Parky at the Pictures (In Cinemas 9/10/2014)

You should also check out the customary coverage of the London Film Festival that will appear on the Parky at the Pictures pages over the next 12 days. Sadly, there is so much to discuss in the 58th edition of the UK's biggest film festival that there won't be a DVD column for the next fortnight. Sorry about that, folks. That's the trouble with only having one pair of hands and a frustrating daily need to sleep.

Few people did more to revolutionise children's television than Gerry Anderson. He was notoriously reluctant to share the credit and even tried to airbrush his former wife Sylvia out of the story of his success. But, as Stephen La Rivière reveals in Filmed in Supermarionation, AP Films was very much a collaborative enterprise and several old hands share their memories with Anderson's son Jamie in a documentary that will prove irresistible to anyone for whom the opening notes of a Barry Gray theme meant instant transportation from the mundanities of a 1960s childhood into an escapist neverland populated entirely by intrepid puppets.

La Rivière and Anderson fils are assisted in chronicling the story by Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward (Sylvia Anderson) and her Cockney butler-cum-chauffeur Aloysius Parker (David Graham), who is asked if he is having an existential crisis when his employer catches him reading La Rivière's book on Supermarionation. He reassures her that his faculties are all in perfect working order and explains how the adventure started when Gerry Anderson teamed with Arthur Provis, Reg Hill and John Read to form Pentagon Films in the mid-1950s to do animation work for commercials.

Among the first assignments was a 30-second slot for Ricicles starring Enid Byton's Noddy character, which suitably emboldened the Pentagon crew to produce their own puppet film, Here Comes Kandy (1956). Although it was barely seen, this short about a cuddly koala prompted author Roberta Leigh to ask Anderson if he could base a series on her books about a doll with the ability to extend his arms and legs. He was surprised when she presented him with scripts for 52 shows running 15 minutes each . But he was astounded when she insisted on using puppets and Provis remembers how Anderson was so ambitious that he accepted the commission even though he had none of the requisite skills. Nevertheless, the first episode of The Adventures of Twizzle was broadcast on 13 November 1957 and Leigh was sufficiently impressed to collaborate with Anderson on Torchy the Battery Boy, which ran for another 52 episodes over two years.

Anderson had no intention of becoming a puppet master. He simply wished to get his foot in the door at the new commercial station. But, when Provis left to work with Leigh on Space Patrol, Anderson and second wife Sylvia Thamm retained control of AP Films, which was now based at Islet Park, a stately home outside Maidenhead. James Anderson returns Berkshire with directors David Elliott and Desmond Saunders and puppeteers Mary Turner, Roger Woodburn and Judith Shutt, who recall how Anderson invented the Dexion Bridge to enable them to tower over the action taking place on the lovingly created sets. Such was the workload that many had their own rooms at the house. But the effort was well worthwhile, especially when inspiration combined with luck in one episode to produce the special effects to launch a rocket. Jill Freud also remembers Kenneth Connor slipping double entendres into the dialogue during dubbing, while Anderson himself created a Torchy character called Bossy Boots, who bore a striking resemblance to the dictatorial Roberta Leigh.

The pilot episode of the cowboy series Four Feather Falls was also made at Islet. But it soon became clear that purpose-built premises were needed in order to keep to the tight production schedule. Lady Penelope and Parker appear on a monochrome Western set and Nicholas Parsons and ex-wife Denise Bryer look back on voicing Tex Tucker and Ma Jones, while Connor contributed Rocky the horse and Dusty the dog. Crooner Michael Holliday was hired to record the theme tune and it became a chart hit. Woodburn reflects on the camaraderie among the crew and some charming colour footage shows everyone on the set with their puppets.

This was the first show to utilise Supermarionation and Parker summons Brains (Graham again) to explain how it works. He unravels the word into its constituent parts - super marionette animation - and describes the unique contribution made by glass fibre heads and electronic synchronisation devices that gave the impression a puppet's mouth was moving in time to the dialogue. Woodburn recalls the teething problems they had with vocal timbres affecting the pulse mechanism, but it worked well enough on all 39 episodes of Four Feather Falls.

However, the bosses at Granada called time on Tex and his pals in 1960 and Anderson confided in Frank Green that AP Films would go bust unless a new series was commissioned soon. The company was now based at a small factory on a trading estate on Ipswich Road in Slough and Jamie and the old gang pay a return visit and discuss how the extra space enabled them to work on bigger sets that allowed for reverse camera angles. It certainly came in useful during the production of Supercar, although the show was nearly cancelled before it began, as Lew Grade at ATV couldn't justify spending £3000 on each episode and Anderson had to cut the tea budget to conclude the deal (although he nearly blew his big break again when he asked for a letter of intent to help secure loans and Grade was furious that anyone would doubt his word).

Patented by Rudolph Popkiss and Horatio Beaker and piloted by Mike Mercury, Supercar was stationed in the Nevada Desert and was capable of flying through the air and submerging like a submarine. Co-creator Hugh Woodhouse reveals that the emphasis on action meant there was little dialogue in the early episodes and sidekicks Jimmy Gibson (who was voiced by Sylvia) and Mitch the monkey were added along with Dr Beaker and Masterspy to make the storylines more rounded. In order to make the aerial sequences look more authentic, cameraman John Read was sent up to 12,000 feet in a twin-engine plane to ofilm cloud and ground footage. However, he soon experienced difficulty breathing, as he only had one lung and only just survived the ordeal, as there was no oxygen aboard and the pilot couldn't make a rapid descent because the engineer had a cold and his eardrums would have burst.

Anderson was grateful that the bulk of the action took place in the eponymous vehicle, as it saved him the trouble of solving the problem of credible perambulation. A jokey montage shows puppets bouncing or shuffling across sets rather than walking and directors Saunders and Elliott concur that it was sometimes difficult to make the characters appear lifelike. Puppet maker John Blundall joins with Woodburn and fellow puppeteer Christine Glanville in lamenting how the figures often swayed on their six-foot strings and it was decided to shoot as many scenes as possible from the waist up. Sylvia's daughter Dee Anderson recalls spraying the strings to make them `invisible', while Saunders, designer Keith Wilson and lighting cameraman Julien Lugrin sigh over the hours spent preparing takes that lasted for a matter of seconds.

Saunders also cheekily reveals that he once got into trouble by ensuring that some of the male puppets were all man. But AP Films was a happy place to be in 1961 and a series of clips show the problems the team had making Supercar sink beneath the `waves' of its water tank and it is conceded that the odd jump cut was used to make its plunges more convincing. Yet, Gerry could make enemies and those who crossed him were soon dismissed. Editor-director David Lane says he was a very driven man and bore the scars of a tough upbringing and some traumatic experiences in the wartime RAF. By contrast, Sylvia was the company agony aunt, who also had a considerable say in the costuming of the puppets and their merchandising. Gerry might have been the ideas man, but Sylvia was crucial to his success and they were very much a team.

As Parker sings the Supercar theme, Lady Penelope urges him to get on with the story, which takes a new turn in 1962 when Lew Grade demanded a more ambitious show that would reflect the growing interest in the space race. Anderson had heard of rockets that could take off like aircraft and SFX director Brian Johnson remembers the endless meetings discussing how the ship belonging to World Space Patrol would blast off. Once again, Gray provided the theme for Fireball XL5, which turned around the 2062 exploits of Steve Zodiac and Venus and their back-up boffin, the garrulous Professor Matic, and his faithful robot, Robert. Blundall revelled in the freedom to create alien adversaries and shows off a fish creature and a plant man. This ingenuity caught the eye of NBC and this became the first Anderson show to screen in the United States.

In 1963, Grade acquired AP Films, but wisely left Anderson in charge. He immediately relocated the company to new premises at Stirling Road that Lane confirms allowed for greater experimentation. The following year, having been impressed by the productions he had seen at the New York World's Fair, Anderson announced that Stingray would be filmed in colour. Camera operator Alan Petty remembers along with Shutt and Turner that Anderson spent months exploring which colours worked well, as the verdict of the NBC audiences would make or break the show, which was transmitted in monochrome in Britain from October 1964.

The plots usually centred on the efforts of the evil Triton to sabotage Marineville, which was defended by Commander Shore. In addition to control crew members Atlanta Shore (the boss's daughter) and John Horatio Fisher, the other key members of the World Aquanaut Security Patrol were submariners Troy Tempest and George Lee `Phones' Sheridan. But, perhaps the most intriguing character was a mute mermaid, who provided the inspiration for Gray's theme song, `Aqua Marina', which became a hit for Gary Miller. Saunders opines that Gray was a genius and he reveals that he got the ideas for his scores at the most unusual times. He was driving home when the Fireball XL5 tune (sung by Don Spencer) popped into his head while he was driving home one night, while the famous Thunderbirds march came to him as he was lying in bed before getting up.

Equally important to the success of the shows was the casting of the character voices. Sylvia often held sway here and David Graham, Shane Rimmer (Scott Tracy), Robert Easton (Phones) and Elizabeth Morgan (Destiny, Rhapsody and Harmony Angel) recall the relaxed recording sessions. They voiced wild knowing that the pulse system would synch the dialogue with the puppets and Sylvia encouraged them to give natural readings, as though they were playing human characters.

Once again, Anderson produced 39 episodes (running 25 minutes each) and Johnson explains how a giant fish tank and a high-speed camera was used to create the underwater effects that would be duplicated for Thunderbird 4. Johnson and cameraman Reg Hill also recall the tank shattering, while model maker Alan Shubrook looks back with pride on being part of such an accomplished ensemble. But Anderson was less convinced by the new series and it lasted only a single season, as he had seen newsreel footage of a mining disaster in West Germany and had been so struck by the sight of the large drilling machine that he invented a body that stored such equipment at a top secret facility so that it could respond immediately to any emergency anywhere in the world. He named the organisation International Rescue. But the programme was called Thunderbirds.

Lady Penelope is delighted to reach her part in the story and Parker reminds everyone that astronaut Jeff Tracy ran International Rescue with the help of his five sons, Scott, John, Virgil, Alan and Gordon, who operated machines devised by Brains. Periodically, the Tracys responded to crises caused by a villain called The Hood, while they also frequently had recourse to request assistance from British agents, Lady Penelope and Parker. But the majority of cases involved cutting-edge technology malfunctioning and imperilling innocent lives. Stories involving such danger and destruction were unusual in 1965 and juvenile audiences lapped it up.

A clip from the 1971 documentary, Something for the Children, shows Sylvia explaining why the principals spoke with American accents. But Gerry later gave a more prosaic answer: the US networks paid more and called such creative shots, although it would seem that the invasion of British pop bands around this time made it easier to slip in the odd character from Blighty. Rather fancifully, David Graham claims that Parker was born in a pub restaurant in Cookham and had worked as a wine waiter before serving in the royal household. In fact, although he was something of a snob, Parker was a crook nicknamed `Nosey', who dropped his aitches and relished the opportunity to open fire with the guns secreted in the six-wheeled pink Rolls-Royce (with its number plate, FAB 1).

By all accounts, Gerry had wanted Fenella Fielding to voice Lady Penelope, but Sylvia insisted on taking the role and the old lags joke with Jamie that her puppet came to bear a more striking resemblance to Sylvia as the series went on. Shutt compares her to Emma Peel from The Avengers, while Lane opines that she was the real stars of the show, as she epitomised Swinging London - and even gave a television interview to a real reporter about her fashion sense.

For the majority of boys tuning in, however, Thunderbirds was all about tense moments like Virgil trying to land Fireflash on mobile platforms. Brains explains how Derek Meddings invented a rolling sky device that made it look as though the various aircraft were zooming along, while Johnson reveals how a rolling road machine was run at a different speed to exploit the illusion created by forced perspective. Sylvia proclaims Meddings a genius, while Lane describes him as a problem solver who brought big-screen techniques to a kids' YV show. However, Saunders and Elliott fondly remember him as a chap who liked an explosion and a thrilling montage bears out their contention.

Over black-and-white footage of the model shop in full flow, effects director Shaun Whittacker-Cook states that the attention to detail was remarkable, with designers working in conjunction with storyboard artists like Mike Trim to ensure that the miniatures looked right in long shots and close-ups, right down to their insignia and patches of grime. Wilson jokes about the ingenuity of the crew, who turned beach balls, plastic packaging and other household items into gadgets or set furniture. However, they didn't always get it right and Trim admits that he is still haunted by the lemon squeezer appended to the wall in Thunderbird 1's launch bay. According to Brains, fire and water effects are tricky to film and he explains how high-speed photography gives models a sense of gravitas and intensity by slowing them down. In order to demonstrate, Johnson rigs up an oil refinery set and it is astonishing to see how a couple of small pops and a bit of smoke in real time resemble a devastating explosion and a conflagration in super-slow-mo.

Lew Grade was delighted with the series and told Anderson to double the running time to 50 minutes. He was aware that this meant increasing the budget and the size of the crew, but Thunderbirds was selling worldwide and Ken Turner describes how exciting it was joining such a revered project. Saunders says it became essential viewing and claims the Tracys were akin to puppet versions of The Beatles. Fans certainly hung around the factory hoping to catch a glimpse of a set or find souvenirs in the rubbish bins. Even scientists at the National Physics Laboratory took it sufficiently seriously to write and complain that a craft of Thunderbird 2's proportions could never fly. Yet, while Dee recalls being amazed that her parents were behind this phenomenon, the faithful few admit to Jamie that they never felt they were making entertainment history.

In 1966, AP Films changed its name to Century 21 Cinema Productions to reflect its space-age image. Shortly afterwards, work began on the feature, Thunderbirds Are GO, which was filmed in Technicolor and Techniscope. However, while this meant additional prestige, it also meant extra pressure, as the level of detail quadrupled in a bid to achieve `no strings attached' perfection. Cliff Richard and The Shadows made cameo appearance in puppet form and Lady Penelope recollects that the picture was a huge success. But Parker remembers things a little differently, as the reviews were poor and audiences stayed away in the belief that they had already seen the storyline for free in the comfort of their own living rooms. A second feature, Thunderbird 6, was released in 1968. But Lane concedes that the leap to the cinema screen was bigger than anyone had anticipated and Matt Zimmermann (who voiced Alan Tracy) recalls the despondent mood being exacerbated by the fact that Gerry and Sylvia were on the verge of splitting up.

But Grade was waiting in the wings with more bad news. Although Thunderbirds was still popular in Britain, the American viewing figures were declining. Consequently, he ordered Anderson to abandon Tracy Island and come up with a new programme. This became Captain Scarlet and the Mysterons (1967), which charted the struggle for control of Earth in 2068 between Spectrum and Martian invaders who enlist the dead to their sinister cause. Opposing them were Colonel White and his network of agents and fighter pilots, although the principal tussle was between Captain Scarlett, who had become indestructible after surviving an encounter with the Mysterons, and Captain Black, who had gone over to the dark side.

As Parker opines, the emphasis on death and destruction meant the show felt a bit daunting for the nippers. Moreover, while the puppets were much less human caricatures (as smaller lip synching pulse mechanisms meant that the bodies could be better proportioned), director Leo Eaton confesses that they were much less loved by the puppeteers, who felt that they seemed so realistic that they looked ridiculous when they did something non-human. Woodburn blames Anderson for this, as he was always rather ashamed of working with puppets (he called them `little bastards') and was desperately disappointed that he was unable to follow up his live-action directing career after Crossroads to Crime, a B thriller produced by Anglo-Amalgamated in 1960. Yet, the irony is, if he hadn't detested the puppets so much, he wouldn't have put so much work into the details that set his shows apart.

Johnson jokes that there was always a rivalry between the effects crew and the puppeteers, as the latter always complained when a stunt damaged one of their dolls. But Shubrook says they were all committed to making each episode as good as it could be and all were sufficiently on the same wavelength to know that nothing would ever top Thunderbirds. Grade was certainly unimpressed with Captain Scarlett, who was stood down after 32 episodes. But Anderson already had the next concept ready to go. The introduction of reusable magnetic film gave him the idea for a hero whose brain could be repeatedly reprogrammed and he came to life in the form of a nine year-old boy, whose father (Professor McClaine) had patented a super-computer that could give him the expertise needed to handle any situation. There was a hint of Bond-like espionage about Joe 90 (1968) and some of the old hands feel a bit uneasy about a programme in which a boy was sent to kill terrorists.

In the end, it only ran for 30 episodes. Yet Anderson used it to improve manipulation techniques by installing electronic video assist monitors that enabled the puppeteers to see the action as it unfolded on the miniature sets. He also introduced video recording for instant playback, which meant that any required retakes could be shot straightaway without having to wait for the rushes. But Anderson was growing restless and the chance to return to live-action cinema with Doppelgänger (1969) prompted him to attempt a meld of human and puppet action in The Secret Service (1969), a spy scenario that starred Stanley Unwin as a the vicar of a country village who was really working undercover for British Intelligence Service Headquarters, Operation Priest.

Anderson was a huge fan of Unwin and his gobbledegook language known as `Unwinese' and was amused that he could use this and his miniaturisation device to get out of scrapes. But Grade was horrified by the whimsy of priest in the employ of BISHOP and felt that American audiences would be baffled by him and his sidekicks, Mrs Appleby the housekeeper and Matthew the gardener. He was even less convinced by the use of Unwin and other human actors in long shots and cancelled the series after a test screening of the pilot episode. Anderson convinced Grade to let him finish the 13 episodes already under way, but his disappointment was probably tinged with a degree of relief, as he was finally granted his wish to embark upon the live-action series, UFO.

Lane suggests that the writing had been on the wall for some time and Sylvia wonders whether the divorce impacted upon the staff as well as the Anderson family. Gerry had moved to offices in Pinewood and left the crew to complete The Secret Service in Slough. But there was no room for sentiment and Anderson closed down Stirling Road without a second thought. Shulbrook remembers the sets being sledgehammered and dumped into skips, while Turner recalls that he and a few others tried to keep the animation side going. But Lane says they all knew that standards had slipped and that they had done well to keep things going for 12 years.

Over a shot of Brains, Lieutenant Green and Mike Mercury on one of the few remaining sets, Saunders reflects that the shows have stood the test of time. Graham thanks Parker for being such a good friend before Lady Penelope gives him a final `well done' before ordering him to drive her home. This farewell and a final montage of classic clips would have been the perfect way to end the film. But La Rivière gets a bit carried away after the new owners of Stirling Road refuse to allow Jamie Anderson and the APF veterans inside and they agree to blow it up - using a wonderfully cheesy explosion that leaves part of the building ablaze.

This homemade effect rather sums up the entire enterprise, as La Rivière clearly didn't have much of a budget at his disposal. But he makes fine use of archive material and show highlights and is fortunate in having so many personable old-stagers on hand to share their recollections. Despite the presence of Jamie and Sylvia, this is anything but a sanitised history. But it might have been fun to have included contributions from some celebrity fans or those die-hards who keep the Supermarionation myth alive at conventions. Mention might also have been made of the fact that Graham will reprise the role of Parker (opposite Rosamund Pike's Lady Penelope) in Thunderbirds Are Go!, which has been commissioned by CITV and will set CGI characters against authentic backdrops in its 26 half-hour episodes. However, anyone with fond memories of Gerry Anderson's pioneering programmes will forgive the odd moment of self-indulgence and naff humour, as this picture is pretty much critic-proof.

The same is also true of George Hencken's debut documentary, Soul Boys of the Western World, which chronicles the musical odyssey of Spandau Ballet. Once again, outsiders have been excluded from this record, which is narrated off-camera by Gary and Martin Kemp, Tony Hadley, Steve Norman and John Keeble. But this is never entirely a glossy survey with everyone singing from the same hymn sheet, as the bitterness that led to the band breaking up in 1990 and later going to court over songwriting royalties still lingers during the much-vaunted 2009 reunion.

Emerging from working-class Islington childhoods that were contented, if never quite idyllic, teenagers Gary Kemp and Steve Norman were the first to join forces in a band called The Cut in 1976. Realising he would never fulfil his ambitions to play for Arsenal and keep wicket to England, drummer John Keeble, another student at Dame Alice Owen's School in Potters Bar, signed up shortly afterwards, along with bassist Michael Ellison. However, they struggled to find a singer and were surprised when beanpole classmate Tony Hadley turned out to have a fine set of pipes. Richard Miller soon replaced Ellison, as yet another school friend, Steve Dagger, became the group's manager after finding them a couple of early gigs.

Like his brother, Martin Kemp had attended the drama club at Anna Scher Children's Theatre and the brothers had appeared in commercials from the late 1960s. Martin has also appeared in David Eady's 1972 Children's Film Foundation drama, Hide and Seek. But he attended the Central Foundation Boys' School and felt a bit like an outsider watching the band develop, as he embarked upon a printing apprenticeship. So, he exploited the family connection to take up the bass guitar around about the time the name changed to The Makers and a shift in musical direction saw the quintet embrace punk. But, despite an early gig at The Roxy, the new combo failed to cut the mustard and the boys reinvented themselves as a power pop outfit called Gentry.

This proved to be a retrogressive step, however, and it was only when Dagger discovered such happening London clubs as Billy's and Blitz that the newly dubbed Spandau Ballet (a name journalist Robert Elms saw daubed on a wall in Berlin) would discover the New Romanticism that would become their trademark. Steve Strange and Rusty Egan were the driving force behind Covent Garden's countercultural shift, but it was Dagger's decision to play a gig on HMS Belfast that got the Spandaus known and sparked a bidding war to sign them to a major label. Chrysalis won out and `To Cut a Long Story Short' saw the band debut on Top of the Pops and make a decent showing on the charts. As the album Journey to Glory went gold, Gary Kemp assumed responsibility for the songwriting chores and modest hits followed with `The Freeze' and `Musclebound'. However, `Chant No.1' proved even more popular, as did the second LP, Diamond.

But, while `Chant No.1' broke Spandau Ballet in America,`Paint Me Down' failed to make the Top 30, while `She Loved Like Diamond' missed the Top 40. Determined to keep the dream alive, Gary Kemp penned `True', `Gold' and `Pleasure', which all peaked in the upper echelons of the hit parade and helped make True their bestselling album. The follow-up, Parade, spawned `Only When You Leave' and `I'll Fly for You' , which earned them an invitation to appear on the Band Aid single, `Do They Know Its Christmas', and a slot at Live Aid in the summer of 1984.

They also remained firm favourites with producers of children's television programmes and promoted their singles with guest appearances and banal interviews that soon began to lose their appeal. However, they took their showdown with Duran Duran on a Christmas edition of Mike Read's Pop Quiz very seriously and were devastated to lose. The release of The Singles Collection brought to a close five years of whirlwind success But a change of label and growing tensions within the line-up meant that Beyond the Barricades was a less happy experience for all concerned. Thus, even though the title track and `Fight for Ourselves' did well in Britain, Europe and Australia, Spandau Ballet had fallen from grace in the United States and the fault lines began to widen.

Hadley, Norman and Keeble could only look on as Peter Medak cast the Kemps in The Krays (1990) and the reunited combo only just made it through the recording of Heart Like a Sky in 1989. Thus, even though `Raw' and `Be Free With Your Love' did well enough in the singles chart, the time had come to go separate ways. The Kemps continued acting, with Gary (who was then married to actress Sadie Frost) playing heavies in a handful of mediocre Hollywood thrillers and Martin bouncing back from surgery on two brain tumours to play Steve Owen in Eastenders.

Gary also released his first solo album, Little Bruises, in 1995. But Hadley, Norman and Keeble resented the fact that he claimed sole authorship of the band's songs and sued for their share of the credit and the royalties. However, they not only lost the case, but also their share in the band's corporate identity, as Gary bought them out to help them settle their legal debts. The ousted trio continued to perform together, but Hencken prefers to skate over this period in the group's history (possibly at their insistence), even though it witnessed such interesting developments as Martin making his directorial debut (with Stalker, 2010), Gary work on the musicals The Bedbug and A Terrible Beauty, Norman relocate to Ibiza and form the band Cloudfish, and Hadley release three solo albums and win the reality show, Reborn in the USA (2003).

Instead, the focus shifts to the 2009 reunion, which was announced aboard HMS Belfast. Plentiful jokes were made about money and feuds, particularly by Jonathan Ross on his BBC chat show. But the five friends put a brave face on it and rediscovered the enjoyment that had driven them to success in the first place. In addition to playing several sell-out gigs, they also released the album Once More, which included two new songs, as well as revised versions of their older hits. Subsequently, they got back together to promote Hencken's documentary, which premiered at the Royal Albert Hall.

Already destined for a DVD release, this will be vital viewing for Spandau Ballet devotees and those yearning for a little 80s nostalgia .In truth, however, while it relates the tale with polished efficiency, this documentary is too keen to tell the official story rather than provide a warts`n' all account. Much more might have been made of the group's place within the Blitz scene and the extent to which they created their own look or simply borrowed it from more radical clubbers. Moreover, allusions to the sex and drugs are not enough to enliven the rock`n' passages, especially for those who consider them a lesser act than such contemporaries as fellow New Romantics Duran Duran or electronica bands like Depeche Mode, Ultravox and The Human League.

Considering the fact that Hencken has produced some of Julien Temple's recent work, it's surprising to note the conventionality of his approach. It is also disappointing that, beside a passing mention to Thatcher and The Troubles, he resists placing the Spandau story in its wider socio-political context, while far too little time is spent analysing the blend of soul, glam rock and punk that informed the essential guitar and drum sound that was eventually inflected with some strident saxophone. Editor Chris Duveen does a solid job in snapping the pieces into place. But this too often feels like a Spandau Ballet album, as while the odd moment is memorable, too many others are makeweights.

We stay in the capital for the only fictional feature under scrutiny this week. Exploring the impact that immigration can have on individuals and families alike, the debuting Destiny Ekaragha's Gone Too Far has been adapted by Bola Agbaje from her own play, which ran at the Royal Court in 2008. By all accounts, this episodic comedy of juvenile urban manners contained dance segments that linked the scenes, while also commenting on them. These interludes have failed to make it into the screenplay, but they have not been replaced with anything equally dynamic that could animate what could have been an entertaining and instructive insight into the schisms between London's various black communities.

The focus falls on Peckham boy Malachi Kirby's efforts to flirt with preening temptress Shanika Warren-Markland while trying to help older Yoruba-speaking brother OC Ukeje settle into his new surroundings after arriving from Nigeria. Sent by domineering mother Golda John to buy some okra, Kirby and Ukeje find themselves being pursued by Warren-Markland's just-dumped boyfriend Tosin Cole and his mixed-race mate Miles McDonald, who finds the feuding between Caribbean and African fraternities as distateful as Warren-Markland's best friend, Adelayo Adedayo.

Much is made of Kirby's embarrassment at his sibling's insistence on wearing socks with sandals and the thickness of his accent. But instead of exploring the reasons why Kirby has striven to hard to suppress his Nigerian roots, Agbaje settles for laddish banter, which quickly becomes as wearying as the self-regarding Warren-Markland's cynical bid to seduce Kirby in the hope of making the cocksure Cole jealous. A subplot involving local radio DJ Eddie Kadi and star rapper Michael Maris proves to be even more of a dead end, as Ekaragha struggles to control the pace and direction of her narrative.

This is a well-meaning picture that strives to demonstrate that there is much to black kids than rap, drugs and violence. But there is seemingly no cultural cliché or caricature that Agbaje and Ekaragha are unable to shoehorn into the busy plot, with officious Asian shopkeepers and white community police officers being the benign villains. Even more regrettably, by concentrating on the male perspective, they reduce their female characters to ciphers, who sense of well-being is dictated d by their ability to attract the lad of their dreams.

The discussion of heritage retention and social assimilation, skin colour and the slave legacy is eminently worthwhile. What's more, the issues are addressed in an audience-friendly manner that resembles a BritCom variation on a Nollywood movie. But this genial, if insubstantial feature often feels more like a civics lesson than a satire. Kirby and Ukeje spark well enough, but Warren-Markland and Adedayo are given too little to do, while too many secondary characters are little more than lightning sketches. Stil Williams's roving camerawork helps Ekaragha open out the play's episodic action. But, having made such an impression with her witty 2008 short, Tight Jeans, she disappointingly fails to make the most of the vibrant location and struggles to suggest lives being lived.