Parky at the Pictures (DVD 8/1/2015)

In a voiceover accompanying footage of a fractious funeral, newspaper columnist Richard Jenkins explains that God's Pocket is a great place to live, providing you're a native. Serial loser Philip Seymour Hoffman has been accepted (albeit with reservations) because he is married to local beauty Christina Hendricks. But, no matter how hard he tries to fit in, he will never be accepted or accorded the latitude granted Hendricks's mouthy 22 year-old son, Caleb Landry Jones, who struts around the hospital building site where he is employed, flicking his switchblade and making racist remarks to veteran labourer, Arthur French.

Hoffman has struck a deal with florist John Turturro and crook Domenick Lombardozzi to steal a refrigerator meat container and flog the contents to butchers across the neighbourhood. As they drive, Hoffman enthuses about a horse running in an upcoming race and reveals how he hopes to cash in on its long odds. He flinches at the brutality Lombardozzi uses to persuade the driver to abandon his rig and gets teased by Turturro when he thinks he is going to be pulled over by a highway patrol.

But, just as Hoffman has a narrow escape, Jones gets what's coming to him, as French responds to the latest taunt by caving in his skull with a metal bar and all but the stuttering Jonathan Gordon agree to back foreman Glenn Fleshler's story that Jones was struck by a swinging winch hook. Meanwhile, Hoffman and Turturro have taken the meat back to the florist shop the latter runs with Joyce Van Patten and he asks his buddy for a loan to pay back the $20,000 he owes Lombardozzi. Hoffman readily agrees, but realises on getting home that he will need all his spare cash to pay for Jones's funeral.

Editor Christopher McCann is also seeking answers after his paper prints an inaccurate report of Jones's demise and he warns Jenkins that he will be fired unless he stops wasting his time boozing and sleeping with journalism graduates like Sophia Takal. As he laps up her hero worship, Hoffman receives the sympathy of the regulars at Peter Gerety's bar and he thanks them for the contribution they have made towards the funeral expenses. However, any hopes Hoffman might have had of cutting corners are scotched by undertaker Eddie Marsan, who cautions him against trying to fob Hendricks off with a cheap coffin for her only boy.

She is being consoled by Rebecca Kling and Molly Price, who have little time for Hoffman and berate him for sleeping in Jones's bed rather than on the sofa. He is grateful to Marsan, therefore, for dragging him upstairs to find a burial suit. But he reminds him that he will expect to be paid promptly for the mahogany casket. What's more, the inconsolable Hendricks suspects foul play and orders Hoffman to make some inquiries around the Pocket. Aware that his outsider status will preclude him from ascertaining the truth, Hoffman delegates this duty to Turturro, who, in turn, sub-contracts it to Lombardozzi, who promises to ask around.

Power cuts have prevented Turturro from preparing the stolen meat for sale, and, so, Hoffman is grateful to Bill Buell, Rebecca Kling and Prudence Wright Holmes for raising $1400 in a jar on the bar at the Hollywood. They also play up to Jenkins when he drops into the bar to get the lowdown on the Jones story, while cops Matthew Lawler and Danny Mastrogiorgio are so taken with Hendricks that they agree to pay a return visit to what she is convinced is the scene of a crime. Angry at being threatened by Fleshler, Gordon tries to tell the officers that a crime has been committed, but he takes so long blurting out his accusation that they lose patience with him and leave convinced there has been a tragic accident.

Fleshler is working late alone when Lombardozzi arrives on site with back-up Chris Cardona and Michael Kaycheck. However, Fleshler is anything but intimidated by them and gouges out an eye in staging an impressive rearguard with his shovel. Lombardozzi blames Turrurro for the incident, but he is too busy watching his horse beat Hoffman's surefire tip to care. Indeed, his winnings go some way to paying off his debt and he still has enough over to give to Hoffman, who has just blown the bar money in the hope of winning enough to pay for the entire funeral.

Marsan is unimpressed by Hoffman's sob story, however, and he tries to attack him before regaining his composure. As he goes to fetch a beer, Jenkins pays a call on Hendricks and is instantly smitten by her cascading tresses and curvaceous figure. He pats her hand while reassuring her that the paper will do the right thing by her child and uses a casual remark about Jones loving animals to invite Hendricks to see the plot of land he owns beside a lake. She accepts demurely, just as Hoffman gets turfed out of the funeral parlour in the rain and trips over the corpse that has been dumped unceremoniously in a back alley. Struggling through the puddles, Hoffman lugs Jones to his refrigerated meat van and dumps him inside. He gets home to see Jenkins and Hendricks coming downstairs. But, while he suspects nothing, he is overcome with a sense of inadequacy and rushes to the bathroom to throw up rather than tell his wife the awful truth.

The following morning, Hoffman gets a rollocking from Price, who warns him that he had better not mess up over the funeral. But his efforts to see some of the stolen beef are confounded by Jones's presence in the corner of the van and he finds himself left to his own devices after Van Patten guns down Lombardozzi and his oppo when they come to the shop seeking revenge on Turturro. As they flee to Florida, Jenkins drives Hendricks to a meadow outside the city and shows her the view they would have if he built their dream home. He asks how she would cope having a 60 year-old celebrity around and she lies back with him on the picnic rug.

Now desperate to raise funds, Hoffman goes to secondhand dealer Lenny Venito to cut a deal for his truck. As they chat in the office, Hoffman is horrified to see mechanic Michael Rogers take the vehicle for a test drive and runs after it in a frantic bid to prevent anyone from finding the deep-frozen Jones in the back. However, Rogers panics when he catches sight of Hoffman in the wing mirror and causes a crash at some traffic lights. The collision coincides with Jenkins and Hendricks reaching orgasm and all three lie on their backs gazing up at the clouds. But, as Jenkins tells Hendricks that he loves her, the cuckolded Hoffman slinks back to the garage to demand that Venito pays top dollar for the written-off van.

Relieved to hand over the full amount to the penitent Marsan (who promises to retrieve Jones from the morgue), Hoffman goes to the Hollywood for a drink. However, Bill Buell sidles over to inform him that his wife has slept with Jenkins and Hoffman tries to explain that the writer is merely helping he find out what happened to Jones. Tired of the gossiping deadbeats who prop up his bar, Gerety calls time and puts up the house lights. But, back home, Hoffman sits silently in the darkness, as Hendricks sneaks in from a rendezvous with Jenkins and he sits in the gloom unable to control a single facet of his existence.

Enraged by the report of Jones's second death, Hendricks hits Hoffman about the head with the morning newspaper. He tries to calm her down by telling her that having money problems is nothing to be ashamed of and she realises that he must have learned of her infidelity when he opines that everyone in the Pocket knows each other's business anyway. Jenkins says much the same thing in his column, as he credits the residents for struggling on in the face of overwhelming odds. He smiles from his car as Hoffman punches Marsan on the steps of the funeral home and moons over Hendricks, as she mourns her son.

However, she fails to return his calls and Jenkins wanders into the Hollywood just as French returns to work. Jenkins orders a beer, but Gerety suggests he should leave, as people are livid about his latest column. He tries to explain that he was paying them a compliment, but bruisers Michael Drayer and Eddie McGee are in no mood to listen and Gerety tells Hoffman not to interfere when he tries to come to Jenkins's defence. As the scuffle spills into the street, Hendricks comes to see what the fuss is about and the momentary distraction proves Jenkins's downfall, as he disappears under a blizzard of kicks and blows. His body is still lying in the middle of the road, long after everyone has melted away. But his fate remains a mystery, as the action closes with Hoffman laying low with Turturro and Van Patten in their new trailer in Florida, while he works out what to do next.

Better received in this country than the United States, this is a Runyonesque romp that owes its ring of authenticity to the fact that Dexter was once a Jenkins-style columnist on the Philadelphia Daily News. Indeed, he had his back and pelvis broken by the denizens of Devil's Pocket in 1981, when he was caught up in an attack on heavyweight boxer Tex Cobb. Quite how much autobiographical detail informs the Jenkins character is open to conjecture, but Dexter's self-depracatory himour seeps into every scene in this shruggingly generous paean to the pride and prejudice of insular blue-collar communities.

The performances are splendid and feel like a throwback to the post-Code American cinema of the early 1970s. Hoffman is particularly impressive as the sad sack incapable whose last good decision seems to have been marrying Hendricks. She also does well as the seeming innocent with the flinty heart of a Lady Macbeth and her scenes with the impeccable Jenkins are simultaneously sweet and seedy. Marsan and Turturro contribute knowing cameos, but every minor role (no matter how shorthanded) feels perfectly cast in order to catch the human spirt of the place. Yet, in spite of the excellence of Lance Acord's muted imagery and Roshelle Berliner's cosily shabby interiors, Slattery never quite nails what it is that distinguishes God's Pocket physically and sociologically from any other rundown suburb.

The pungent poignancy that pervades the action reinforces the sense of economic malaise that makes Hoffman's hardscrabble existence even more of a struggle. But it's his failure to find acceptance that seals his fate and the concept of acclimatisation recurs in Hong Khaou's debut feature, Lilting. This is a potentially charming drama that is not afraid to take its time and afford the audience the opportunity to linger on facial expressions during the lengthy passages of bilingual translation. But, for all the rhythmic assurance and thematic intensity that have earned this comparisons with both Andrew Haigh's Weekend (2011) and Ann Hui's A Simple Life (2012), there are too many lapses in characterisation and moments of clumsy melodramatic contrivance for this to be deemed an unqualified success.

Dropping back a decade, writer-director Daniel Schechter also catches the period mood with insouciant ease in Life of Crime, an adaptation of Elmore Leonard's bestseller The Switch that may be more faithful to its source than other reworkings of the cult novelist's oeuvre, but which is still likely to divide opinion as much as God's Pocket.

Trophy wife Jennifer Aniston is married to Detroit property developer Tim Robbins. The passion cooled a long time ago and Aniston now struggles to get a civil word out of their spoilt teenage son, Charlie Tahan. But petty hoods Yasiin Bey and John Hawkes are convinced that things are so tickety-boo that Robbins would be willing to pay a fortune if Aniston was ever kidnapped. Consequently, they hook up with neo-Nazi thug Mark Boone Junior to secure a hideout and bundle Aniston into their car, in spite of the inconvenient arrival of her country club friend, Will Forte.

Much to everyone's surprise, however, Robbins is planning to divorce Aniston and refuses to co-operate. Moreover, mistress Isla Fisher views the situation as an ideal opportunity to remove her rival from the picture without having to pay any alimony or risk the discovery of the illicit fortune that Robbins has made from building in the Bahamas using stolen materials. So, when Bey heads to the islands to negotiate the $1 million ransom, Fisher makes a counter-proposal that Bey bumps off Aniston for $100,000 and says nothing about the deal to Hawkes.

Despite having been buddies since they were cellmates, Bey decides to go solo. However, Hawkes has grown close to Aniston during her incarceration and, suspecting that he has been double-crossed, he helps her escape from the gun-toting Boone (who has been spying on her through holes drilled in his walls) and escorts her home to confront Robbins. She threatens to expose his scam and he crumbles pathetically. But Aniston isn't finished with him yet, as Bey has just returned to the Motor City with Fisher in tow.

Admirers of black-and-white British comedies will recognise this set-up from Mario Zampi's Too Many Crooks (1959), in which Brenda de Banzie turns the tables on philandering husband Terry-Thomas when he proves scarcely able to conceal his delight when she is abducted by George Cole, Sidney James and Bernard Bresslaw. However, this is very much a homage to the late Elmore Leonard (who took an executive producer credit, alongside a staggering 26 others) and fans will be pleased by the amount of dialogue appropriated from the source novel by a director whose earlier outings, Goodbye Baby (2007) and Supporting Characters (2012), barely caused a ripple.

Yet Schechter also gets the mood of the piece right and is ably abetted in this regard by production designer Inbal Weinberg and costumier Anna Terrazas. The score by the Newton Brothers is also spot on, as is music superviser Laura Katz's perceptive choice of period hits. But it's the performances that keep this slyly convoluted romp ticking along so nicely.

Robbins makes a splendidly seedy spouse, while the possessive Fisher gold-digs with a ferocious sense of entitlement that contrasts amusingly with Aniston's gradual rediscovery of the personality she had allowed to be suppressed in order to enjoy the trappings of the good life. Providing the picture's serio-comic core, she sparks particularly well with the soft-centred Hawkes, who rises to the challenge with Bey (aka Mos Def) of playing the parts of Louis Gara and Ordell Robbie that were taken by Robert De Niro and Samuel L. Jackson in Quentin Tarantino's Jackie Brown (1997), which was based on Leonard's 1992 book, Rum Punch. Thus, while this may not be as stellar as Barry Sonnenfeld's Get Shorty (1995) or as slick as Steven Soderbergh's Out of Sight (1998), it is certainly enjoyable and stands as a fitting memorial to a game-changing genre maestro.

The mood is more sombre in Kelly Reichardt's Night Moves. This is the latest in a series of outdoor features that deconstruct an established genre. Having described her debut, River of Grass (1994), as `[a] road movie without the road, a love story without the love, and a crime story without the crime', Reichardt has since revised the buddy picture in Old Joy (2006), the odyssey in Wendy and Lucy (2008) and the Western in Meek's Cutoff (2010). Now, she turns to the political thriller in a scenario that appears more plot driven than her previous outings and, yet, keeps the focus firmly on humanity's relationship with the environment and the difficulty of putting ideas and emotions into action.

Green campaigner Jesse Eisenberg works on an organic farm in Oregon and lives in a trendy yurt. He is friends with Dakota Fanning, an employee at a New Age spa who shares his belief that consumer society is destroying the planet. However, he begins to lose faith in raising awareness through documentary screenings and, so, when he decides that it is no longer acceptable to decimate forests or kill marine life in order to power iPods, the pair agree to blow up a hydroelectric dam.

They enlist the help of Eisenberg's ex-Marine buddy, Peter Sarsgaard, as not only is he disaffected, but he also has a working knowledge of explosives. Heading out of town, Eisenberg and Fanning purchase a small boat named Night Moves and accompany Sarsgaard to an agricultural supply merchants to purchase large amounts of ammonium nitrate fertilizer. Salesman James Le Gros is somewhat suspicious about their need for such quantities of a material that he knows can be used in bomb-making. However, Eisenberg knows enough about crops from harvesting cabbages to make a sufficiently cogent argument to swing the deal.

As they begin to prepare in earnest, Eisenberg and Fanning move into Sarsgaard's trailer in the woods, which is close to their target. They spend their evenings discussing ideology and it becomes clear that they have more commitment to their cause than a rounded understanding of it. It also becomes evident that the reticent Eisenberg has a crush on Fanning that is not reciprocated and he grows even more prickly when camper Lew Temple tries to befriend them at the very moment they need to be at their least conspicuous.

Reichardt and cinematographer Christopher Blauvelt make exceptional use of the landscape throughout the planning stage. Indeed, the images of pine-covered mountains, rolling fields and expanses of glassy water do more to convince the audience of the rectitude of what is undoubtedly a risky, reckless and, not to say, foolish act of terrorism than the triumvirate's earnest, if somewhat superficial conversations. A shot of them sailing past an area of denuded forest is particularly powerful and Reichardt and co-writer Jonathan Raymond wisely makes the backdrop a key component of the assault.

The plan is to load the boat with explosives and allow it to drift into the dam, thus giving the trio the chance to make a getaway without raising any alarms. Reichardt and sound designer Kent Sparling heighten the tension of the drive home by foregrounding the noise of the wind rustling a piece of tarpaulin in the back window of the vehicle, as the camera fixes on the grim expressions of the eco warriors listening out for the explosion that will confirm their mission has been a success.

However, when they tune into the media coverage of the attack, they are appalled to discover that Temple has gone missing. Fanning takes the news particularly hard and even breaks out into a rash because she feels so guilty at potentially having taken a human life. Yet Eisenberg also becomes increasingly paranoid, as he convinces himself that Fanning is falling for Sarsgaard and that she will end up deserting and betraying him. In a state of mounting desperation, Eisenberg makes a clumsy play for Fanning and, when she rejects him, he murders her and heads out on the road alone.

One of the pleasure of Reichardt's minimalist style is her eschewal of melodrama. However, she comes perilously close to contrivance in the final third of this typically watchful and meticulously paced picture. There is something Hitchcockian about the story set-up, as Reichardt makes it clear what is about to happen and, as these events transpire, she allows viewers to develop an affinity with what are (in spite of the skilful performances) pretty unsympathetic characters. Fanning may seem right on, but she is capable of low cunning, just as Sarsgaard's bluff machismo is enervated by a twitchy unpredictability and Eisenberg's conviction is compromised by his brooding inarticulacy.

In fact, more attention is paid to the flawed personality traits of the protagonists than their opinions. There is a political element to the screenplay. But Reichardt more effectively examines corporate power and greed through the juxtaposition of natural beauty and urban mundanity than she does through any searing ethical rhetoric. The depiction of a viable agrarian counterculture is reasonably authentic, but the anger and anxiety that motivates the raid is less well limned and the alliance between the American government and the major conglomerates speeding up climate change gets off rather lightly.

Reichardt and Raymond ran into a little trouble of their own during production, as producer Edward R. Pressman filed a lawsuit noting the similarities between their scenario and Edward Abbey's 1975 novel, The Monkey Wrench Gang, which he was lining up for Henry Joost and Ariel Schulman. However, the shoot continued without hindrance. The narratives do (apparently) bear a marked similarity. But Reichardt imposes her artistic personality upon proceedings that play out edgily to Jeff Grace's lowering score. However, she might have been advised to close the action after Eisenberg and Fanning make it through the roadblock and leave it up to the audience to speculate about how they are going to cope psychologically with the enormity of their crime.

If Night Moves was one of the disappointments of 2014, John Ridley's Jimi: All Is By My Side was among the worst. Clearly, the project was hamstrung by its inability to secure the rights to Jimi Hendrix's original music. But surely it must have been better to forego all pretence of biography and adopt a film à clef approach similar to the ones taken by Michael Curtiz in the Bix Beiderbecke-inspired Young Man With a Horn (1950) and by Gus Van Sant in the Kurt Cobain-inflected Last Days (2005). Fresh from winning the Oscar for Best Adapted Screenplay for Steve McQueen's 12 Years a Slave, Ridley was probably given carte blanche to return to directing for the first time since Cold Around the Heart (1997). But he never seems to get inside the head of his protagonist or capture the ambience of Swinging London and, as a consequence, this fussy, fidgety feature not only sheds little light on Hendrix, but it is also often unforgivably dull.

The story opens in May 1966 in the sparsely populated Cheetah Club in New York, where Jimmy Hendrix (André Benjamin) is playing guitar with Curtis Knight and The Squires, He is noticed by Linda Keith (Imogen Poots), the talent-spotting girlfriend of Rolling Stone Keith Richards (Ashley Charles), who invites him back to her pad and initiates a beautiful friendship with the new Bob Dylan album and a tab of acid. Girlfriend Faye Pridgeon (Clare-Hope Ashitey) takes a dim view of Hendrix's fascination with white women and `white boy records'. But, just as he stops her from watching him play in Greenwich Village, so he keeps Keith away from his Harlem gigs.

Naturally, this makes him seem even more appealing to the 20 year-old model, who introduces him to the British celebrities hanging out at the Cafe Wha?, where he is afforded the opportunity to perform with his own band. But Stones manager Andrew Loog Oldham (Robbie Jarvis) is decidedly underwhelmed when he sees Jimmy James and The Blue Flames and Keith is beginning to despair when she bumps into Chas Chandler (Andrew Buckley), the bassist of The Animals, who just happens to be ready to move into management. He is blown away by Hendrix and coaxes him into coming to London with the promise that the colour of his skin will matter a lot less than the quality of his music.

Despite Richards losing patience with Keith for spending too much time with the charismatic American and suggesting that her father (Richard Lintern) fetches her home, she remains loyal to Hendrix and lends him a white Fender Stratocaster belonging to Richards that becomes his lucky charm. Yet, on the day he lands in London (24 September 1966), he not only signs a contract with Chandler and Animals manager Michael Jeffrey (Burn Gorman), but he also falls into bed with Kathy Etchingham (Hayley Atwell) after meeting her at the Scotch of St James nightclub. Keith is hurt by his betrayal when she finds them in bed together at the Hyde Park Hotel and all-but disappears from the scene as Etchingham and Hendrix become inseparable, even snuggling on a park bench while listening to a Salvation Army band play Psalm 23.

However, it's at this juncture that Ridley's twin tendencies of presuming too much prior knowledge and taking liberties with the truth start to become more than a little irksome. Having provided no backstory whatsoever, he suddenly has Hendrix chat long distance to his father Al (Geoffrey Burton), as though it was readily apparent that this strict taskmaster had raised Jimmy and brother Leon alone after divorcing their alcoholic mother. Furthermore, Ridley makes it look as though Etchingham is some pushy northern hairdresser who gazumped the well-spoken Keith like an slatternly groupie. In fact, she was a close friend of Angela King, the wife of Chandler's bandmate, Eric Burdon, and not only knew many of the major bands on the burgeoning pop scene, but also worked as a DJ at venues like the Cromwellian Club.

A quick look at Etchingham's website reveals her opinion of the film, which goes on to depict her being hospitalised after an (apparently fictitious) overdose after Hendrix had slapped her around for disrupting a recording session and then beaten about the head with a pay-phone receiver. Following the latter incident, Etschingham is helped home by Ida (Ruth Negga), a hanger-on from Milwaukee loosely based on groupie Devon Wilson, who encounters Hendrix in a secondhand bookshop and introduces him to Michael X (Adrian Lester), who is depicted as a counterculture guru who lights up a joint and warns Jimi about the British version of racism and urges him to play music for his own people. Yet, when Hendrix (who was earlier ordered to remove a boutique-bought military jacket by three racist policemen) opines that he has no problems playing to audiences of any colour, Michael rolls his eyes and tuts when Hendrix criticises his own tactics and declares that things will only change when the `power of love takes over the love of power'.

Ridley excludes Etchingham from this meeting, yet she insists she was present and that Michael attacked Hendrix for having a white lover. Over the next couple of years, Michael would establish a Black Power commune on the Holloway Road and would number John Lennon and Yoko Ono among his friends. But he was executed for a double murder in his native Trinidad in 1972 and one has to wonder what Ridley was striving to achieve by sanitising a less than saintly individual.

Back on the road to fame, Chandler persuades Hendrix to change his name to Jimi and pairs him with bassist Noel Redding (Oliver Bennett) and drummer Mitch Mitchell (Tom Dunlea), the former of whom is spotted auditioning for The New Animals, while the latter is chosen over a rival candidate on the toss of a coin. But while The Jimi Hendrix Experience are still finding their sound (which only vaguely resembles the generic R&B licks presented here), he cajoles Chandler into asking if he can jam with Cream at the Central London Polytechnic and manages to show up Eric Clapton (Danny McColgan) by outshining him on a rendition of Howling Wolf's `Killing Floor'.

This famous episode took place exactly a week after Hendrix had landed in London and provides one of the few authentic musical moments in the entire movie, as the estate's refusal to let Ridley use original recordings means that he even seems unable to identify the debut single, `Hey Joe', which was released on 23 October 1966 after The Experience had returned from a stint supporting Johnny Hallyday in France. He also bypasses the legendary Bag O'Nails gig that astounded the assembled rock royalty and the success of two further singles, `Purple Haze'' and `The Wind Cries Mary', which revealed Hendrix as a talented songwriter. But Ridley seems to be ignoring the music almost as an act of revenge on the executors who spurned him and he treats the recording of the Are You Experienced album as a minor achievement compared to Paul McCartney recommending Hendrix for the Monterey Pop Festival in the summer of 1967. Similarly, no mention is made of journalist Keith Altham's suggestions for spicing up the stage act that is shown going down so badly in Spalding on 29 May 1967 - although Hendrix dismisses the fuss made of his `gimmicks' during his tête-à-tête with Michael X.

However, Ridley clearly does have permission to use the title track of Sgt Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band, with which Hendrix opened his show at the Saville Theatre on 4 June 1967, just three days after the landmark Beatles album had been released. Paul McCartney, George Harrison and Brian Epstein were all present and took the audacious tribute as a huge compliment. But Ridley has one more dubious sequence to shoehorn in before Hendrix can jet Stateside in triumph for the concert that would make him a superstar, as he takes a diversion to return the lucky white guitar to Keith, who remains coyly proud that she had persuaded him to go solo and play his own way.

Opinions differ as to the fate of this instrument, as Keith claimed in an Observer interview last year that Hendrix had smashed it up on stage at the Cafe au Go Go in New York, while collector Arthur Louis avers that Hendrix gave it to him on 18 March 1970 after his own guitar had been stolen following a charity gig at the Speakeasy Club. Either way, he clearly didn't give it back to Keith, whose seriius drug issues at this time are completely airbrushed out of Ridley's perpetually wayward account.

Yet this is par for the course in this arrogantly shoddy rewriting of history. Even the premise on which the film is based is flawed, as Ridley felt sufficiently moved by the song `Send My Love to Linda' to leap to the conclusion that it had been inspired by Hendrix's lingering gratitude to and regard for Linda Keith. But Kathy Etchingham has since proved that Hendrix actually penned the song for her and she got him to change to title to cheer up percussionist Rocky Dijon's girlfriend Linda, who had just thrown up in a wastepaper basket. Nobody expects a biopic to be rigidly factual, but if the basics are this far wide of the mark, it's difficult to take it seriously as anything other than an exercise in creative egotism.

Nevertheless, even though there is little to commend in the wrter-director's contribution (with his tinkering with sound levels during conversations being just one of many arch stylistic gambits), André Benjamin (aka OutKast rapper André 3000) admirably catches the mien and mannerisms of Jimi Hendrix, even though he occasionally overdoes the mumblingly musing speech pattern that made the guitarist seem so flamboyantly laid back. But, for all this uncanniness and the flashes of insight that Benjamin provides into Hendrix's selfishness and insecurity, this is much more of an impersonation than a performance and he doesn't get close to recapturing Hendrix's on-stage magnetism and unpredictability.

Imogen Poots and Hayley Atwell have to work far harder at creating characters who serve the drama rather better than they serve historical record. But they do well enough alongside a largely caricatured supporting cast that is padded out with captioned (but uncredited) lookalikes of McCartney, Harrison and Epstein. Paul Cross's production design is solid enough, but Leonie Prendergast's costumes feel more generic than authentic and it's this carelessness that undermines the film at every turn. There are countless documentaries available, including Bob Smeaton's Jimi Hendrix: Hear My Train A Comin', which was approved by the family to mark the 70th anniversary of Hendrix's birth. But even if Ridley was seeking to focus more on the private man and the influences that shaped a musical genius than his technique and career trajectory, he still needed to prioritise facts over flights of fancy, especially ones that depart so flagrantly from the recollections of those who were actually there.

In the immediate period after the Great War, a number of British films about the conflict continued to fight the propaganda battles against the Kaiser and the Beastly Hun that had started somewhat belatedly when the government realised the role that cinema could play in conveying information, espousing patriotism and raising morale. However, from the mid-1920s onwards, Western Front pictures across Europe began to reflect upon the carnage of the campaigns and the casualties suffered by both sides. Among the most notable offerings was German Louis Ralph's Unsere Emden (1926), an equitable record of the 1914 naval battle of Cocos that prompted British Instructional Films to respond in kind with The Battles of Coronel and Falkland Islands (1927), which is released by the BFI for the first time on DVD in a striking new transfer.

Director Walter Summers had served with distinction as a sergeant in the trenches. Indeed, the second of his three decorations for bravery inspired the epochal play, Journey's End, which was written by his brother-in-arms in the 9th East Surreys, RC Sheriff. But Summers was keen for those back home to experience what their loved ones had endured between 1914-18 and he had been widely acclaimed for his British Instructional reconstructions, Ypres (1925) and Mons (1926). However, recreating sea battles posed an much greater challenge and Summers sought the co-operation of the Admiralty to ensure the action had a scope and scale that models and archive footage could not create. His tenacity was rewarded with permission to stage the major maritime manoeuvres with Royal Navy ships off the coast of Malta, while he pressed the Isles of Scilly into doing duty as the Falklands. The result was a record of such authenticity and spectacle that it was proclaimed one of the finest pictures produced by a British film industry that was rarely commanded accolades from continental critics.

Numbering John Buchan (of 39 Steps fame) among its quartet of writers, the action sticks to the historical facts as closely as possible. In 1914, the 5th Light Cruiser Squadron comprising HMS Good Hope, Monmouth and Glasgow is detailed to patrol the South Pacific in order to protect British imperial interests. However, in late October, Rear Admiral Sir Christopher Cradock encounters the German fleet under Vice-Admiral Graf Maximilian von Spee at Coronel and, following standing orders (and evidently inspired by the portrait of Horatio Nelson on the wall of his cabin), he elects to attack a force that includes SMS Leipzig, Nurnberg, Dresden, Gneisnau and the flagship Scharnhorst. In the ensuing struggle, Monmouth is destroyed and her helpless crew are fired upon in the water, while the flagship Good Hope eventually sinks after a valiant rearguard.

Back in London, Admiral Jackie Fisher is appointed First Sea Lord to address the problems that had resulted in Britain's first naval defeat in a century. In addition to ordering the refitting of cruisers HMS Inflexible and Invincible, Fisher also appoints Admiral Sir Doveton Sturdee to command the retaliatory force, which is able to set sail sooner than expected after the yards in Devonport complete their work in record time. Yet, while the Admiralty plots its revenge, Von Spee urges his admirers in the German colony at Valparaiso in Chile to be wary of the wounded foe. Indeed, while attending a celebratory dinner party, he refuses to drink to the crushing of the enemy and, instead, toasts the bravery and dignity of his adversaries. Moreover, when he is presented with a bouquet of flowers, he wonders how long it might be before a wreath might be more appropriate.

Anticipating a response, Von Spee sets his course for the Falkland Islands in order to seize coal supplies and neutralise the wireless station at Port Stanley. Spotting enemy ships on the horizon, a volunteer force assembles to protect the harbour. However, Sturdee steams into view in the nick of time in early December and makes fake smoke in one of his ships to give Von Spee the impression that the fleet is fully fuelled and ready to counter any landing party dispatched from Gneisnau and Leipzig. Certain that he will be defeated once HMS Kent, Cornwall, Glasgow and Carnarvon are joined by Invincible and Inflexible, Von Spee orders Nurnberg and Leipzig to retire and decides to cut and run for a neutral port. But Sturdee gives chase and Leipzig and Nurnberg are quickly sunk. The crew of the Scharnhorst bail out after it catches fire. But Von Spee goes down with his ship, while the survivors of the Gneisnau are picked up by Sturdee's flagship after they scuttle their vessel.

Fisher receives news of the victory with grim satisfaction rather than triumph and this tone of respect for worthy opponents characterises this meticulous account. Even when shooting in the studio, Summers is careful to have the reflection of rippling water playing on cabin walls to ensure that the human aspects of the story are as authentic as the naval set-pieces. Somewhat disappointingly, he reduces the Falkland reservists to a willing, but inept Dad's Army. But, otherwise, Summers is always mindful of the sensibility of audience members who would still be grieving for fallen heroes. Consequently, there is quiet pride in exploits of the British crews rather than jingoistic triumphalism.

The dramatic interludes (played by an uncredited cast) are serviceable, although they were unusual for the time in focusing on commanders rather than the common man. The close-up of Von Spee realising he has been outflanked and must pay the ultimate price is deeply moving. But the picture's power comes primarily from the footage filmed in the Mediterranean, which benefited greatly from the advice contributed by one Captain Hankow (one of several Germans involved in the project behind and before the camera) and assistant director of Graham Hewett, who had been an officer aboard HMS Vindictive. However, the cinematic highlight is the remarkable shipyard montage, which demonstrates a technical ingenuity and mastery on behalf of Summers and editor Merritt Crawford that reveals the influence fo the depiction of machinery in Abel Gance's La Roue (1922) and the Constructivist potency that Sergei Eisenstein achieved in showing the operation of the engine room in Battleship Potemkin (1925).

Finally, this week, comes Todd Douglas Miller's documentary, Dinosaur 13.

Prior to 1990, only 12 fossilised Tyrannosaurus Rex skeletons had ever been unearthed and few had been more than 40% complete. However, as Miller reveals, this changed when a major discovery was made by the members of the Black Hills Institute in the Ruth Mason Quarry near Faith, South Dakota. The team had been happy to find some Edmontosaurus bones and was all set to head for home to Hill City on 12 August when Peter Larson and Terry Wentz realised that the tyre pump hose on their truck was broken. As they went into town to get it repaired, Susan Hendrickson decided to have a last look around the site and found a couple of bone fragmentss lying on the ground. On looking up, however, she saw a much larger piece protruding from a cliff face and hurried back to inform Larson.

Seeing several large bones on the surface, as well as some articulated vertebrae, Larson was immediately convinced that Hendrickson had found a sizeable T-Rex and called his brother Neal to bring some specialist equipment and a movie camera to chronicle the dig. Within two days, it began to dawn on the team that it had stumbled across a 30ft skeleton. Over the next 17 days, they worked in 115° heat to inch the specimen nicknamed `Sue' (in honour of Hendrickson) out of the ground. Each new section was meticulously recorded on butcher's paper and landowner Maurice Williams watched the operation with genuine fascination. Indeed, he built up such a rapport with Larson that he insisted there was no need to sign formal documents when he accepted $5000 for the bones, which was then the largest sum ever paid for an American dinosaur.

Discovering that Sue was 80% complete, Larson announced that she would be exhibited in a museum that would bring tourists to the Black Hills. Miller films experts Phillip Manning, Philip J. Currie and Vincent Santucci explaining the significance of the find, which Oscar-winning film-maker Louie Pshihoyos claims enabled scientists to get a much firmer grasp on evolution, as they were able to delve deeper into time than they had been before. But Miller is also keen to establish that contemporaries were delighted that Sue was in the care of such a decent man.

Peter Larson had found his first dinosaur tooth at the age of four and spent many hours hunting for samples outside Madison with Neal and their father. They set up their own small museum and founded Black Hills Minerals with Bob Farrar after Peter graduated from the South Dakota School of Mines and Technology. Business was slow, however, and the siblings sold their fossil collection to launch the Black Hills Geological Institute in Hill City in 1979. But nothing could match the discovery of Sue and Lynn Hochstafl, Marion Zenker, Bill Harlan and Marv Matkins recall that the whole town was behind the Larsons in their plan to house her in a purpose-built museum. Some 2000 visitors came to see the skull and learned that Sue had had a tough life, as several bones had been broken and that she had died as a result of her jaw being torn from its socket during a struggle with another creature.

In May 1992, Larson announced that Sue appeared to have curled up as she died, as her skull had fossilised against her pelvis. The delicate process of separating the body parts using specialist lifting tools was filmed amidst great trepidation, as the slightest mistake could have compromised the integrity of the find. Wentz recalls the sense of euphoria when the task was completed. But the triumph proved to be short-lived, as less than a week later (on 14 May), two FBI agents arrived at the Institute at 7am declaring that they had a warrant to seize Sue and all the records relating to her discovery. Peter was accused of having stolen the skeleton from federal land and lawyer Patrick Duffy arrived to see the National Guard cordoning off the area as Acting District Attorney Kevin Schieffer informed the press that he was upholding in the greater good in enforcing the Antiquity Act.

In all, some 30 people participated in the raid, which took three days to complete. Larson and Wentz agreed to co-operate in order to ensure that Sue was not damaged as she was placed in a series of packing crates. But their neighbours were outraged by the confiscation supervised by National Guard officer Harold J. Sykora and Pshihoyos recalls the vehemence of the protest, which he covered for National Geographic. Yet, even as they watched everything they had worked for being taken away, Larson and Wentz remained focused solely on Sue's well-being, as she was transferred to the former's alma mater in Rapid City, some 30 miles away.

In the hope of publicising what he considered to be a theft, Larson contacted Kristin Donnan on NBC's Unsolved Mysteries show and soon news networks across America were reporting the story as a case of heavy-handed governance. However, Williams had informed the federal authorities that he has not sold Sue and claimed still to be its rightful owner. Everyone knew he was a shady character, but there was nothing the Institute could do to challenge him, as they had no signed proof of purchase. Moreover, in 1969, Williams had entrusted the land on which Sue had been found to the US Department of the Interior and, because he was a member of the Cheyenne River Sioux Tribe, this meant that he had to seek permission from the Bureau of Indian Affairs to sell anything found on it.

In fact, Williams had not paid his $100 licence fee and, thus, the government could claim that it had a duty to protect Sue under a complex trust system outlined in the Allotment Acts. Duffy and Donnan concur with lawyer Bruce Ellison and archaeologist Carson Neff Murdy that the fossil had landed in a legal netherworld and preparator Leon Theisen agrees with Larson that Schieffer exploited the situation to gain maximum publicity for himself in order to boost his career prospects.

The Larsons were not alone in feeling cheated, however. The citizens of Hill City were determined to get their dinosaur back and a Sue Freedom Run followed a protest at the 1993 Dakota Days Parade. Moreover, mayor Drue Vitter launched a petition that drew 20,000 signatures from around the world denouncing Schieffer's self-serving motives. But, as a romance began to blossom between Larson and Donnan, two federal courts supported the seizure and Sue remained in the boxes that had now been her home for 229 days. Larson frequently visited her and vowed to free her. But a number of academics launched a backlash against the Black Hills Institute by claiming its members were pirates out solely for commercial gain.

Palaeontologist Robert Bakker tried to counter by affirming that Larson had devoted his life to study and had an excellent reputation for preserving his finds. But this counted for nothing when District Judge Richard Battey delivered his verdict on the ownership of Sue on 3 February 1993. By dismissing the claim of the tribe, he forced the government to withdraw its trust action. But he also ruled that the mineralised bones counted as land that Williams had no right to sell. However, just as Sue was being branded real estate, the IRS Criminal Division instructed agent Keith Nelson to start collecting evidence for a Grand Jury investigation into the Black Hills Institute.

According to Santucci, who was then with the National Parks Service, the IRS had been exploring whether Larson had been taking items illegally from public land since 1985. But the Sue case convinced them to push for a prosecution. Zenker and Vitter accused FBI agent William Ashbury of harassing and victimising Larson, as the feds offered immunity to Hendrickson and Wentz if they testified against their boss. On 19 November, a 39-count indictment listing 153 charges was issued against the Larsons, Farrar, Wentz, the Institute and two of its business associates. Among the crimes claimed by Assistant US Attorney Robert Mandel were the theft of fossils from federal land, money laundering, currency fraud and the making of false statements.

Facing five counts, Wentz insists that Mandel threw as much mud as he could to see what would stick. But, while Neal and Farrar were hit with 38 and 36 charges respectively, Peter was warned that he could be sentenced to 353 years for his 36 citations, which included the transportation of stolen goods, wire fraud and conspiracy to steal. Duffy was determined to keep his clients out of jail and negotiated a plea bargain with Judge Battey. However, as Sue's confinement hit 961 days, Hugh O'Gara wrote about the case in the Rapid City Journal and Battey was so furious that his integrity had been impugned that he ordered a trial, which began on 10 January 1995.

Refusing to disqualify himself, Battey presided over what became the biggest criminal case in South Dakota history, as 600 pieces of evidence were presented and 90 witnesses gave their testimony. IRS agent Nelson agrees that the proceedings were poorly structured and questions the contribution of Utah State Palaeontologist James Madsen, who was summoned to determine the value of the `stolen' fossils so their theft could be classified as a misdemeanour (under $100) or a felony (over $100). Yet, the court undermined its legiticimacy by accepting judgements on items that Madsen had not personally inspected and the Institute team started to fear the worst.

Two of Larson's felony charges relating to transporting cash in excess of $10,000 without declaring it to US Customs. The first sum was to be used to fund a museum in Peru, while the second was for a deal in Japan. Four witnesses testified that Larson had acted honourably in each instance and Duffy was so satisfied that the prosecution had failed to prove its case that he decided against putting Larson on the stand, even though Neal had been cross-examined for three and a half days. The jury retired after a 45-day hearing and took another 18 days to reach its verdict. Juror LaNice Archer reveals that the majority had wanted the entire case dropped for lack of tangible evidence. But Neal was found guilty of one misdemeanour theft and Farrar of twice submitting false customs statements. Peter was convicted of two theft misdemeanours and two instances of illegally transporting currency, while six lesser charges were proved against the Institute.

Three of these were later dropped, along with Farrar's felony raps. But, convinced by elitist academics that commercial fossiling was a shabby business, Battey was bent on making the Larsons pay for the embarrassment he had suffered during the case. So, on 22 January 1996, he gave Neal two years' probation and a $1000 fine and sentenced Peter to two years in prison, as well as a further two years' probation and a $5000 fine for his failure to fill out customs forms. He was granted a month to put his affairs in order before he had to report to Federal Penitentiary ADX Florence in Colorado. Despite being unable to walk because of a broken leg, Larson had his cane confiscated as he entered the facility. However, as he filled out the necessary paperwork, the duty guard informed Larson that he must have really put the judge's nose out of joint to receive such a long term for such a minor offence.

As Larson went inside, Maurice Williams approached David Redden at Sotheby's to arrange for Sue's sale. Suddenly keen to appear concerned about the dinosaur's fate, Williams took his family to her basement and posed for photographs before the crates were shipped to New York and placed in a storage facility until an auction date could be arranged. Larson took solace from the fact that he and Sue were sharing the same fate and Donnan and Psihoyos reveal that he threw himself into giving Saturday morning lectures that earned him the respect of his fellow inmates who recognised that he had been wronged. His model behaviour also impressed the governor and Larson was released into home confinement after 18 months. But, while he was happy to return to the Institute, Donnan laments that he had been scarred by his experience and took some time to relearn how to interact with people.

Larson might have been bowed, but he was far from beaten and he forged an alliance with state senator Stan Adelstein to try and buy Sue for South Dakota. However, when the bidding began on 4 October 1997, their $1.2 million limit was soon exceeded as the asking price leapt to $7.4 million in 29 seconds. Ultimately, the Field Museum of Natural History in Chicago prevailed with a total bid of $8.36 million, which was partially funded by McDonald's and Disney. After Sotheby's took its fee and the US Department of the Interior ratified the sale, Williams received $7.6 million tax free for a piece of trust property that had previously been deemed useless.

Although Donnan felt frustration that such an undeserving clan had profited from Larson's hard work and sacrifice, he insisted that Sue had gone to a good home. It took three years to prepare her for exhibition and Psihoyos denounces the Field crew for not offering Larson a chance to participate in the work. Indeed, he wasn't even invited to the official opening of a space that creditably restored some ferocity to the prehistoric predator rather than presenting her as a cute curio. Larson must have approved as he watched the unveiling as Hendrickson's guest. But, while Sue will forever remain in his heart, he has remained committed to palaeontology and has since found nine more T-Rex specimens. He has also enhanced the status of the Institute's own museum. But, as Miller shows Larson striding out in search of more discoveries, he regrets that his place in history has been compromised and notes in the closing captions that it seems unfair that Hendrickson should have received an honorary PhD from the University of Illinois, while Wentz decided to quit fossiling altogether and the Larsons have continued having to eke out a living.

A final caption notes gleefully that Kevin Schieffer ended up in federal court after he was fired by a railway company in 2009. However, by failing to go into detail about his dealings with the Dakota, Minnesota and Eastern Railroad, this seems to be a cheap shot that is unworthy of inclusion in an otherwise excellent account of a wholly dispiriting incident. Working from Peter Larson's memoir, Miller (who also serves as his own editor) settles for a standard actuality format in cross-cutting between archive material and talking heads. But, even though objectivity is often at a premium and some of the re-enactments feel more than a little manipulative, Miller tells his tale with an assurance and cogency that will soon have audiences cheering on the underdog, as several sledgehammers are employed to crack a relatively small nut.

Although their absence is somewhat inevitable, the film might have benefited from some input from Schieffer, Battey or a representative of the Williams family. But, with Matt Morton's score championing the Larson cause with as much eloquence as his friends and supporters, there appears little doubt that anything they might have said would probably have been turned against them. Even Thomas Peterson's views of the Badlands are used to make the Institute crew seem small against the unforgiving landscape. Yet, while this may only just stop short of propaganda, it remains utterly compelling and there is no doubting either Larson's scholastic sincerity or his devotion to Sue.