poignancy of Billy Wilder's Avanti! (1972), with which it shares a premise and a dash of continental sauciness and mid-life melancholy.

Vitality is also at a premium in Dane Bille August's adaptation of Pascal Mercier's Swiss bestseller, Night Train to Lisbon. It's barely possible to detect in this lumpen melodrama the respectful polish of The House of the Spirits (1993) and Smilla's Sense of Snow (1997), let alone the cinematic panache that earned Pelle the Conquerer (1987) and The Best Intentions (1991) the Palme d'or at Cannes. In fairness, Greg Latter and Ulrich Herrmann must shoulder some of the blame, as their lifeless screenplay keeps making reference to the dullness of the protagonist. But August fails to inject any pace into the flashbacking proceedings and allows the stellar cast to commit the full gamut of acting sins that made the so-called Europuddings of yore so slickly shambolic.

Classics teacher Raimund Gregorius (Jeremy Irons) is on his way to school in Bern when he sees Catarina Mendez (Sarah Bühlmann) preparing to throw herself off the Kirchenfeld Bridge. Dropping his briefcase, he rushes to her rescue and she accompanies him to class. However, she slips away during the lesson, leaving behind a red coat with a book in the pocket. Intrigued, Gregorius goes to the shop where the tome was purchased and is informed by the owner that it is an obscure memoir by a Portuguese doctor.

As Gregorius leafs through the pages, a ticket drops out for a night train that will depart in 15 minutes. Dashing to the station, Gregorius is frustrated to find no sign of the mysterious stranger. But, on a whim, he decides to board the Lisbon express and spends the journey reading the musings of Amadeu do Prado (Jack Huston), who was a leading opponent of the dictatorial regime of António de Oliveira Salazar, who was toppled by the Carnation Revolution in 1974.

Surprisingly, for such a supposedly intelligent man, Gregorius is deeply moved by the platitudinous aphorisms and checks into a cheap hotel before setting off in search of his quarry. His inquiries soon bring him to the family home, where Antonio's sister, Adriana (Charlotte Rempling), reveals that only 100 copies of the book were printed. She bridles when Gregorius mentions her father (Burghart Klaußner), who had been a well-respected judge, and it is only when the maid shows him out that the visitor learns that Amadeu perished on the very day that Salazar was overthrown.

Returning to the hotel, Gregorius is hit by a cyclist and has to find an optician to get a new pair of glasses. As his vision is being tested, he relates his story to Mariana (Martina Gedeck), whose uncle just happened to have known Amadeu and she accompanies him to the nursing home where João Eça (Tom Courtenay) confides that, as a young man (Marco D'Almeida), he had been in the resistance with Amadeu, as well as his buddy Jorge O'Kelly (August Diehl) and the woman they had both adored, Estefania (Mélanie Laurent).

João suggests that Gregorius looks up Father Bartolomeu (Christopher Lee), who recalls that Amadeu and O'Kelly had been fascinated by political and philsophical writings that had been outlawed by Salazar. He also remembers that Amadeu had offended his father by giving a graduation speech that had denounced the fascistic nature of the regime. But the priest has since lost touch with everyone and cannot provide Gregorius with any more clues. Still more determined to find out more about Amadeu's activities, however, Gregorius pays Adriana a second visit. She remains reluctant to discuss her younger self (Beatriz Batarda), but João proves more forthcoming and reveals that Amadeu had known that he was suffering from a fatal aneurysm and had fallen out with Jorge when he honoured his Hippocratic Oath and performed life-saving surgery on Mendez (Adriano Luz), a brutal Salazar adjunct who was nicknamed `the Butcher of Lisbon'.

Although Amadeu had promised Jorge that he would join the resistance, the rebel had found it hard to forgive his old friend. But the older Jorge (Bruno Ganz) and Estafania (Lena Olin) inform Gregorius that Amadeu had rallied to the cause and had helped his beloved escape to Spain when the revolution broke out. With nearly all of the loose ends neatly tied, Gregorius bumps into Catarina, who explains that she had wanted to kill herself because she had found out in Amadeu's book that her adored grandfather had been the murderous Mendez. But, just as Gregorius is about to entrain back to Bern, Mariana arrives on the platform to persuade him to stay.

There was a time when bloated co-productions would provide the odd guilty pleasure in the late-night television schedules. But, while it sticks rigidly to the formula of having everyone involved in the bafflingly labyrinthine plot deliver their lines in English in a bemusing assortment of accents, this latterday variation lacks any of the charm or curio value that made the continental collaborations of the 1960s and 70s so distinctive. Tom Courtenay and Christopher Lee briefly rouse the action out of its torpor. But Jeremy Irons makes far too convincing a job of playing a dull dog, while too many of his supporting companions seem to be simply going through the motions.

Augusto Mayer and Monika Jacobs ably recreate the furnishings and fashions of the mid-1970s, while Filip Zumbrunn contributes some lovely widescreen views of the White City. But Annette Focks's effusive orchestral score sums up the lack of imagination and finesse that makes this pedestrian picture so disappointingly sterile.