Parky at the Pictures (In Cinemas 1/12/2016)

The plight of an illegal migrant from Gabon dominates The Unknown Girl. But she is merely the MacGuffin that enables the Dardennes to demonstrate the pluck and integrity of a young, white woman doctor, whose guilt at not answering the surgery door after hours could be seen as a symbol for post-colonial remorse. Yet, for all her determination to atone for a dereliction of duty, this coy exercise in naturalist noir lacks the edge and austerity that made the early works so potent, credible and influential.

Doctor Adèle Haenel has spent three months in a surgery in Seraing covering for the hospitalised Yves Larec. She has developed a fondness for intern Olivier Bonnaud, but is aware of his shortcomings during consultations. When he stands aghast, therefore, while tweenager Sabri Ben Moussa convulses on the surgery floor, Haenel ticks him off for allowing his emotions to cloud his judgement. She also prevents him from answering the door when Ange-Déborah Goulehi rings the bell an hour after closing time.

Driving across town, Haenel goes to a reception Fabrizio Rongione is holding in her honour to welcome her to his upmarket practice. While she drinks a toast, however, he phone rings and she answers a call from teenage leukaemia patient, Thomas Doret. He has written Haenel a song with his pal and they sing it to her, as his proud parents look on. Touched by the gesture, Haenel promises to keep Doret as a patient when she takes up her new post.

Arriving at the surgery the next morning, she is greeted by Inspector Ben Hamidou, who asks for the tape from the CCTV camera over the door. She is shocked to hear that a black woman has been found dead on the banks of the River Meuse and, feeling crushed that her selfishness might have cost a life, she repeatedly calls Bonnaud after he fails to report for his shift. She treats Kamil Alisiltanov for a burn on his leg that has become diseased because he is too afraid to go to the hospital in case he is reported as an illegal alien. But she promises him that medics are bound by their oath and would never betray him.

Summoned to the police station, Haenel watches footage of Goulehi banging on her door before running away in panic. On hearing that the body was found with no means of identification, Haenel takes a screen grab for her phone and agrees to ask her patients if they have any information, as she feels responsible that this poor woman a long way from home bled to death from a head wound after falling against a slab of concrete on the quayside. Indeed, she even visits the spot before calling on Bonnaud to see why he failed to come into work.

He is packing in his bedsit because he has realised he is not cut out to be a doctor and plans on returning to his rural village. Haenel tries to apologise and admits that she only stopped him from answering the doorbell because she wanted to show she was in charge. But he refuses to change his mind and she drops into the hospital to inform Larec that she has decided to stay with the practice and would appreciate him recommending her to his patients. He is relieved that the surgery to which he has devoted his life will pass into such good hands and Rongione accepts her resolution with good grace. However, she has second thoughts when a young couple become aggressive after she refuses to provide them with forged sicknotes.

Keen to find out the stranger's name to spare her the ignominy of an unmarked grave, Haenel starts showing the photograph while making house calls. She notices that teenager Louka Minnella's pulse quicken after looking at the image, but he insists he is unable to help. At her next stop, Haenel calls the council when diabetic Jean-Marc Balthazar complains that he can't walk to the shops to buy tokens for his heater. But she can't shake the conviction that Minnella is lying and returns to the flat while his mother is at work to ask him to confide what he knows.

Angry with Hamidou for forgetting to give her details of the funeral, Haenel buys a burial plot to rescue Goulehi from the potter's field. She is also pleased when Minnella feigns indigestion at school to come to the surgery and confess that he saw Goulehi fellating an old man in a camper van on a piece of waste ground. Tracking the vehicle down, Haenel asks owner Olivier Gourmet to show her around. But, when he realises she has no intention of buying it, he loses his temper and drives her out. However, he mentions that Haenel had once treated his mother and she uses this information to find his ageing father in a care home.

Using her status to gain access to Pierre Sumkay, Haenel causes him to experience a mild heart tremor when she asks about his encounter with Goulehi. She helps him to his room and gives him his pills to calm him down. He apologises for Gourmet being so hostile and explains that he runs an illegal garage and didn't want the police sniffing around. Regaining his composure, Sumkay admits that his son finds him a prostitute each month at a cyber café in Liège, but he is prevented from saying more by Gourmet entering the room and threatening to strike Haenel for pestering his father.

Beating a hasty retreat, Haenel goes to the café. Stalling a patient who placed an emergency call, she asks receptionist Nadège Ouedraogo if she knows the girl in the photograph. She also asks a couple of punters before placing a call to Bonnaud to ask if she can visit him in the country. Returning to the surgery with some bedding and cooking equipment, Haenel moves into her office so she can be on site if anyone comes forward with any information. Thus, she is asleep when Minnella's father, Jérémie Renier, drops by on his way to work to tell her that the boy had lied when he claimed to have been with a friend when he saw Sumkay and Goulehi in the camper van.

Venturing into the sticks, Haenel finds Bonnaud logging in the woods. She brings him coffee from his grandmother and she urges him to reconsider resuming his studies. He explains that he had decided to read medicine while still quite young after a doctor had failed to realise that his brutal father had inflicted the bruises on his body. But the sight of Ben Moussa fitting had made him realise that he was putting lives at risk simply to get back at his father and that the time had come to walk away.

Haenel assures him that he has the makings of a fine doctor, but respects his decision. As she drives home, she is forced to pull over by an African thug and his white sidekick, who order her to drop her investigation or face the consequences. She is shaken when her bonnet is caved in with an iron bar, but she still spots Minnella when he whizzes past on the back of his friend's scooter. She follows to an abandoned factory and Minnella pushes her into a deep hole in trying to escape. However, he lowers a piece of metal fencing so she can climb out before fleeing.

That night, Renier and wife Christelle Cornil come to the surgery to order her to leave Minnella alone. They also announce that they plan changing their GP. Shortly afterwards, however, Haenel gets a call from Renier, who has injured his back at work. As she gives him a painkilling injection, she asks if he knew Goulehi and he angrily asks her to hand him his wallet so he can pay and be left in peace.

Haenel also gets a lecture from Hamidou, who has had complaints from informers that her snooping is scaring off their contacts in drug and trafficking gangs. She promises to be more discreet and returns to the surgery to find Renier waiting on the step. He confesses that he had seen Goulehi walking by the river and had stopped to ask what she charged. Aware that Minnella had seen him turn his car round to pursue her, he had tried to strike a deal quickly. But Goulehi had not wanted to go with him and had become agitated when he grabbed her wrists. In running away, however, she had stumbled and banged her head.

Renier insists he thought she had fainted and fled before anyone could spot him. He blames Haenel for refusing to answer the door, as Goulehi had run past the surgery while trying to evade him. Haenel chides him for abandoning Goulehi, as she would have survived if he had called an ambulance. But, as he asks to use the bathroom, she admits that they both share the blame. Sitting alone, Haenel wonders what to do with this information. She is roused by a crash, however, and rushes in to find Renier has broken the shower in trying to hang himself with his belt.

She checks he is okay and hands him her phone so he can call Hamidou and explain that Goulehi's death was an accident. A few days later, Haenel gets a visit from Ouedraogo. She admits that Goulehi was her younger sister and that she allowed her to become an underage prostitute because she was jealous by the way her boyfriend looked at her. Moreover, she concedes that she felt relief when she learned she had been killed. But she now feels ready to grieve for her and Haenel (who had been given the wrong name by the police) tells her about the plot in the cemetery. As she leaves, Haenel helps her next patient down the steps into her office. Despite conveying a professional steel to offset her nagging self-recrimination, Haenel always feels a little young to be playing a doctor with so much responsibility and, as a result, she often seems to be acting a role rather than inhabiting a character. Bonnaud similarly seems to be giving a performance, while the tactic of employing Dardenne dependables like Gourmet and Renier in key supporting parts proves something of a distraction. However, the entire premise is on the specious side, as it's highly unlikely that a sleuthing GP would have more success than the police in finding out the identity of an illegal immigrant. Indeed, letting Hamidou gives Haenel the wrong name feels like the kind of Loachian finger wagging to which the Dardennes have become increasingly susceptible of late.

Plotting issues aside, this offers a plausible insight into the daily routine of a physician in a poorer part of town, with Alain Marcoen's grainy photography and Marie-Hélène Dozo's steadily elliptical editing reinforcing the quotidian feel. Yet the absence of any medical emergencies serves to emphasise the convolutions of a narrative focuses entirely on Haenel's predicament rather than the socio-economic problems facing her patients. It has been pointed out that nothing is revealed about Haenel's private life. But, while this pares down the melodrama, it makes her seem even more like a saint with a stethoscope, devoting herself to patients who have no one else in their corner. Thus, while there's no doubting the Dardennes' compassionate humanism, their 10th feature is disappointingly prosaic and all too neatly resolved.

When it comes to performances by actors with Down Syndrome, two stand out above the rest. Pascal Duquenne excelled alongside Daniel Auteuil in Jaco Van Dormael's The Eighth Day (1996), while Pablo Pineda was touchingly authentic opposite Lola Dueñas in Antonio Naharro and Álvaro Pastor's Yo, También (2009). However, Paula Sage in Alison Peebles's AfterLife (2003), Alejandra Manzo in Marcos Carnevale's Anita (2009), and Connor Long and Bridget Brown in Todd Solondz's Wiener Dog (2016) also made their mark and Steven Brandon is set to join their ranks after his wonderfully natural display in Jane Gull's debut feature, My Feral Heart.

Making light of Down Syndrome, thirtysomething Steven Brandon has been looking after ailing mother Eileen Pollock for several years. Having shaved and dressed himself each morning, he wakes her with tea, toast and a boiled egg before leaving her in her armchair while he pops down to the shops. He cooks at night and doles out pills, as well as helping out at bathtime. Sometimes, as a break from doing jigsaws or watching the television, Brandon will play a record and invite Pollock to dance.

But the morning after Pollock had dozed off over her knitting, Brandon fails to wake her and he calmly goes to the dial landline in the hall and calls for an ambulance. Unfortunately, long before she fell ill, Pollock had made arrangements for Brandon to go into a care home if she died and, even though he is entirely capable of independent living, social worker Kerryann White insists he has no option but to pack a bag and move to Blossom House.

Sitting in silence in the back seat during the car ride into the country, Brandon tries to come to terms with his emotions. But he refuses to respond when carer Shana Swash tries to make conversation as she unpacks his clothes and he surveys his fellow residents with dismay at supper time, as he realises they need round-the-clock care much more than he does.

The next morning, Brandon is frustrated when Swash stops him from exploring the fields and woods surrounding the centre and he spends his day staring out of the window at Will Rastall, who is working in the rundown greenhouse after being given a community service order for sabotaging the local hunt. Rastall's mother, Suzanna Hamilton, comes to collect him at home time, but he declines a lift and regrets his decision when he walks past the shrine at the side of the road that marks the place where his brother was killed in a car crash.

After attending Pollack's funeral with Brandon, Swash agrees to let him go for a walk around the grounds. Pleased to be free, Brandon slips through a hole in the fence and finds a rickety barn full of hay bales. As he wanders back, he sees a dead fox in the grass. He also hears something rustling in the undergrowth and is hurt when he bends down to investigate and gets bitten on the hand.

Cleaning and bandaging the wound without telling Swash, Brandon keeps to himself rather than engaging with his new housemates. Indeed, he prefers washing dishes in the kitchen to dancing or watching television in the lounge. Swash realises that he is finding it hard to settle and allows him to take Rastall a cup of tea. She also agrees to let Brandon help out in the garden. But he exploits her trust to return to the field and the spot where he was bitten. He finds Pixie Le Knot unconscious in the long grass and carries her to the barn, where he tries to make her comfortable.

Ordinarily, we would tell the rest of the story in similar detail. But the producers are keen to let viewers discover what befalls the characters for themselves. So, we shall merely mention a confrontation between Rastall and father Keith Chanter (when he tries to give Brandon some old clothes) and a brush with the local hunt that brings things to a head for both Brandon and Le Knot.

Gull and screenwriter Duncan Paveling leave it to the audience to decide whether Brandon survives his climactic scrape, but few would begrudge him a full recovery, even though the story rather falls apart in the final reel. The major problem is Paveling's determination to cram as many hot-button issues into the scenario as possible. But the hunt sabbing and people trafficking aspects (if Le Knot is a runaway) receive only the most superficial treatment, while too little time is devoted to a social service system that decides that someone as capable as Brandon should be placed in a facility with patients with very different conditions and needs. The subplot involving Rastall and his family also feels tacked on, while Swash's character fails to come alive as she has absolutely no backstory. This problem also makes it hard to share Brandon's concern for Le Knot, although he clearly regards her as a replacement recipient for his affection and practicality after the loss of his mother. So, while this is very much a picture with its heart in the right place, it too often betrays the inexperience of its director in terms of focus and pacing. Moreover, one expected a little more emotional restrain from a composer of Barrington Pheulong's accomplishment, as the score often tugs unashamedly on the heartstrings. But Brandon (who is a member of the Mushroom Theatre Company based in Rayleigh in Essex) is outstanding and, however, we shall see plenty more of him in roles that are not defined by his condition.

The week's other homegrown debut is Sheridan De Myers's The Weekend, a Black British comedy that has more than a little in common with Femi Oyeniran and Darwood Grace's It's a Lot (2013) and Adam Deacon and Daniel Toland's Anuvahood (2011), in which Oyeniran parodied the roles he had taken in Noel Clarke's hard-hitting urban dramas Kidulthood (2006) and Adulthood (2008). Based on an idea by producer Kojo Anim, the star of MTV 2's Wild N Out, and scripted by Davie Fairbanks and Marc Small, this affords Jovian Wade, Dee Kartier and Percelle Ascott a big-screen chance to build on reputations forged on E4's Youngers and their YouTube series, Mandem on the Wall. But this mishmash of clichés, caricatures and chauvinism is unlikely to reach far beyond its target audience.

As the action opens, twentysomethings Joivan Wade, Percelle Ascott and Dee Kaate are seen fleeing from heavies Ashley Inkz and Samson Kayo. In voiceover, however, the buddies disagree over the train of events that put them in peril and Wade takes control to flash us back to Hackney Wick railway station, where he first bumped into Inkz and Kayo on returning home from university. Unaware that he accidentally swapped black leather bags with the man Inkz and Kayo were chasing, Wade accepts a lift home from Ascott, although they take a detour via an underground car park so Ascott can conduct a shady drop that turns out to involve beef rather than the drugs that Wade initially fears.

No sooner has he closed the front door than strict father Leon Herbert is on at Wade to find a job rather than waste his summer hanging with his idiot pals. Mother Marcia Mantack and sister Destinee Anthony know better than to interrupt and he barely has time either to convince eccentric white neighbour David Forest that he has not been in jail or thank girl next door Nadine Mills for the Casio watch she has bought him than he is starting behind the counter at a fast food joint. The manager is far from impressed, however, when Kaate drives away his first customer by slating the menu. But things get worse when Wade tries to flirt with college classmate Shanie Ryan outside the shop and she mocks him in front of her trendy friends for letting a stray dumpling touch her expensive trainers.

Meanwhile, Inkz and Kayo have been ordered by gangster boss Frankie Clarence to retrieve the package inside the missing bag and they discover Wade's address in the morgue of the local hospital, where their quarry from the station had been brought after being run over by a car. Yet, even though they know where Wade lives, they decide against going straight round and leave it until the following morning, by which time Wade (who has the house to himself because his family have gone to visit relatives) has found the box containing £100,000 and Ascott and Kaate (who are still smarting after being denied entry to a party) have persuaded him to spend it rather than turn it over to the police and risk being accused of having stolen it.

Having bought new outfits and been pampered by the models at Natalie Edwards's chic boutique, the boys ditch Ascott's secondhand car for a rented Range Rover and spend £100 each on haircuts while making arrangements to throw the best party the neighbourhood has ever seen so that no one can ever disrespect them again. Unfortunately, street thief Arnold Jorge spots them at the barbershop and sells them out to Inkz and Kayo. But they are too busy ordering £18,000 bottles of wine in a posh restaurant to realise the trouble they are in.

Indeed, they show up to their party without a care in the world, until Wade shows off his new Rolex to Mills, who feels hurt that he has forgotten the watch she bought him. She is even more dismayed when she sees him delight in turning Ryan away from the venue and wonders what has happened to make him change to much so quickly. But Wade's bubble is about to burst, as Inkz and Kayo escort him into the kitchen where Clarence gives him a tight deadline to pay back all the money or face the consequences.

Abandoning the party and returning to find the house has been trashed, Wade despairs of raising the cash in time. But Ascott suggests taking their chance at a casino and they splash out for tuxedos to dabble at roulette before missing out on the pot in a £50,000 game of blackjack. Victor Curtis Walker offers them the chance to make a quick buck on a street race, but they stall the car and end up with nothing.

Back home, Wade gets a phone call from his parents (who are about to go to a church service conducted by deeply sinful pastor Kojo Anim) and he realises time is fast running out. As he tries to think of a solution, Inkz and Kayo break in through the back door and the three friends have to flee (as in the opening scene). But they are easily caught and trussed up so that Clarence can fillet them. As he selects his knife, however, he receives a call from his accountant and Wade (who just happens to be studying offshore banking at college) is able to get Clarence a better deal and he lets the friends go free with a warning to stay in the shallow end in future.

Just as Wade thinks he is home and dry, he is arrested for passing off rat as chicken at the fast food joint. Only when the job centre (which is oddly open on a Sunday) confirms that he is merely an employee is he free to leave. He just has time to patch things up with Mills (and kiss beneath her umbrella) before he gets a five-minute warning from his father with the house still looking like a bomb site. But even that prospect doesn't seem so daunting when a rep from the rental company drops off a floral holdall that had been left in the back of the car and Ascott opens it to find it is full of banknotes.

Played with plenty of pep by its eager leads, this may not be particularly original or funny, but it mostly makes for undemandingly genial entertainment. Despite breaking the mould by focusing on a middle-class black youth, Fairbanks and Small stuff the script with an excess of incidental characters, who slow down an already meandering plot with too little comic payoff. They also have a regrettable tendency to objectify women, with the boutique montage being particularly resistible. But, while De Myers (who also has a clutch of shorts and music videos and a couple of Kojo teleplays to his credit) takes an age to get the caper out of first gear, he warms to his task and ties up the loose ends with a neat precision that teasingly leaves a potentially furious father waiting in the wings to relieve Wade (who will be familiar to some from his recent stint in Eastenders) of his ill-gotten gains to pay for the damage to the house.

On his day, Spike Lee is one of the best directors in America. Thirty years have passed since he burst on to the scene with She's Gotta Have It (1986) and did much to launch New Black Cinema. But, while he has remained justifiably angry at the racist treatment of African-Americans and the internecine issues that divide the community, Lee has struggled to find a suitable vehicle to express his rage since Do the Right Thing (1989), with the likes of Jungle Fever (1991) and Clockers (1995) lacking the control and potency of such documentaries as 4 Little Girls (1997) and When the Levees Broke: A Requiem in Four Acts (2006). But he roars back to form with Chi-Raq, a scathing updating of Aristophanes's 2427-year-old play, Lysistrata, which champions the Black Lives Matter cause, while echoing the anti-chauvinist sentiments of Girl 6 (1996) and the provocative stylistic bravura of Bamboozled (2000).

As the red-captioned lyrics of `Pray 4 My City' fill the black screen, we are informed that `This Is an Emergency', as while there were 2349 American deaths in the Afghan War in 2001 and 4425 in Iraq between 2003-11, 7356 murders were committed in Chicago between 2001-15. The voice of Fr Michael Louis Phleger, from the Faith Community of St Sabina Church (`Chi-raq, Drillinois'). laments that the majority of these killings were black-on-black and that something has to be done to prevent a bloodbath.

In the Englewood district of Chicago's South Side, the sharply dressed chorus Dolmedes (Samuel L. Jackson) stops the chanting crowd at a music venue to explain that the city is in crisis. Rapper Demetrius `Chi-raq' Dupree (Nick Cannon) takes to the stage and delivers a blistering attack on Sean `Cyclops' Andrews (Wesley Snipes), the leader of the detested orange-clad Trojan gang that opposes Chi-raq's purple-wearing Spartans. As the fans dance to the beat and cheer lyrics that pop up on the screen in Tweet-like captions, a gunman opens fire and leaves bodies on the dance floor as the screaming audience flees.

After the show, Chi-raq goes back to the apartment of girlfriend Lysistrata (Teyonah Parris), who is teasing him that she wants romance before he gets to sleep with her when a Trojan gang member knocks out the Spartan on watch duty and launches an arson attack on the property. Chi-raq comes out all guns blazing, but the incident incurs the wrath of neighbour Miss Helen Worthy (Angela Bassett), who warns Lysistrata that things need to change.

The next morning, as Lysistrata sashays along the street, Dolmedes sings her praises and compares her to the characters Pam Grier played in Coffy (1973) and Foxy Brown (1974). But the mood changes when Lysistrata arrives at a drive-by murder scene and Irene (Jennifer Hudson) vows that Chi-raq will pay for the loss of her 11 year-old daughter, as she is led away by Fr.Mike Corridan (John Cusack). Lysistrata discusses the killing when she moves in with Miss Helen, who insists that something must be done to make Chi-raq and Cyclops see sense.

While Irene scrubs the blood off the road, Lysistrata googles Leymah Gbowee, the Nobel Peace Prize laureate who sought to heal Muslim-Christian rifts in Liberia by imposing a sex strike. Suitably impressed, she summons friends Rasheeda (Anya Engel-Adams), Marcy (Ebony Joy) and Tee-Tee (Eryn Allen Kane) to attend a meeting with Cyclopss girlfriend, Indigo (Michelle Mitchenor), and her posse, Hecuba (La La Anthony), Dania (Felicia Pearson) and Kenya (Yaneisha Franklin). At first, they are sceptical and less than enamoured about having to be abstinent. But they agree their macho men might just respond to a little conjugal blackmail and they sign up to the scheme.

Chi-raq and Cyclops first realise something is wrong when Lysistrata and Indigo refuse to be pawed as they serve supper, while Cyclops is appalled when Morris (Dave Chappelle) informs him that all the pole-dancers have cried-off from his club. But everyone comes together for the funeral of Irene's daughter, where a gospel dance number is followed by Fr Mike preaching against politicians in the pocket of the National Rifle Association and a system in which young blacks are driven into a violent underground economy by poor schooling, unemployment and poverty.

Yet, while he declares mass incarceration to be the new Jim Crow means of keeping African-Americans in their place, Fr Mike also denounces black men driven by ego and greed who kill without conscience and get away with it because the community is too scared to speak out against them. He declares each life to be as grievous a loss as Martin Luther King and Malcolm X and puts up a $5000 reward for information about the shooting, as the congregation shouts out its support for ending this `self-inflicted genocide' before escorting the tiny coffin to the waiting hearse.

When Fr Mike warns Lysistrata that their crusade is bold, but risky, she takes it upon herself to storm the local armoury and make a fool of General King Kong (David Patrick Kelly) by stripping him to his Confederate flag boxers and making him mount the barrel of a Civil War cannon nicknamed `Whistling Dick'. As reinforcements are called in, Dolmedes proclaims that the gangs and the cops are as bad as each other and, to prove the point, armed representatives standing either side of him open fire on the camera. A firmer believer in the power of books and education, Miss Helen calls Olympia (Jackie Taylor), Althea (Gina Breedlove) and Sugar Pie (Erica Watson) to convince them of the need to uphold the protest. She is backed by Dr Aesop (Irma P. Hall), who says that being chaste is a small price to pay for keeping kids safe. Across the city, however, Miss Helen's former lover, Old Duke (Steve Harris), is chairing a meeting of his lodge and agreeing with Dr Aesop (Anthony Chisholm), Apollo (Thomas Jefferson Byrd) and Oedipus (Wade F. Wilson) - who does everything his mother tells him - that they need to reclaim their manhood.

The two groups stand off against each other outside the armoury, as Commissioner Blades (Harry Lennix) arrives with back-up and Commissioner Blades (Harry Lennix) calls Mayor McCloud (DB Sweeney) to let him know that he has a plan to remove Lysistrata and her sisters. However, they have no intention of leaving and don chastity belts to show they mean business, as the TV news carries footage of similar demonstrations taking place around the world.

While Miss Helen works in her garden, an insurance salesman (Roger Grosvenor Smith) asks if she has considered taking out a policy on her 17 year-old nephew and she drives him away for daring to make money on misery. As she thumbs through a scrapbook full of cuttings about the loss of her own child, Irene and Fr Mike pass out flyers in the hope of unearthing a clue about the killing. Moreover, while Blades argues with Lysistrata about the validity of their campaign, Chi-Raq cheats on her with Hecuba and tells her about seeing his mother with other men after his father was killed.

As Irene and Fr Mike lead a peaceful protest through the city and a gun amnesty is arranged among the gangs, Blade and Police Chief Riptide (Anthony Fitzpatrick) launch Operation Hot and Bothered to force the women to surrender. But those barricaded in the armoury gym seem unconcerned and do a dance routine to the Chi-Lites track `Oh Girl' that is mirrored by their menfolk outside, as the other protesters sway their signs and the riot police wave their nightsticks in the air to the slow rhythm. One of the soldiers gets turned on by the music and has to be carried away on a stretcher and Dolmedes jokes that people are getting skittish after three months without sex.

However, he also brings on the two Trojan gunmen who attacked Chi-raq's gig and they describe the extent of the gunshot injuries that left one in a wheelchair and the other bedridden. Dolmedes shrugs to ask if gang warfare is worth such suffering. Some of Cyclops's underlings have had enough and are missing their women. But Duke refuses to give in so meekly and gets keys made to unlock the chastity belts. He dupes Rasheeda into letting his Knights of Euphrates friends in through the back door of the armoury and struts into the gymnasium where the women are sleeping. However, Lysistrata confronts him and slaps his face when he disrespects her. She chides him for failing to see the true meaning of the protest and Oedipus advises him to withdraw, as he seems unable to see the bigger picture.

With the unrest spreading to other countries, the mayor gets a call from the president to sort things out so that his wife will start sleeping with him again. McCloud orders Blades to negotiate a truce so he can resume his own kinky pharaoh games with his wife. But Chi-raq has nothing but scorn for Fr Mike when he comes to his crib to urge him to swear off violence and allow life to return to normal. He scoffs at the priest's earnestness and his insistence that black gun crime makes it easier for the white establishment to oppress them. He tosses some notes on the table to contribute and swaggers outside. But he has a vision of scantily clad women pouting enticingly alongside grieving mothers in hijabs holding pictures of their dead offspring.

Before he can work out what it means, however, Chi-raq is invited into a police car by Blades and is driven to the armoury. He is told to strike a deal with Lysistrata and she accepts his sex challenge, in which the loser is the first to orgasm. A large brass bed is brought into the gym, along with a video feed so that Lysistrata and Ch-raq's supporters can watch the showdown for themselves. They circle the bed and taunt each other about how long it has been. Each wants to surrender, but both want to win. But, as they shout for the lights to be dimmed, Cyclops interrupts their love making to announce that he is renouncing violence and is ashamed of Chi-raq for being such a macho buffoon.

Everyone gathers in the gym to applaud the size of the voluntary weapons haul and to sign a peace accord that will lead to new amenities and guaranteed jobs for all. But, while everyone else is dressed in white, Chi-raq sports a Spartan purple t-shirt and he is about to leave after refusing to sign the treaty when the mothers of the hood victims block his path. Irene implores him to see sense, while Miss Helen informs him that when her daughter was killed by a stray bullet while skipping, the shooter came to apologise in person and turned himself into the police for violating the gang code. That man was Chi-raq's father and Miss Helen urges him to show the same nobility.

Chi-raq turns to Irene and falls to his knees in begging forgiveness. As he is led away by Blades, he exhorts the guilty to confess to their crimes and face the truth. Fr Mike assures Lysistrata that he will be able to look after himself and hopes this is the start of a new beginning. As the film ends, Dolmedes commends Lysistrata for her efforts and, as the giant Stars and Stripes is replaced by the flag of Chicago, he warns America to wake up before it's too late.

There's no escaping the fact that this is a deeply flawed piece of agit-prop. The storyline meanders, the message is often ham-fistedly socked over and far too many secondary characters are ciphers who merely bulk up an already sizeable ensemble. We could easily have done without the mayor, while the Knights of Eurphrates are as negligible as the members of Chi-raq and Cyclops's gangs. Even the women supporting Lysistrata and Miss Helen are thinly drawn. But, en masse, they make a formidable force, as they chant the `No Peace, No P***y' slogan that becomes an international anthem (except in Pakistan, where the crude slang used so ignominiously by Donald Trump is replaced by the gentler term, `Loving').

The leads make more of an impression, with Nick Cannon seething with an alpha ferocity that can only be rooted in ingrained misanthropy, as no reason is given for the Peloponnesian enmity between these particular Spartans and Trojans. Cackling feyly, Wesley Snipes is less combustible, although Steve Harris has a misogynist streak that makes one wonder why the ever-excellent Angela Bassett had anything to do with him. But the same could be said of Teyonah Parris, who seems far too good for the preening Cannon. However, the most intriguing performances come from seasoned actors in roles that don't quite work. Samuel L. Jackson has a ball as the chorus, but his dialogue is never as sharp as his threads, while John Cusack's cleric delivers his politically loaded lectures and his homilies in a street argot that consistently rings hollow.

Indeed, Lee and fellow writer Kevin Willmott often strain for effect when pushing the more didactic socio-cultural content. They also come unstuck with the more contrived comic set-pieces and with some of the bawdier sexual innuendo, which is often ungallantly blunt. But their bid to slam rhyme the dialogue is extremely laudable. Moreover, it gives them a ready made excuse for the more theatrical moments. But Lee has clearly been mugging up on old movie classics, as the references to Robert Wise and Jerome Robbins's West Side Story (1961), Stanley Kubrick's Dr Strangelove (1964) and Franklin J. Schaffner's Patton (1970) are neatly realised by production designer Alex DiGerlando, cinematographer Matthew Libatique and costumer Ruth F. Carter. Quite whether this audacious musical satire will be as fondly remembered in years to come is debatable. But Chi-raq captures a decisive moment in African-American history and it remains to see which course it takes under a potentially unsympathetic administration.

Russian pop singer Dima Bilan makes his acting debut with an ambitious dual role in Yuri Vasilev's The Heritage of Love. Scripted by Natalia Doroshkevich and Olga Pogodina-Kuzmina and based on a true story, this is an old-fashioned romance across the decades that makes the most of its settings in St Petersburg and Paris without ever capturing the imagination. The story opens in the province of St Petersburg in 1914, as the Duke of Chernisheva (Vladislav Vetrov) arrives home with the first Russian motor car, a Russo-Balt. Daughters Irina (Jurgita Jurkute) and Vera (Svetlana Ivanova) are much more impressed by their mother (Tatiana Lyutaeva), as they pose for a family photograph. But they scarcely have time to enjoy it, as the assassination of the Archduke Franz Ferdinand sparks the outbreak of the Great War and many of the local noblemen are called to the colours.

While relaxing beside a lake, Baron Ivan Karlovich von Lieven (Marat Basharov) bets Repnin (Aleksandr Golovin) that he can shoot an apple off the head of his servant Yefim (Viktor Nemets). However, he is stopped in the act of shooting by Andrei Dolmatov (Dima Bilan), who disapproves of such reckless sport, especially as Von Lieven is drunk. Furious at being thwarted, the Baron has to be held back from striking Dolmatov, who rides off on his horse.

However, he nearly collides with Vera, who has been watching from the woods. She is immediately smitten and delighted to see Domatov at a ball for the troops. Her sister, however, is more interested in Tereshchenko (Aleksandr Baluev), a self-made merchant whose fabulous wealth would enable her to remain in the lap of luxury. But, as he confides to the duke, he is hopeful that the forthcoming war will result in Tsar Nicholas II being forced to make reforms that will favour the bourgeoisie.

Fearing that Von Lieven is going to challenge Dolmatov to a duel, Vera persuades her godmother Nadezhda (Larisa Kalpokaite) to intervene in their discussion and Von Lieven offers his hand in gratitude for Dolmatov sparing him a mishap. Dolmatov accepts and dances with Vera, lifting her off the floor during a waltz, as soft sunlight pours through the ballroom windows.

A century on, Russian mechanic Andrei Kulikov (also Bilan) is approached by a vintage car collector (also Baluev) to travel to Paris and track down a rare Russo-Balt that he is hoping to buy for below the market price. Hoping to secure a commission to set himself up in business, Andrei accepts and nearly gets hit by a plant pot dropped from her Montmartre window box by Vera Yezerskaya (also Ivanova), who is looking for her lost dog. He retrieves the wandering pet and is pleased to note that his hotel room looks on to Vera's apartment. Moreover, while waiting to meet intermediary Lev Chij (Aleksandr Adabashian) at the Russian cemetery at Sainte-Geneviève-des-Bois, Andrei notices a headstone bearing an image that closely resembles Vera.

Chij arrives to introduce Andrei to Yelizaveta (Lilita Ozolina), who is selling the car. She keeps it under a dusty tarpaulin in a garage and explains that she needs to sell quickly. However, Andrei is surprised by the poor condition of the Russo-Balt and asks for some time to check it over. Back in his room, he hopes to catch sight of Vera. But we flashback instead to Eastern Prussia in 1916, as Dolmatov writes to Vera, who has become a nurse. However, it is not long before Russia is in the grips of a revolution and Tereshchenko has become a prominent figure in Petrograd. Nevertheless, Irina rejects his gift of jewellery, as she wants nothing to do with those who have betrayed the monarchy.

The duke collapses on receiving the news of the Tsar's abdication and Vera confides her fears to Dolmatov. But, just as they lock themselves in her room at the field hospital, they learn that Repnin has died of his wounds. Meanwhile, the family estate is looted and vandalised and Von Lieven and Irina stand together to dismiss Tereshchenko's confident prediction that the country's future history will be written by people like him. They kiss more out of apprehension than passion, as it is clear the olden days are about to disappear.

As he walks through the streets in his uniform, Dolmatov prevents a merchant from being mugged and his daughter Maria (Yulia Peresild) is instantly taken with the dashing soldier. Back in the present, Andrei also prevents a robbery, when he urges Yelizaveta not to sell the car to the collector, as she could make much more at auction and start restoring her family estate as a tourist attraction back in Russia. Clij supports Andrei and the collector leaves vowing to make them both pay for double-crossing him.

En route to the airport, however, Andrei spots Vera from Clijs car and jumps out to find her. Curiously, the owner of the apartment in which she had been staying has no idea who she is and, unaware that she is also looking for him, Andrei returns to Russia to find that he has lost his job because the collector has bought the garage. As he packs his belongings, he sees a photo of Maria and we travel back to the village of Ust-Labinskaya near Kuban in February 1918. She watches a firing squad preparing to shoot some enemies of the Bolshevik regime. But the soldier aiming at Dolmatov remembers a past act of kindness and grazes his temple with the bullet and stabs into the soil of the mass grave rather than bayonet him to death.

A grateful Maria nurses Dolmatov back to health and explains how her family were killed by the Reds. She hopes they can start again in the Crimea and sleeps with Dolmatov after he regains his strength. But he mutters Vera's name in his sleep and insists on leaving to find her as soon as he is well. He joins the White Army and boards a train in the village of Yegorlukskaya that is carrying Tereshchenko, Irina and her mother to Paris. They admit to having lost contact with Vera and he spurns Tereshchenko's offer to go into exile in order to locate her. But, as he ushers a group of prostitutes on to the train and orders Tereshchenko to look after them, he spots Vera helping wounded soldiers into a carriage and entrusts her to Tereshchenko with the promise that he will find her in Paris.

A century later, Andrei returns the restored Russo-Balt to mint condition and brings it to the Chernisheva, where Yelizaveta is about to open her museum. He confesses to a sense of déjà vu on seeing the house and tells her about the facial similarity between the two Veras. Clij reveals that Yelizaveta is the daughter of Von Lieven and she takes Andrei for a walk in the garden to tell him about the events surrounding the so-called `Ice March' campaign in Kuban during the Civil War.

While struggling across marshland in abysmal weather conditions, Dolmatov and Von Lieven meet up again outside the village of Novo-Dmitrovskaya. They embrace warmly, but are interrupted when some captured spies are brought before General Kornilov (Mikolas Vildjunas). He orders one of the prisoners to cross the river to see if it is safe to cross, but he lures them into an ambush and Dolmatov is shot protecting Von Lieven from a sniper. As he dies, he asks his friend to deliver a letter to Vera in Paris and he agrees.

He arrives in the French capital three years later, only to discover that Vera has died. However, Irina has just walked out on Tereshchenko because she cannot bring herself to marry him and he shoots himself when he sees her reunite with Von Lieven outside his front door. As she finishes her story, Yelizaveta gives Andrei the letter that Dolmatov sent to her aunt. He starts to read it and shelters under a tree as it starts to rain. While the ghosts of Dolmatov and his lost love meet in soft focus, Vera rushes under the branches to keep dry, unaware that Andrei is right behind her.

Anyone who reads or watches films will be used to the notion of fact being stranger than fiction. But, with Eduard Artemev's orchestral score swelling with each new twist of fate, Vasiliev makes little effort to tone down the melodramatic nature of a saga that often feels like it has escaped from the pages of a romantic novelette. The cast does its best, with the abrasive Baluev and the haughty Jurkute sparring admirably. But the handsome Bilan struggles to convince in a demanding role, while Ivanova's characters are too thinly sketched to make much of an impression.

Vasiliev is well served by cinematographer Ramunas Greicius, production designer Jurgita Gerdvilaite and costumers Gulnara Shakhmilova and Rasa Taujanskiene. Moreover, he stages some of the larger scale scenes during the Revolution and the Civil War with a suitable sense of spectacle. But he never solves the problems posed by a script that is more interested in making the pieces fit than exploring a tumultuous period of Russian history and its impact on the people who lived through it.

A couple of weeks ago, the producers of Generation Revolution asked through their publicist for the surnames of the activists depicted in their documentary to be removed from the Parky at the Pictures review in order to avoid easy identification. This week, the debuting Daisy-May Hudson has made a similar request through her PR agency to retain the anonymity of her mother and younger sister in print, even though they are the named and principal focus of her actuality, Half Way. It seems rather odd for film-makers to be allowed to determine the rules by which their work is discussed and critiqued, especially when they and their subjects have chosen freely to present aspects of their lives on screen for public scrutiny and edification. But, such is the nobility of Hudson's bid to expose the emotional stresses involved in being homeless that keeping mum (and sister) about a couple of first names is a small price to pay.

Daisy-May Hudson's mother could barely contain her pride on the day in June 2013 when her 21 year-old daughter collected her first-class degree in English and Drama from Manchester University. Yet, on the train journey back to Essex, she is acutely aware that she has to move her children out of the home they have leased from Tesco for the past 13 years and register them as homeless. The supermarket chain's decision to redevelop the area around Regent Road appears both sudden and callous, as the Hudsons (who had seemingly been on a council waiting list for some time) were given little time to find alternative accommodation.

Unable to afford private rental fees, they accept a two-room unit at Norway House in North Weald and Daisy-May announces that she is going to film their experiences as a means of wresting back some control over their situation. While packing up their belongings to go into storage, On 30 June, Mum confides to the camera that she is glad to be leaving a place that no longer feels like home and remains hopeful they will find somewhere quickly. But she is concerned that her younger daughter has started sleeping with her comfort toys again, as she finds the prospect of having nowhere to live embarrassing and has opted against telling her classmates what is happening.

Yet, two days after moving (10 July), the 13 year-old claims to be enjoying the adventure of sleeping in one room with her mother and sister, while their essential belongings are stacked next door. She chats happily in the bath, while Daisy-May explains that she is recording events to reveal the realities of having to live in a hostel and to show how strong they are as a family. Mum is less buoyant, however, as she keenly feels the indignity of having nowhere to call home and believes she has let her kids down for the first time she got divorced. But, she hopes things will improve, as she has been to see the council to get them rehoused somewhere closer to her daughter's school and her own workplace.

Six weeks into their ordeal, the Hudsons move into Hemnall House on 19 August. This facility affords them their own flatlet, with a kitchen, sitting-room and three bedrooms. It's a marked improvement on their previous lodging, although mum is less than enamoured by the surfeit of CCTV cameras around the grounds and is concerned by the lack of lighting in the area abutting some woodland. She brandishes the baseball bat she has started keeping beside the bed and makes light of the situation when her parents arrive with a small table. As living with them is clearly not an option, Mrs Hudson resigns herself to dealing with the indifference of the site staff. But, with her youngest complaining that she has started picking fights because she is scared to be in the flat alone, mum admits that the strain is beginning to impact on her and Daisy-May captures her growing sense of frustration as she tries to curtain off her bedroom window to give her a little more privacy. September sees mum's spirits dip further, as she has problems both getting a light bulb replaced in the bathroom and having her mail forwarded. She finds it insulting that the council that deposited her in Hemnall House sends letters about her case elsewhere and complains that an impersonal response to her request for a status update confirms that nobody in authority cares about what happens to them. Daisy-May films her in extreme close-up as she eats to emphasise her inability to relax and notes the tears in her eyes after she asks if her mum has a safe place in which she can retreat to deal with her feelings. Feeling as though she is failing as a mother, she wishes someone would impose a deadline so she could start to set goals. But, being left in limbo leaves her feeling powerless and inadequate.

By the time Daisy-May resumes the story on her sister's birthday on 27 November, tensions within the flat have mounted to the extent that mum and her youngest are squabbling about everything from going to bed with wet hair to fly spray and saying goodnight with insufficient affection. Sniffling in the darkness, the sister fears that they are growing apart and mum feels it is unfair that she is being punished without having done anything wrong. But they manage to have a good time over Christmas, as they housesit for friends and relish the space to spread out and relax as much as the seasonal cheer.

Any benefit the family might have gleaned from their brief return to normality is quickly undone, however, when the council informs them that they are being relocated to Chigwell with immediate effect. Mum goes to see the flat and is dismayed by both its condition and location in what she perceives to be a dodgy area. Despite Daisy-May reading online that it would be better to accept and apply for an upgrade, mum opts to reject the offer and fight an eviction order from Hanwell House. They draft a letter about the distance the sister will have to travel to school and mum's reluctance to transfer her at such a crucial time in her education, but the housing officer warns them that the council would be within its rights to leave them to their own devices if their appeal is unsuccessful.

Despite resenting such intimidatory tactics, mum stands by her risky decision, even though she is distressed by the fact that the crisis is causing her youngest to grow up too fast. She has started staying with friends whenever she can. But she tries to lighten the mood by emerging from the bathroom with bits of paper sticking to her face and puts on a stern voice to ask `how do you feel at this moment in time' in order to lampoon her sister's earnest questioning style.

Such moments of levity are rare, however, and Mrs Hudson is crushed to learn on 4 March that the council has turned down her appeal and dismisses any suggestion that moving to Chigwell will have a negative effect upon her family's mental health. A tearful Daisy-May denounces such high-handed disdain, as they agree not to tell her sister the whole story. Unsurprisingly, she resents being treated like a child (although she calms down on being promised a pancake) and gloom descends upon the flat until mum finds a government document online recommending that people should be rehoused as close to their previous address as possible to enable them to remain within a familiar environment. Armed with this revelation, she seeks legal advice on challenging the ruling and trusts that the council will not be able to evict them once the 21-day appeal window has lapsed.

Eight weeks pass, as the bureaucratic cogs turn interminably slowly. Daisy-May admits that she is using the film as a coping mechanism and keeps trying to block out her feelings in order to stay positive. Her sister concurs, but concedes that she is enjoying having fewer limitations and getting to spend time with her friends. Yet she continues to withhold the truth from them, even after a male classmate had joked that he feels as though he is living in a council flat after moving into a three-storey house.

As the siblings chat, mum receives news that the lawyer thinks she has a good case and that legal aid has been granted to help her pursue it through the courts. She finally feels as though someone is in her corner and longs to be out of a system that seems utterly indifferent to the fate and feelings of those trapped within it. She is also looking forward to a conversation that doesn't revolve around her housing situation, as she finds it hard when well-meaning colleagues ask why she doesn't just rent somewhere and have done with it.

On 23 May, however, the council backs down to avoid going to court and mum is furious that she has been denied the opportunity to expose their lack of compassion and protest at the fact that no one will be held accountable for treating her like dirt. A fortnight later, she is shocked to see that the lawyer has put in an itemised claim for £15,000 for handling her appeal and feels that the money could have been much better spent on making the housing system work properly.

After 50 weeks of being homeless, the Hudsons are given details of their new abode. Looking like the weight of the world has been taken off her shoulders, mum tidies the flat and admits that it had started to feel like home. But she can't wait to collect her daughter from her exchange visit to France and show her the house on a respectable estate in Waltham Abbey. They hug on the pavement as they realise that not only is their nightmare over, but they have also fallen on their feet in being awarded such a nice place. Mum is simply happy to be back in control of her own destiny and hopes they can all move on with their lives.

Settling in obviously takes priority, as Daisy-May lets 16 weeks elapse before she signs off on 18 October 2014. Mum insists she has discarded the emotional baggage, but still feels guilty at having to distance herself from her daughters in order to stay strong enough to fight for their welfare. She says she won't look at homeless people in the same way again, as it's not just drink or drug problems that can result in people being pushed into the margins. But, while she is able to take some positives out of the experience, her youngest daughter confesses that she has learned how to hide things from friends and put on a false front in order to protect herself.

This is a depressing lesson for a 14 year-old to take, but at least she reveals something of herself on camera, as does her long-suffering mother. But, apart from the odd off-screen interjection, Daisy-May pretty much keeps to herself and her decision not to be a visible presence sometimes derails her bid to show the Hudsons maintaining a united force against the world. She might appear frequently in the remaining 250-odd hours of footage she shot and is clearly entitled to hold back details about her activities outside the family circle. But, by staying in the shadows, she places undue onus on her mother and sister and deprives the audience of the chance to gauge her personal response to events that touch them all.

Given her avowed intention to present an `all for one' approach, this seems like a miscalculation and makes the insistence on withholding her mother and sister's names outside of the film all the more perverse, as they are very much its focus. It might also have been interesting to see how the Hudsons interacted with some of their neighbours or what steps the girls' father (who is mentioned a couple of times, along with his new partner) took to alleviate their misery. Moreover, it might have been instructive to see a little exasperation at having to cope with each adverse developments under the incessant gaze of a lens. But Daisy-May and editor Vera Simmonds evidently decided to dispense with backstories and retain a tight focus on the grievances and setbacks that dictated the family's existence for almost a year. These qualms aside, this is a powerful reminder of the kind of problems faced by another 112,067 people in England in 2013. As the closing caption states, the homeless number continues to rise and one suspects that many ensnared in a deeply flawed system could tell more harrowing tales than the Hudsons, who appear not to have been exactly destitute while in Henmall House. But this often intelligently photographed piece of taboo-shattering domestic reportage seeks to make its larger political points through the intimate depiction of one family's response to being let down by faceless civil servants who are content to tick boxes and pick up their pay packets rather than actively empathising with the unfortunates whose lives they can transform with the click of a mouse. One can but hope that someone with influence will take note of this heartfelt, raw and laudably courageous study and do something to address a housing crisis that should shame the nation.