Parky at the Pictures (In Cinemas 17/11/2016)

It certainly comes as no surprise to learn that Weinreb and Kazda graduated from the FAMU film school that set the likes of Milos Foman on the way to greatness. But their existentialist account of the life and crime of the last woman to be executed in Czechoslovakia owes much to the expertise of Roman Cilek, as the screenplay was based on his study of Olga Hepnarová, who went to the gallows at the age of 23 on 12 March 1975.

Ignoring a wake-up call from her doctor mother (Klára Melísková), 13 year-old Olga Hepnarová (Michalina Olszanska) rushes into the bathroom to vomit before shuffling slowly along the hallway and into a side room. The camera maintains a static forward glare before Olga's father (Viktor Vrabec) emerges with a guilty look on his face. No wonder, therefore, that Olga attempts suicide with some pills. But he mother taunts her that she lacks the strength of character to kill herself and has Olga committed to an asylum. She is ignored by the other girls until they beat her for warning against trying to get into her bed. A male orderly advises her to stop reading sombre tomes by the likes of Franz Kafka and Albert Camus, but she ignores him and starts keeping a journal in which she records her darkest thoughts and her sense of disappointment with the world.

On being released after several years, Olga has a celebration lunch with her parents and sister (Zuzana Stavná). But she continues to feel like an outsider and asks if she can move into the family's ramshackle hut, which is close to the plant where she is hired as a driver. Her co-workers refuse to help her lug tyres on to the garage shelves and she can barely bring herself to queue for her wages alongside them. However, she is instantly smitten when an office clerk named Jitka (Marika Soposká) pushes her way to the front of the line and struts off counting her money.

Mother comes to visit and brings Olga a gas stove. But they argue over an invitation to come home for the winter and Olga castigates her mother for interfering in her life. Emboldened by the row, Olga introduces herself to Jitka and they go to a bar together. While Jitka gets the drinks, Olga ventures on to the dance floor and unbuttons her blouse while flirting with a stranger. Jitka is amused and they kiss passionately as they sway to the music.

Such is her sense of exaltation that Olga (who is always so surly and intense) doesn't mind locking herself out. But she is hurt to discover that Jitka is living with a single mother and sulks when another friend takes her along to a campfire party and she slinks away to a nearby shop to buy salami and wine. She also drives too fast when giving a pregnant workmate a lift. Yet, when she invites Jitka to supper, they end up snuggling on the single bed before Olga pleasures Jikta against the wall of her tiny shack. The moment means so much to her that she offers Jitka the hut, in the hope that she will move in. But Jitka feels guilty about cheating on her lover and tells Olga that it is hard to be turned on by someone who always wears trousers and smells so strongly of oil.

Jitka still spends the night, but is disturbed to wake and find a naked Olga standing over her and threatening to commit suicide if they break up. She begs Olga to leave her alone when she camps out on her doorstep and Olga is so distraught by her loss that she drives down a flight of stairs when a lorry blocks her way and she is threatened with disciplinary action unless she undergoes a psychiatric evaluation. Her mother demands to see her and a nurse off screen informs Olga that she would be better off hanging herself than bringing shame upon such a fine physician.

With her stove broken, Olga huddles in bed when not dashing into the rain to hang out her washing. She looks into the camera and declares herself to be an enlightened psycho, who will make people pay for their laughter and her tears. But she steels herself to pick up a stranger in a bar and also accepts the friendship of Miroslav (Martin Pechlát) when he stops to ask if she is having any problems with her truck. They go drinking together and he tells her about his abusive upbringing. Glad to have a sympathetic ear, Olga visits a psychiatrist and confides that she doesn't like or understand people and is content of dwelling in the margins.

Olga decides to buy a car and tries to sell the shack to raise some funds. When her mother pays a call, she asks about the identity of her real father. But her mother merely humours her and they don't see each other for a while after Olga moves into a company dormitory and befriends Alena (Marta Mazurek). They hold hands as they walk along the corridor, but Olga can't keep her eyes off a passenger's skirt hemline when she offers her a lift in her new car. Yet her failure to find love prompts Olga to ask a psychiatrist if he would be able to help find her a lesbian partner, as she is convinced that stability would do wonders for her psychological well-being.

Despite seeming to have settled into her new surroundings, Olga takes to her bed and Miroslav takes her to see his doctor friend. He refuses to treat a patient who is not on his books, however, and dismisses Olga's contention that she needs to check into an asylum by suggesting that she takes a holiday. Miroslav tries to help by taking Olga to camp in the countryside. But the rain lashes down as they try to erect the tent and Olga barely says a word as they huddle together under the canvas.

Skiving off work, Olga asks her mother for some tablets to help her sleep and to cure her tonsillitis. She writes a long letter explaining how years of mistreatment had turned her into a `Prügelknab' or a victim of bullying who has been exploited more callously than `a black American'. In conclusion, Olga announces that she is going to kill her tormentors and that society will have no one to blame but itself for failing her. Pulling the covers over Alena, she finishes her breakfast and posts the letters before climbing into the cab of her truck on 10 July 1973 and ploughing through the 20 people waiting at a Prague tram stop.

Onlookers crowd around the vehicle, as Olga puts her bag on her shoulder and informs the policeman who opens the driver door that she had not had an accident, as she had every intention of murdering as many people as she could. Ultimately, eight citizens lost their lives and Olga's family sit at the dinner table with a sense of shame that she could commit such a wilful act and dread that she might let slip a few secrets during her interrogation.

Olga shows no emotion when he mother visits and fights back the tears as she hands a gift over the table. Her advocate (Juraj Nvota) is also surprised by her lack of remorse and tries to make her see that evil should not be repaid in kind, no matter how much she may feel that she has been betrayed by God and humanity. Insisting that she is the victim in all this, Olga claims that she simply ran out of the superhuman strength that had prevented her from lashing out before. She orders the lawyer not to plead insanity, as she wishes to die for her deed. But he can feel the pain that she has endured and wishes to protect Olga from herself.

As the judge (Jan Novotny) listens to compensation claims from some of those affected by the incident, Olga stares inscrutably ahead. She remains unperturbed as the clerk declares that she drove 31 metres along the pavement before applying the brake. Olga insists that she was standing up for Prügelknabs everywhere by drawing attention to the brutality that they have been forced to withstand by a society that invariably turns a blind eye. She also avers that she had to commit such a monstrous crime to address the problem of domestic violence and ensure that it doesn't happen to others.

When her lawyer claims in summation that Olga is suffering from schizophrenia, she waives the right to an appeal and requests the death penalty. Her composure disappears, however, when her mother comes to the prison and Olga flies at her across the table and has to be restrained. She is back on an even keel when she sees another psychiatrist, but surprises him when she avows that she is the daughter of Oto Winifer, who holds an important position at the Vatican. Olga reveals that they speak all the time and that he has promised to rescue her and warned her not to trust the Hepnarová side of her personality.

Nothing more is said of this interview, however, as Olga is called from her cell a short time later and pinned against the wall by two burly male officers to be handcuffed. Realising that she is making her final walk, Olga begins to scream and tries to hold on to the bannister. She is bundled down the metal steps and is next seen dangling above a trap door, as the witnesses to her execution drift away. That night, mother serves soup to her husband and daughter in complete silence.

Starkly photographed by Adam Sikora with a monochrome bleakness that is wholly commensurate with Alexander Kozák's oppressive interiors and the linear inevitability of the narrative, this is a remarkably non-committal reconstruction of the key moments in Olga Hepnarová's wasted life. Scrupulously avoiding interpretation, Weinreb and Kazda present their version of the facts without seeking to excuse or apportion blame. But, like the condemnation of capital punishment, it's hard to escape the bestial nature of the patriarchal Communist state, as Olga slips through so many nets that might have averted tragedy.

With her bobbed hair, masculine attire and saturnine intensity, Polish actress Michalina Olszanska excels in the title role. However, the reliance on her stock mannerisms makes her difficult to read, especially in some of the linking scenes that appear to offer clues in spite of their seeming inconsequentiality. The exchanges with Klára Melísková and Martin Pechlát are particularly frustrating in this regard, as Dr Hepnarová nor Miroslav are as much ciphers as Marika Soposká, whose shabby treatment of Olszanska does as much to tip her over the edge as anything she suffered at home.

In truth, the formal rigour can be a little stultifying, while the economy that makes the depiction of Olga's adolescence so chillingly compelling is sometimes absent between the split with Jitka and the massacre. But this is a fine evocation of a time and a place, with the staging of both the crime and its punishment leaving a deeper impact because of their understated banality.

Working with Romanian cinematographer Oleg Mutu, Tomasz Wasilewski seeks to recapture the mood of a Poland on the cusp of breaking free from its Warsaw Pact restraints in United States of Love. The title is bitingly ironic, as the consumerist wave that surged east after the collapse of the Berlin Wall brought an illusory happiness and emphasised the divisions that had always existed in a supposedly classless society. Some have complained that Wasilewski exhibits a degree of chauvinism by defining his female quartet by the quality of their love lives. But his insights reflect the state of a nation that is still disorientated after waking from a nightmare.

Wasilewski introduces his characters during a dinner party thrown by Marta Nieradkiewicz, an aerobics teacher with ambitions to become a model whose husband has taken advantage of the relaxed travel restrictions to take a well-paid job in West Germany. She feels abandoned, despite the steady stream of food parcels, and envies her friend Julia Kijowska, who runs the local video library and seems settled in her marriage to factory worker Lukasz Simla. As the guests chatter and toast each other, Nieradkiewicz's older sister, Magdalena Cielecka, arrives. She is headmistress of the town school and feels she deserves better than the high-rise estate on which her sister lives in a building seemingly designed to facilitate snooping on the other residents.

Having set his scene, Wasilewski concentrates on individual tales involving the three women, while keeping Nieradkiewicz's Russian teacher neighbour Dorota Kolak on the margins before she also takes her turn in the spotlight. His focus falls first on Kijowska, who is tired of Simla having to be undressed for bed because he is so drunk and needing to have his neck shaved in the bath. She puts up with his sexual advances, but teenage daughter Malgorzata Majerska is becoming increasingly upset by her frostiness at mealtimes.

Nodding at Cielecka at a funeral service at the small Catholic church, Kolak pursues her obsession with curate Lech Lotoki. Yet, when he comes to bless their apartment, Kijowska feels embarrassed by her feelings and hides away from him. Simla is perplexed by her actions. But Kijowska is left reeling when Lotoki delivers a sermon about love that seems to be aimed directly at her and she pulls her hand away when Simla tries to be kind to her over supper. He pours himself a drink and Kijowska asks why he always seeks refuge in alcohol, to which he responds that he only started boozing when she became so frigid.

Cocooned in misery, Kijowska goes to the church and sneaks into the parochial house where she sees Lotoki naked in the shower. She rushes home, wakes Simla and straddles him with a desperation that he accepts without comprehension.

Having made copies of a porn film that Nieradkiewicz found on a videotaped message from her husband, Kijowska has been doing a brisk trade. Among her customers is doctor Andrzej Chyra, who has just lost his wife. For the past six years, he has been having an affair with Cielecka, who has risked her status in the community to be at his beck and call. She stands at the back during the requiem service and meets Chyra on some wasteland away from the estate. They go back to her place to make love. But Chyra leaves while Cielecka is still asleep and she becomes so concerned after not hearing from him for several days that she goes to his surgery.

He claims to be busy and promises to see her when he returns from a business trip. However, she bumps into him when he comes to collect teenage daughter Julia Chetnicka from Nieradkiewicz's dance class. Once again, he has an excuse and invites her to lunch. But Chyra fails to show and Cielecka shows up at his apartment while he is entertaining his in-laws. He assures her that they can meet at the café the following day. However, he exploits the fact they are in a public place to break up with Cielecka in the safe knowledge she will not make a scene. Despite her outward composure, she is distraught having made so many sacrifices since becoming his mistress. But Chyra insists that he feels guilty at carrying on an affair when he should be protecting Chetnicka.

Blaming the girl for her father's cowardice, Cielecka puts a photograph of them together in Chetnicka's bag and Chyra bursts into Cielecka's apartment and punches her in the face her spiteful action. When she protests that she can't live without him, Chyra opens the window and tells her to jump. Suddenly realising the nature of the man she has wasted so much emotion and energy upon, Cielecka crumbles in a corner, as he threatens to kill her if she comes near his family again. As she studies at Cielecka's school, however, Chetnicka trusts her and accepts a lift home. But, during a heated discussion (that is filmed in a silent long shot), Chetnicka takes offence and hastens off across a frozen pond, only to fall through a hole in the ice.

Chetnicka had been one of the better pupils in Kolak's Russian poetry class. But, with the change of political climate, Cielecka decides to add English to the curriculum and offers Kolak early retirement. She asks her to stay on until the new teacher arrives and Kolak agrees before hurrying home to the flat she shares with her pet birds. However, she is also keen to catch Nieradkiewicz, with whom she has been obsessed since she moved in across the landing. They never exchange more than a friendly nod, but Kolak tries to enrol for one of Nieradkiewicz's water therapy sessions and buys a new bathing cap, even though the class is full.

Drifting through her last days at the school, Kolak eavesdrops on Nieradkiewicz's keep fit class at the sports centre and tries to catch her eye at the café when she lunches with Cielecka. Eventually, she stages a fall on the stairs so that Nieradkiewicz will help her back to her flat. She is taken aback when the younger woman helps her change into clean clothes and accepts an invitation to supper (even though she is put out by the birds landing on the table). But Nieradkiewicz feels sorry for Kolak and agrees to give her a private aqua session at the pool. Moreover, she dances with Kolak when she watches her teaching a bride and groom how to waltz in time for their wedding.

Yet, Kolak is nettled when Nieradkiewicz is too busy to talk when she arrives home in a hurry. She goes back inside and rearranges the crockery on the table, while hoping that Nieradkiewicz will drop in. But she is being photographed by Michal Grzybowski, who has convinced her that she has the potential to become a model. He plies her with champagne and gets her so tipsy that she passes out at the end of the shoot. Dragging her to the bedroom, he strips her and ejaculates on her before skulking away.

Initially annoyed that Nieradkiewicz has been alone with a man, Kolak decides to check up on her and is dismayed to see her comatose and naked on the bed. Fetching a bowl of water, Kolak washes Nieradkiewicz before sitting beside her and holding her hand against her face. She returns to her apartment to recline nude on the sofa. When she wakes up, Nieradkiewicz vomits into the bowl and curls up in a regretful ball on the floor.

There's something a little gimmicky about a visual design that prioritises symbolic colours within a bleached out design. But the eye is drawn to the green of Lotocki's chasuble, the red of Cielecka's lipstick, the exotic hues of Kolak's birds and the black of Nieradkiewicz's dress, as Wasilewski and Mutu seek relief from the all-encompassing bleakness that is everyday reality for characters who drift in and out of each other's lives with a Kieslowskian insouciance that links the four storylines. Marcel Slawinski and Katarzyna Sobanska-Strzalkowska's production design is also crucial in this regard, as it contrasts the shabbiness of Kijowska's video store, the austerity of Cielecka's study and the verdant eccentricity of Kolak's nest.

Kijowska rather disappears after her vignette. But, even though we learn little about her, Nieradkiewicz remains a constant presence, as she shuttles between classes and offers solace to Cielecka and Kolak. Her fate seems particularly cruel, considering her selflessness. Yet it's foretold in the porn clip that she has no qualms about Kijowska pirating for profit. Moreover, it remains open ended, as Wasilewski avoids neat resolutions in order to prompt viewers into speculating what awaits the quartet, with Cielecka's fate after the pond incident being the most intriguing.

Gripped by self-destructive fury, she contributes the most imposing performance, although Kolak is quietly effective as the lonely lesbian who is left with her birds and her fixation with Nieradkiewicz after her world comes tumbling down. Her love of Russian poetry and penchant for people watching suggests she might once have been in the pay of the Party or has she simply had her spirit so crushed by the system that she can only express her feelings covertly? But the political subtext remains elusive, as Wasilewski lingers on the problems being posed by a transition that has been a decade in the making since the rise of Solidarity.

Just as Kieslowski's imprint is evident in our first two films, the influence of co-producer Carlos Reygadas is also clear on Mexican Emiliano Rocha Minter's recklessly perplexing debut, We Are the Flesh. Echoes of compatriot Jorge Michel Grau's We Are What We Are (2010) can also be heard throughout an unrelenting bid to shock the audiences and overwhelm its senses, as Minter employs Caligari-like sets and highly stylised lighting and format shifts to convey the seething excesses of a society with little or no time for those isolated on its margins.

There's little hint of the depravity to come in the opening sequence, as bedraggled vagrant Noé Hernández lugs a bundle on his back and starts pouring ingredients into a still that he keeps in an abandoned building in an unnamed Mexican city. He smashes a table for firewood and luxuriates in the feel of the mulch between his fingers. Eventually, he pours some of the liquid on the floor and ignites it with a lighter. He places a bottle of this homemade gas on a small trolley, which he pushes through a hole in the floor and he is rewarded with a large carton of eggs.

Treating himself to a slug of potion from a pipette, Hernández falls into a deep sleep and wakes to bang a drum while the camera performs a 360° axis turn that is cross-cut with shots of Hernández smashing objects in his lair before passing out with the drum on his head. He is found in this state by youths Maria Evoli and Diego Gamaliel, who smash through a trap door and wander round their new surroundings with a hooch-fuelled sense of wonder. They drag Hernández to a bed, which Evoli uses as a trampoline until their puckish host wakes and fixes them some eggs.

He agrees to let them stay, but locks them in their room and Gamaliel tries to convince Evoli to leave. But she is intrigued by the older man and readily helps him erect a wooden structure whose joints are bound together with masking tape. She asks Hernández if has always been alone and he gives her an elaborate answer that culminates in a confession that he has surrendered himself to the charms of Solitude, as she enabled him to face his darkest fears.

While Evoli warms to Hernández and develops a secret code involving wetting her forefinger on her tongue, Gamaliel remains suspicious. Tired of eating eggs and sticking down cardboard boxes over the wooden frame, he steals the pipette. Hernández continues to goad him and mocks him for having an unrequited lust for Evoli, even though she is his sister. She also teases him about his long eyelashes and tries to kiss him as they rest in her sleeping space.

But Hernández runs out of patience with Gamaliel and orders him to eat his steak at suppertime, even though he has already told him he is vegetarian. He does as he is told when Evoli begins foaming at the mouth and Hernández insists he will only give her an antidote to the poison she has ingested if Gamaliel cleans his plate and returns the pipette. Fighting down his revulsion, Gamaliel guzzles the meat as Evoli goes into a twitching fit. But Hernández brings her back from the brink with a sadistic grin.

Troubled with insomnia, Hernández starts babbling about gas and cities and wanders into the cardboard chamber, which is glowing with a ruddy orange light. He invokes the spirit of his mother and curses her for bringing him into this hellish world before picking up the slumbering Evoli and promising her that they will live in a glorious isolation that will allow them to be reborn. Cackling with malice, he accuses Gamaliel of lacking the courage to sleep with his sister and he orders them to remove their white overalls and stand naked in front of each other.

Hernández tells Evoli to fellate Gamaliel and, as though in a trance, she kneels before him. When she looks up, however, she sees Hernández leering down at her. Yet she continues to obey him and lies down passively, as the aroused Gamaliel stands over her. A sudden shift to thermal imaging is accompanied by a glutinous pop song as Gamaliel penetrates his sister. This view lasts for a couple of minutes, as the passion and intensity of the coupling is intensified by the lurid colour scheme. But the previous perspective is restored as Hernández begins to pleasure himself, while spouting platitudes about love.

Such is the force of his ejaculation that Evoli and Gamaliel convince themselves that Hernández is dead. They drag his body into their room and haul their mattress into the master bedroom, where Evoli annoys her brother by rolling into him off a cardboard incline. She rummages through Hernández's meagre belongings and finds a tattered snapshot of what she presumes to be his mother. But she remains bored and coats herself in oil in a bid to seduce Gamaliel, who pushes her away before sidling off to masturbate in the corridor while fantasising about his sister.

Some time later, Gamaliel wakes to find Evoli lying beside him. She demands to know how much he loves her and straddles him to drip menstrual blood on to his tongue. He acquiesces as she declares that there is no such thing as love, only demonstrations of love. Seemingly in a daze, Evoli wanders naked through the building and uses her fingers as a gun to shoot the diminutive woman from the photograph. She sits on a ledge in the cardboard chamber as the light changes to red and, as the camera glides through a 360° pan, Gamaliel is shown sitting in a yonic alcove before the scene cuts to close-ups of the siblings' genitals.

Evoli wakes wearing Hernández's helmet and she mounts his corpse in an effort to reanimate him. Muttering that it's impossible to look steadily at the sun and death, she traipses into the corridor to urinate. On returning to the side room, she caresses Hernández's corpse and is horrified, after stepping outside for a while, to discover that it has disappeared. As she rushes to inform Gamaliel, a blue light fills the room and a clean-shaven Hernández bursts through a cardboard wall and rolls across the floor in a puddle of amniotic fluid. Struggling to his feet, Hernández begins to grin and gyrate to a pop song. Overjoyed at his resurrection, Evoli straddles him and makes him promise never to leave them alone again. He claims they are now a family and even Gamaliel joins in the group hug.

In order to celebrate, they venture into the wider world to abduct soldier Gabino Rodríguez, who is brought bound and gagged into the hideout. Hernández uses the pipette to tend to what looks like a bullet wound in Gamaliel's temple before turning his attention to the hostage. He reassures Rodríguez that he has been chosen by Chance (whom he describes as the biggest criminal in history), as ideology, pleasure and revenge are unworthy motives for slaughter. Rodríguez struggles as Hernández explains that he wants his blood, flesh and precious bodily fluids and takes the opportunity to scream when his gag is removed. But he calms down as they sing the national anthem and meekly accepts having his throat cut and Evoli strokes his hair as gore cascades into a bowl.

As Evoli feeds the blood to the recuperating Gamaliel, Hernández makes a pulp out of the innards. He is disturbed when Evoli arrives with María Cid, who has been lured into the den by the promise of food. Evoli forces her to drink from the pipette to suppress her appetite and begins kissing her. Against her instincts, Cid starts to respond as Evoli undresses her. But she resists as Gamaliel takes over from his sister, who begins to masturbate with a frenzy that sees her body seem to distort before she looks up to see an unfamiliar face and screams.

A leering Hernández jokes that this `is not your average party' as he welcomes the guests celebrating his name day. He announces that he wishes them to consume his body and an orgy ensues to the accompaniment of Bach's `Harpsichord Concerto in F Minor' before Hernández is decapitated and his bleeding head is held up for everyone to see. The stranger who disturbed Evoli's reverie proceeds to sing `Happy Birthday' to his host before the debauchery resumes.

The following morning, a bearded reveller wakes and disentangles himself from the naked bodies around him. He picks his way along the corridors and finds a door into the eye-burningly bright daylight. Taking a moment to re-orientate himself, the man heads along a busy road into the heart of the town, where people go about their quotidian business, oblivious to the carnage taking place in their midst.

There is much to commend about this astonishingly bold debut, with the technical contributions of cinematographer Yollotl Alvarado, production designer Manuela Garcia and sound editor Javier Umpierrez being particularly notable. Composer Esteban Aldrete's pounding score and the eclectic song selection also stand out, as Emiliano Rocha Minter concocts a new brand of body horror that matches the most confrontational efforts of Andrzej Zulawski and Gaspar Noé. No wonder Alfonso Cuarón and Alejandro Gonzalez Iñarritu have been so quick to applaud their countryman.

But it's trickier to pin down precisely what Minter is trying to say with this sensory assault on so many cinematic taboos. In one interview, he claimed to be `interested in the concept of the cave, the return to animality, a cave that's not only the uterus but someone's skull'. But, while he makes the characters occupy such a setting, the meaning of their descent into a primal state remains elusive and it often seems as though Minter is using his specious scenario as an excuse to outrage the audience while conducting some intrepid formal experiments.

The abrupt cut to heat-detection imagery as Evoli and Gamaliel consummate their lust is eye-catchingly innovative. But the aesthetic audacity and the courage of the performances are insufficient in themselves. Feeling like an exile from an Alejandro Jodorowsky picture, Hernández makes a magnificently malignant sprite, as he combines the messianic and the diabolical in tempting the interlopers into disregarding their moral boundaries. Yet many of the explicit incidents that occur within the psychedelic cavern seem self-consciously provocative. Thus, this is less a `despairing, passionate call to murder', like Luis Buñuel and Salvador Dalí's Un Chien andalou (1928), and more a designerly transgressive dig at the complacent and easily offended.

Fellow debutant Sean Spencer opts against trying to re-invent the medium in Panic, a London-based thriller whose initial debts to Alfred Hitckcock's Rear Window (1954) and Curtis Hanson's The Bedroom Window (1987) give way to a condemnation of people trafficking and the sex trade. Evidently filmed on a limited budget, this makes effective use of its Tottenham locations and is well played by its capable leads. But the surfeit of incidental characters clutters a storyline lacking in tangible suspense and, as a result, this never builds on its intriguing premise.

Music journalist David Gyasi has been working from his high-rise apartment since an incident at a gig left him badly injured and agoraphobic. He continues to conduct interviews by phone and editor Cristian Solimeno keeps him busy with album reviews. But Gyasi is reluctant to venture back into the world, especially as he has become obsessed with Yennis Cheung, a Chinese girl who lives in the opposite tower block. He uses binoculars to spy on her as she flits about her apartment and keeps an eye on her as she sleeps. Yet, when she seems to catch sight of him one evening, Gyasi becomes rooted to the spot and is only roused from his fearful reverie by the doorbell.

He is surprised to see Pippa Nixon on the step and fetches beers while remembering that they had arranged a date through the PlayNaughty website. She browses through his record collection and lets slip that she works in a gallery after spotting an art poster on his wall. Small talk over, they have sex and Nixon is mooching around the apartment when she notices the binoculars.

Just as she is about to tease Gyasi for being a voyeur, however, she sees a burly Chinese man attack Cheung before drawing the blinds. Gyasi wants to call the police, but Nixon doesn't want to get involved with anything that might impact upon her regular life. Thus, as he didn't witness the assault, Gyasi is forced to hang up and let Nixon disappear into the night.

When the blinds remain closed throughout the following day, Gyasi gulps down some anxiety pills and steels himself to go outside. A speeding Porsche roars around the corner as he approaches the kerb and Gyasi scurries back indoors to fetch a claw hammer. Following a resident through the front door, he uses the tool to prise open to door to Cheung's flight. He sees signs of a struggle and goes through her mail in the hope of finding some clues. Many of the letters are addressed to different names, while one contains a family photograph.

Having fended off Solimeno on the phone, Gyasi goes to one of the addresses he found and follows Rebecca Yeo when she refuses to answer his questions. However, when he snoops around the parked Porsche, he is knocked cold with a single blow and wakes to find Jason Wong standing over him with a hot iron. But, after he tells his story, Wong seems satisfied that Gyasi has stumbled across his premises and offers him a lift home.

Still feeling the effects of the punch, Gyasi wakes on the sofa next morning and decides to track down Nixon. He finds her gallery, but also discovers that she is married and has too much to lose to get involved with Cheung's kidnapping. Refusing to give up, Gyasi goes to the Golden Crown takeaway whose menu he found in the flat and Vera Chok reveals that she is an illegal migrant indebted to the people who brought her to Britain. She begs Gyasi to help her former roommate and he quizzes Chike Chan at one of her old addresses. Reluctantly, he introduces her to Cheung's ex-boyfriend, Orion Lee, who explains that she was paying off her debts to the smugglers by posing as a rich student to lure unsuspecting Chinese girls into lodging with her so they could be held to ransom.

Chan pulls a knife on Gyasi when he asks too many questions. But Wong is more accommodating, as his outfit is in direct competition with the gang holding Cheung. He gives Gyasi an address and warns him to be careful, as they are ruthless thugs. However, Gyasi finds himself with an unexpected accomplice, as Nixon's conscience gets the better of her and she agrees to help.

They go to the premises in a shady side street and Gyasi confronts the man who snatched Cheung by his car. A struggle ensues and Gyasi hits the smuggler with his hammer and races to find Nixon. They lay low in a café, where she admits to enjoying uncomplicated pleasure with strangers and he tells her about the night he was attacked and his fixation with Cheung. She finds his spying distasteful, but agrees to come to the Ambassadors Club, where he thinks she is being forced to work as a masseuse.

Posing as a punter, Gyasi goes to a private room with Suni La and asks her if she knows Cheung. She is too frightened to talk. So, Gyasi goes from room to room looking for Cheung and scares her client away when he bursts in to rescue her. However, the delay caused by explaining who he is gives bouncer Brett Allen time to charge into the room with a baseball bat. Gyasi pulls the gun he stole from the kidnapper, but loses it in a struggle and he is grateful to Nixon for rescuing him by holding a shard of broken glass to Allen's throat. Cheung runs away and Gyasi is distraught at losing her again. But, in compensation, Nixon suggests that this might be the start of a beautiful friendship.

Bearing a marked resemblance to the kind of monochrome B movie churned out in the 1950s by the likes of Butcher's and Merton Park, this is a proficient and sometimes stylish thriller that makes the most of David Gyasi's admirable portrayal of an accidental hero. He is sterlingly supported by Pippa Nixon, whose addiction to thrills prompts her to risk her cosy existence to help him.

But Spencer never solves the problem of making us care for the mysterious stranger with whom the housebound Gyasi has become besotted. Moreover, he fails to place Nixon in any kind of peril (as Hitchcock did with Grace Kelly in Rear Window) and allows Gyasi to wriggle out of tight corners as effortlessly as he pieces together the puzzle from the scraps found in Cheung's apartment. Compounding this twistless linearity is the fact that Gyasi has little difficulty in besting a dastardly global organisation whose oppos are easily mugged by a recovering agoraphobic and an adulterous gallery owner. But Spencer directs steadily and achieves a fine sense of place, courtesy of Carl Burke's crisp photography.

On 22 June 2016, The Stooges broke up. It had happened before, but it seems unlikely that it will ever happen again and, thus, the timing of Jim Jarmusch's Gimme Danger, could not have been much better or worse. Missing the ending of the saga by a couple of months is not the main drawback of this documentary tribute, however. As a self-confessed fanatic, Jarmusch is too much in thrall of Iggy Pop and his bandmates to present their story from any other perspective than their own. Consequently, while this contains plenty of priceless footage and the odd decent anecdote, there is no objective analysis of the combo's strengths and weaknesses or the magnitude of its legacy. Moreover, there is little of the sense of stylistic danger that made Iggy and The Stooges so pivotal in the evolution of rock`n'roll.

Starting with the band's first break-up in 1973, Jarmusch rewinds to show Jim Osterberg growing up in a trailer in Ann Arbor, Michigan. Despite its clichéd sociological connotations, he clearly loved living in a confined space (especially as Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz had done so in Vincente Minnelli's The Long, Long Trailer, 1953) and remains fondly indebted to the parents who gave up the master bedroom to accommodate his drum kit. He grew up on Howdy Doody and Soupy Sales, whose rule on fan letters being no more than 25 words long prompted the brevity that would later characterise his songwriting. But he quickly knew he wanted to be a musician after being seduced by the mega-clang of a steam hammer at a Detroit metal mill.

In 1965, Jim formed a high-school group named The Iguanas and perched himself high above the stage on a giant drum riser. However, their big gig on the end of the local pier came to an early end when the structure started to collapse under the crowd. After dropping out of college, he joined The Prime Movers and acquired the nickname Iggy. However, he soon struck out on his own and decamped to Chicago play as a freelancer with a number of blues performers. But, while he learned a lot musically, Iggy also picked up the secret of life from people who, in their adulthood, had not lost their childhood.

Having realised he was not black or a drummer, the 19 year-old Iggy returned to Ann Arbor and formed The Psychedelic Stooges with brothers Ron and Scott Asheton and Dave Alexander, who had belonged to a notional combo named The Dirty Shames. Half a century later, he admits they weren't much good and tells an amusing story about curing marijuana in a washing-machine. But they stuck with it and, while picking up British invasion influences from his bandmates, Iggy continued his musical education while working at Discount Records, where he immersed himself in the avant-garde sounds of Harry Partch, Link Wray, Duane Eddy and John Coltrane. He also saw the likes of Robert Ashley, Cathy Berberian, Luciano Berio, John Cage and Morton Feldman at the University of Michigan's famous Once Festival.

Sharing a house as `true Communists', the foursome began building instruments and experimenting with styles and Iggy insists that `Asthma Attack' is essentially a free form composition. So eclectic were their influences that they also did cover versions like `She Cried' by Jay and the Americans with Iggy performing in white face and trying to provoke the crowd. But the missing piece of their sound was provided by MC5, an alternative band from Detroit who let them play on the undercard at their gigs before taking them to Chicago to gig at the 1968 Democratic Convention. However, Iggy didn't feel The Psychedelic Stooges were a political band and they went their separate ways.

With Ron on guitar, Dave on bass and Scott on drums, Iggy leapt around with a combination of fury and exuberance that became his trademark. They were spotted playing at the student union by Danny Fields, who signed them to Elektra for $5000 on the same day he signed MC5 for $20,000. Following a phone call to Moe Howard (of The Three Stooges) to clear a name change, The Stooges went to New York for their self-titled debut album, which was produced by John Cale of The Velvet Underground (Iggy claims he and Nico resembled Morticia and Gomez from The Addams Family). Originally, it was scheduled to contain four songs - `I Wanna Be Your Dog', `No Fun', `1969' and `Ann' - but they realised these expanded improvisations were not commercial enough and wrote a clutch of three-minute rock songs at the Chelsea Hotel the day before they were recorded.

Frustratingly, the album failed to sell outside Michigan and, in accusing the record business of `cultural treason', Iggy claims that manufactured Peace Movement pop was promoted instead of their punkish innovation. In 1970, they went to Los Angeles to make Fun House. Saxophonist Steve Mackay was added to the strength `to play like Maceo Parker on acid' and they enjoyed the experience of working at a steady pace. But Iggy was having adventures of his own, as John Wayne shouted abuse at him from a black Cadillac for wearing a red studded dog collar on the street. They also gigged at the Whiskey A Go Go and The Fillmore in San Francisco, where Iggy performed without a shirt (like Yul Brynner's Pharaoh in Cecil B. De Mille's The Ten Commandments, 1956) and seemingly started the vogue for crowd surfing (although he broke his front tooth the first time he tried it, as the front row parted like the Red Sea).

However, the band also got into drugs and Jarmusch tinkers with the image's vertical hold to suggest the disorientation that Iggy felt after one binge before going on stage at a festival with Rod Stewart and The Faces. Dave Alexander was also struggling to cope with fame, but he was fired in 1971 because his alcoholism made him so unreliable (although this is not made explicit in the film) and he joined the 27 Club in February 1975.

Zeke Zettner and Jimmy Recca played base at various times in 1971 as The Stooges tried to steady the ship. Bill Cheatham was also added as a second guitarist before James Williamson joined up. But, around this time, Iggy and others got hooked on heroin and Scott Asheton smashed up the tour bus when he drove into a low bridge. To make matters worse, Elektra boss William S. Harvey rejected the proposed tracks for a third album and, so, Iggy disbanded the group and returned home to clean up his act with the help of a sympathetic Ann Arbor pharmacist.

In 1972, Iggy met David Bowie and his manager, Tony DeFries, who brought him to London for an unspecified project. Unhappy with the contract and the session musicians being mooted, Iggy demanded that Williamson and the Ashetons were flown over for what became the Raw Power sessions. But Columbia dropped The Stooges following poor sales and when DeFries fired Iggy `for moral turpitude', the band fell apart again in 1974. Iggy and Williamson, however, teamed up shortly afterwards for the Kill City album. But this was shelved for two years and, while Iggy rejoined Bowie in London, Williamson studied engineering and spent the next 27 years in Silicon Valley.

Meanwhile, Ron found refuge with New Order and Destroy All Monsters, while Scott wound up with Sonic's Rendezvous Band before taking a series of `crummy' jobs. While they struggled, bands like The Ramones, The Dead Boys, The Dictators, The Sex Pistols, The Damned and Sonic Youth followed in their footsteps in helping `wipe out the Sixties'. But The Stooges weren't quite done yet, as the success of Todd Haynes's Velvet Goldmine (1998) prompted J. Mascis and Mike Watt to tour in 2000 with the Ashetons and play some Stooges songs in their set. After three years on the road, Iggy reunites with the brothers for the Skull Ring album and Watt comes aboard the latest incarnation for some gigs and the 2007 disc, The Weirdness.

When Ron died in January 2009, Williamson (who had just retired from the computer business) accepts the invitation to take his place and the show went on. The Stooges were inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2010 and Jarmusch includes part of Iggy's droll speech. They even managed a final album, Ready to Die, in 2013 before Scott succumbed to a heart attack in March 2014 and Mackay passed away in October 2015. But Iggy reveals a reason why he keeps going, as he is determined to outlive the school bullies who tried to rock the family trailer when he was a boy.

Although slickly edited by Adam Kurnitz and Affonso Gonçalves and enhanced by some witty cut-out animation by James Kerr, this is much more a profile of Iggy Pop and his sidemen than a wide-ranging appraisal of The Stooges. Having known Iggy since he featured in the 1993 short, Coffee and Cigarettes III, Jarmusch devotes the bulk of the talking-head time to his idol, leaving the Ashetons (and their sister Kathy), Mackay, Williamson and Watt to fill in the gaps. Curiously, however, while we learn a little about what the others did without Iggy, his solo career is left a blank.

This frustrating imbalance is compounded by the fact that Jarmusch elicits no outside assessment of either the band dynamic or its sound. Consequently, this is bereft of the kind of critical insight that might have tempered sweeping statements about The Stooges being the best band of all time. The music is also short-changed by the presumption that everyone watching already knows the standout tracks and the refusal to play more than a snippet of anything. But Iggy is a polished raconteur and the recollections about his youth are particularly engaging. He is also generous in his praise for his friends and open about his own shortcomings. But Jarmusch cuts him a lot of slack when it comes to the more dissolute episodes in his past and scrupulously avoids any overt reference to his private life. While this is understandable, however, it's harder to fathom Jarmusch's reluctance to broach Iggy's pop persona and the chasm between the manic stage sprite and the sedate senior citizen yarning with measured eloquence about his heyday.

Changing tack, Josh Appignanesi and Devorah Baum present a deeply personal and courageously honest record of their attempt to conceive in The New Man. Marking a shift away from fictional features after the acclaimed Song of Songs (2006) and The Infidel (2010), this started out as Appignanesi's way of making a creative contribution to his academic wife's pregnancy with twins. But a tragic change in her condition saw the tone change, as confessional self-depreciation gave way to growing up and facing reality.

During her wedding reception speech in 2010, Devorah Baum outlines new husband Josh Appignanesi's good points. She concludes, however, that they are little more than a couple of babies and the guests laugh in recognition. But, three years and five fertility treatments later, Devorah curses Josh for making her wait so long to get married, as she fears that she is too old in her late thirties to start a family.

Somewhat unexpectedly, she discovers she is pregnant with twins and her friends are delighted for her. Josh has misgivings, however, and confides in comedian friend David Schneider that he is concerned that the new arrivals will come between him and Devorah and steal the affection he craves. Moreover, he feels inadequate, as while Devorah edits a magazine, gives lectures and writes learned articles, he is struggling to put a movie project together.

So, following a testily teasing conversation on a park bench about Josh needing to be nicer to Devorah and making her feel less stressed, he decides to make a filmed record of the pregnancy. She gives her consent, as she hopes it will give him a sense of purpose. But not all of their friends feel comfortable with the incessant filming and Josh himself quickly loses faith in the picture and Devorah (who has recently started feeling forgetful and clumsy) has to reassure him that his film will provide an invaluable record of their life during this special period.

Suitably buoyed, Josh asks friends John Berger, Antony Gormley and Slavoj Žižek about their experiences of fatherhood and the latter compares giving birth to the chestbuster sequence in Ridley Scott's Alien (1979). But such confidences reinforce Josh's conviction that he will be a bad father and he meets up with his Canadian writer-editor father, Richard, for his take on the subject. Having walked out on his wife Lisa, Richard admits he has never been model parent material. But Josh has fond memories of their times together and recognises that his grandfather was so busy working that Richard received precious little loving attention as a boy.

Josh remains optimistic following a visit to friends Donna and Mark, who have just had another child. Consequently, he arranges to spend a few days in Spain with Libyan writer buddy Hisham Matar. But, while Devorah gives the trip her blessing, she comes to regret it when the 20-week scan reveals that one of the twin boys she is carrying has a genetic disorder that will cause him to die in the womb. Josh tries to console her over the phone, but feels he has let her down by not being at her side at such a crucial time.

Devastated by the prognosis, Devorah becomes withdrawn and the focus shifts back on to Josh, as he breaks the news to family and friends. Richard urges him to be kind to Devorah, as he laments that his fears about fatherhood now feel so petty in the face of a life or death crisis. Yet he can't stop himself from having moments of sulky introspection that cause arguments. Moreover, while Devorah remains at home with her pain, Josh keeps friends informed at literary gatherings and berates himself for lacking the emotional maturity to be the pillar of strength his wife so obviously needs.

Such is her preoccupation with delivering one son safely that Devorah loses interest in the film and it's only when she chats with Hisham about the ghastly prospect of having to befriend other parents that she manages a smile. But the sound of twin heartbeats turning into a flatline beep sends her into a depression that barely lifts until she reaches her 35th week. Thus, while she is overjoyed to give birth to Emanual in December 2013, she regrets not being able to join Josh in burying Ben Adam, who (as a poignant caption records) was born at the same time, despite dying a month earlier.

Unable to bond with her son after he is transferred to the neo-natal unit, Devorah puts a brave face on an unintentionally tactless question about the evolutionary purpose of tears and shuffles along the corridors in her dressing-gown waiting for the moment she can finally be a mother. As `O Come O Come Emmanuel' plays over their first Christmas celebration, Josh and Devorah settle into being a family. But, as she reveals during a speech at Manny's first birthday party, she still feels the loss of his brother. Moreover, having watched the edited film, she has reached the conclusion that the biggest baby on show throughout is Josh.

A closing caption explains that Richard had withheld the news that he was being treated for lung cancer during the pregnancy and a final image shows Josh at his bedside. His stepfather also passed away during the making of the film and these losses reinforces Devorah's contention that the closest she will come to touching eternity is through her child. But, despite the odd bit of celebrity name-dropping, this is not a study of achingly hip and clever people philosophising about life's great mysteries. Josh and Devorah may know some bright and famous people (including Zadie Smith and executive producer David Baddiel), but they have the integrity to present themselves as ordinary human beings lurching their way through the confusion, conflict and consternation of a traumatic episode in their lives.

So many of these `up close and personal' domestic documentaries have an exhibitionist feel. But Appignanesi and Baum appear to take a leaf from Andrew Kötting's method of capturing the reality of his daughter Eden's battle with Joubert syndrome. Thus, they are willing to share good times and bad, while also being frank about the dynamic of their relationship. Given how unbecoming some of their exchanges are, it would have been easy to keep this for home viewing only. But they have opened their living scrapbook for all to see and few will be left unmoved.

Sadly, the same cannot be said of Paul James Driscoll's enjoyable, but wildly scattershot Nanny Culture. Seeking to examine the problems that arise when a British nanny meets her new family in Abu Dhabi, this breathless documentary struggles to overcome the fact that so much backstory is withheld that it is difficult for viewers to get a handle on the heroine or the drastic change of lifestyle with which she is confronted. It hardly helps that Driscoll also fails to provide the audience with any information about the United Arab Emirates or why so many wealthy Arabs head to London to seek out Nannys Inc.

In a decidedly awkward and elongated opening segment, Driscoll imposes himself on co-founder Annie Martin and her redoubtable assistants Jana Valabikova and Emma Henderson. He inquires about the salaries that British nannies can expect to command abroad and coerces Henderson into asking a prospective client whether they would be willing to accommodate his crew during the filming of the documentary. Fortunately, he has more luck with

Mohammed Al Hammadi and his wife Badrya Al Hosani, as not only are they happy to welcome Driscoll, but they have also just hired the equally co-operative Julie C. Mcilvenny, whose qualifications are unimpeachable and whose accent sounds suspiciously South African for a supposedly British nanny.

Nonetheless, Driscoll and Julie jet to the Emirates, where she promptly mistakes Pakistani chauffeur Mushtaq Ahmed for her new boss. She feels slightly put out that the family opted not to meet her at the airport, but she is given a royal reception in the foyer of the vast Al Hammadi residence. In addition to being introduced to children Abdullah, Amna, Hamda, Eisa, Mahra and Mansour, Julie also meets the domestic staff, the cats and Mohammed's pet parrot. Clearly nervous in front of the camera, he babbles about Julie treating the house like her home and having a free hand in handling the children any way she sees fit. He also shows her the chickens he keeps in the garden and the swimming pool before leaving her to find her feet.

Julie has come to the region because her husband works near by and he cares for their two young children while she continues her career. However, she has no idea about days off and fears it will be some time before she is able to see her family again. But she has no time for feeling sorry for herself, as she is swept off to watch the camel racing. She also has to deal with the fact that the children eat at different times and that Abdullah spends most of his waking hours playing video games by himself.

When Julie tries to persuade the children to eat together, she is undermined by the serving staff, who have know better than to deny the kids their every desire. Badrya is keen for her offspring to acquire some good habits and keeps her distance as Julie fights battles with Vendira the cook (who has little time for Julie from the outset) and the spoilt and arrogant Abdullah, who doesn't see why he has to obey the orders of a foreign woman. But Amna accepts the new rules and does much to convince her siblings that Julie only has their best interests at heart. However, when Julie (who is more used to being a nanny than a governess) invades the kitchen to make fish fingers with her charges, Vendira feels supplanted in her own space and it's clear to see her resentment building.

Very much feeling superior in her station, Julie fails to notice the negative impact she is having on below stairs morale and traipses off to the local bookshop to spend a small fortune on volumes that might tempt the children away from their computer screens. Once again, Amna responds positively to the attention. But Julie is forced to consult Mohammed when Abdullah defies her orders and it is very much to her credit that she not only coaxes him into playing charades with his brothers and sisters, but also high fives with him when he does something well.

Missing her family, Julie comes to chat to Vendira, who is also working far from home. They discuss the pain of long-distance mothering, but Julie rather insensitively gushes about the prospect of seeing her children when it's clear that Vendira sends most of what she earns home and can never afford the air fare for a visit. But Julie soon finds a more sympathetic ear in fellow nanny Silvie Hanzalkova Patterson, who invites her to socialise with her clique.

Meanwhile, Driscoll asks Eisa for his opinion of Julie and he calmly declares his dislike for her and his embarrassment at having a British nanny. He insists that he will kill himself if she stays for any length of time and Driscoll tries to laugh off his dramatic over-reaction. But it's obvious from the glances the boys exchange at bedtime that they don't share their father's more progressive attitude towards women. Yet Julie jokingly proclaims herself `supernanny' after she gets them all tucked up in bed.

Following a brief sequence of dockers unloading a ship, Driscoll accompanies Julie and Silvie to the market. They try on a range of hijabs, niqabs and burqas before going to a jeweller's to buy necklaces of their names in Arabic. When they have difficulty haggling with the owner, Silvie calls her boss who proceeds to dismiss every price the poor man offers until he reaches one that suits her. Giggling in the background, Julie and Silvie come across as patronisingly haughty. But she is the one subjected to scrutiny when Mohammed introduces her to his older neighbour, who is scornful that she tried to shake hands with him and questions Mohammed's judgement in hiring a woman who doesn't know her place. He also demands to know whether she intends learning Arabic. But the affable Mohammed defends her by saying that she has only been with the family for three weeks and has tried hard to bridge the cultural divide.

Mohammed and Badrya have complete faith in their decision, however, and he welcomes Julie's ideas about rekindling Abdullah's love of football, while she suggests an outing to see a musical production of Roald Dahl's James and the Giant Peach. Julie arranges for the children to meet the cast backstage, but Abdullah still sulks during a family day out and Mohammed wishes he could reconnect with his heir. Such trust confirms Julie's contention that she is more a member of the family than a servant. Consequently, she goes on the defensive when Vendira asks why she doesn't have to wear a uniform like the rest of the domestic staff. Clearly nettled by the cook's aggressive servility, Julie stalks out of the kitchen with a forced bonhomie that disappears when she sounds off about Vendira's impertinence when she meets Silvie and her friends Kerry Ann Watson and Louisa Greenwood for drinks.

The mood lightens when the family heads into the desert for an adventure. They are excited to bump into comedian Bin Baz, who poses for photos with the kids and offers to give them a magic carpet ride by towing them behind his car. Julie jumps on to the carpet as he pulls away, but the rope snaps and everyone is left disappointed. As night falls, Julie realises she has lost her necklace and the family scours the sand to find it for her. It's only when she gets home that Amna informs her that she has got Silvie's necklace by mistake and Julie is taken aback when she calls her friend to let her know about the muddle and she proceeds to take umbrage at the news that her name charm has been damaged.

Although no timescale is given for any of the events witnessed, it appears as though many months have passed since Julie last saw her husband, her three year-old son and her 15 month-old daughter. So their reunion at the airport is quite touching. But Driscoll stages it so that the unnamed spouse can tell Julie that he has been transferred to Abu Dhabi so that they can see more of each other. Yet, while this makes an uplifting ending to his documentary, Driscoll entirely fails to reveal how this development will impact upon Julie's employment plans and the film ends rather confusingly with Julie addressing some young women at a media college after an article appears about her in the local paper.

Such ragtag organisation recurs frequently during this lively, but often frustrating film. Driscoll and fellow editors Bhulla Sing Bhegal and Basel Al Awad frantically dice each sequence into shakicam fragments that just about hold together in a loose narrative. But it's impossible to get a handle on how long Julie has been in situ when pivotal events occur. Moreover, the constant resort to speeches to camera resembling diary room entries makes this feel more like a reality TV show such as Supernanny (2005-12) than a serious study of nanny culture in general and Julie's experiences in particular.

In truth, Driscoll paints a rather unflattering portrait of a woman who always appears aware of the camera's presence and the need to give her director something usable. Thus, she often comes close to performing rather than going about her duties in the expert manner she would doubtless do without the intrusion. Julie might have been more tactful in her dealings with Velinda (whose surname is curiously not listed in the credits). But, even though Driscoll brings them together so often in the hope of capturing confrontation, there seems to be nothing manufactured about their antipathy and the same goes for the contempt shown by Abdullah, Eisa and their ultra-conservative neighbour.

Given the apparent easy-going nature of Mohammed and Badrya, much more might have been made of this patriarchal undercurrent, as well as the appalling snobbery exhibitied by Silvie. But Driscoll forever seems to be in a hurry to move on to the next novelty or set-piece and, as a result, a good deal of potentially compelling material seems to have been overlooked.

It's not easy making a documentary about a live story and reality clearly kept catching up with debutants Usayd Younis and Cassie Quarless over the two years they were shooting Generation Revolution. Yet, what this raw and often emotive study of activism among London's young people of colour loses in terms of control, it more than gains in immediacy, as events start to dictate the agenda and the fissures within the protest groups under scrutiny reveal a good deal more about the ideology and ambitions of their leaders than any stunt, speech or statement.

The opening segment introduces us to the selected members of London Black Revolutinaries, which was founded by 23 year-old Arnie and came to prominence after it concreted over the spikes placed outside the Tesco store in Regent Street to prevent the homeless from sleeping on the pavement. Among Arnie's new recruits are Teju (25), Josh and Alex (both 24). But, apart from learning that the latter finds Britain a more accepting place than her native France, we are told nothing about their backgrounds and beliefs, which makes it difficult to ascertain whether their activism is experiential or intellectual or both.

We find out even less about Tay, the 18 year-old Marxist founder of R Movement, who organises sparsely attended workshops on feminism with a beguiling blend of commitment and naiveté that also comes across in his awkward conversations with what appear to be female classmates. He doesn't pretend to have all the answers. But Tay is as much offended by poverty as he is racism and his conscience is as likely to dictate his actions as his sense of outrage. Thus, he favours practical initiative rather than nebulous protest and takes to the streets to hand out leaflets advising black youths about what to do and what not to say if they are stopped and searched by the police.

Meanwhile, the Black Revs have descended upon the Westfield shopping centre for `I Can't Breathe', a `die-in' staged to mark the death in July 2014 of New Yorker Eric Garner at the hands of the police. Despite only filming the event, Quarless is among the 76 to be arrested by Met officers summoned by mall managers frustrated by the duration of a protest they had initially tolerated. But the event makes headlines and prompts Lambeth police inspector Jack Rowlands to issue a tweet inviting members of the Black Revs to meet with him. Arnie refuses to have any truck with `the pigs', however, and claims that such tactics represent intimidation.

As unidentified voices (perhaps from a community radio or online news service) debate the migrant crisis in Europe, Josh and Alex collaborate on another `die-in' in Central London to highlight the scaling down of rescue missions in the Mediterranean. While Alex lays flowers on those participating, the commander of the police operation approaches Josh to discuss a peaceful resolution to the protest. As he has recently been stopped and searched, Josh is in no mood to be patronised and he refuses to shake the officer's hand or negotiate with anyone wearing a uniform he associates with savagery. The cop accepts his stance, but reminds him that he will break up the happening if he deems it necessary.

Josh declares that he lives in a prison, as he is liable to harassment and arrest each time he steps out of his yard. But the demonstration clearly proceeds without incident, as Josh and Alex are shown tidying up afterwards. Given the fact that it appears to have concluded on their terms, it might have been instructive to show how they called it a day, as this is as much a form of empowerment as being coerced into dispersing. Similarly, Younis and Quarless could have provided more context to Arnie's visit to the infamous Aylesbury Estate in Walworth. He explains that this used to be a thriving community before launching into a condemnation of the bailiffs and police who have been evicting people from the flats. As he struts out of shot, Arnie claims that the authorities would rather these people were dead than homeless. But, for all the potency of his sound bite, it's not made clear whether he is referring to tenants or those involved in the occupation organised to draw attention to the gentrification of London and the planned demolition of the estate.

Arnie's angry approach to his causes contrasts with Tay's genial earnestness, as he launches a crowdfunding campaign to provide aid parcels for the homeless in his area. He goes on a recce to gauge numbers and is warmly welcomed by a middle-aged white man who explains that the homeless tend to keep moving to avoid trouble. It's noticeable that Tay takes an inclusive line when tackling social problems rather than campaigning from a specifically black perspective and Younis and Quarless might have pressed him on this aspect of his activism and maybe even have arranged a debate with Arnie.

Instead, they join the Black Revs on a Reclaim Brixton day that starts with a `Black Brunch' at Brixton Village. Alex is eager to make the white people eating around the outlet feel uncomfortable. But, while Arnie aims to focus solely on the black victims of gentrification, Josh wants the protest to reflect the plight of white working-class families. Further dissent comes from Tej, who feels that Brixton doesn't belong to a single race and fears that the occupation will play into the hands of the forces of imperialism.

Younis and Quarless capture white faces watching the demonstration through café windows, but make no effort to elicit any response to the Brunch or its purpose. This serves to make the onlookers appear complacent and uncaring, which may well not be the case. Indeed, there are several whites among the protesters and many more attend an afternoon gathering in a nearby square that Tej considers more constructive in publicising issues that should concern people of all colours, classes and creeds. But she has nothing but disdain for Arnie's plan to march to Brixton police station to commemorate the 2008 custody death of Sean Rigg, which he insists was the subject of an extensive cover-up.

This appears to be a spur of the moment decision and things quickly get out of hand as some activists attempt to storm the building before they are repelled by mace spray and a defence cordon hastily positioned on the steps. The camera records black and white people suffering from the effects of the mace. But no one explains the tactics or what such aggression was intended to achieve. Tej is particularly frustrated that this incident deflected attention away from what had been a positive day and she confronts Arnie about his attitude to justifiable violence.

During their conversation, Tej concedes that their direct experience of racism might be very different. But she insists that she does suffer as a black woman and finds it hard to see how provocation helps the cause. Arnie blusters somewhat in defending his right to fight back, but fails to address her concern that the violence overshadowed the otherwise positive message generated by the more unified elements of the Reclaim Brixton event.

Undaunted by Tej's criticism, Arnie goes back on the offensive following the Conservative victory in the 2015 General Election by organising a `F**k the Tories' rally. The title dismays Tej, who confides that she is going to have to rethink the nature of her activism. But Josh seems up for the skirmish, as he and Arnie walk to the starting point with a macho swagger that is coming to define the Black Revs.

Keen to keep on the move to prevent the police from boxing them in, Arnie leads the multi-racial crowd past Downing Street. But, as a close-up of a female constable with a baton over her shoulder suggests, the force is in no mood to play games and Josh is among the 15 arrested following scuffles that are accompanied by loud chants about police brutality. The shakicam footage is highly dramatic, but it conveys little sense of the scale of the demonstration or the confrontations. Moreover, Younis and Quarless fail to explore the motives of others on the march and the extent to which the Black Revs are part of a concerted movement or are increasingly operating in a vacuum.

Following the debacle, the group holds a meeting behind closed doors. Afterwards, some anonymous voices express their disquiet with Arnie's growing demagoguery, while others accuse him of exploiting black and brown bodies for his own ends. There is talk of drafting an e-mail, but Arnie pre-empts further rebellion by expelling his comrades in arms. When he starts bad-mouthing them on social media, they issue a statement justifying their opposition to his leadership.

Tej feels particularly betrayed, as she has always given Arnie the benefit of the doubt. But he remains unrepentant, as he insists on camera that the Black Revolutionaries were formed as a radical action group and anyone who joined should have known what to expect. He also releases his own statement, in which he declares that the split came about because of `political tensions' exacerbated by a `cultural collective' who joined the group `under false pretences'. Anxious not to take sides, Younis and Quarless resist commenting on the spat. But they might have been more rigorous in their questioning of both Arnie and Tej and should have canvassed other members to see whether this internecine power struggle owes more to policy or personality.

Fortunately, they find a distraction from this unedifying spectacle in R Movement's mission to help the homeless. Following a shopping expedition with the £150 raised online, Tay and his volunteers make up bags of personal cleanliness products and take to the streets. Endearingly diffident as he gives out his instructions, he gets teased about being a Marxist prophet by an unnamed black girl, who doles out packages without bothering to mention where they came from, as she considers self-promotion to be crass. But Tay is no more dogmatic and gives a man his top when he asks if he has any socks to keep out the cold.

This unassuming act of compulsive compassion is the standout moment of the film and Tej ponders the value of Christian charity as she weighs up her options after an unsatisfactory year. But, as the Black Lives Matter initiative begins to gather momentum, Younis and Quarless feel the need to update the story to the summer of 2016. However, the coda feels rushed and confused, as it lurches from Alex speaking at a rally about respect for people of colour to Josh and what looks like Tay participating in a bid to block the M25 near Heathrow in order to expose continued police brutality and the tightening of border controls.

Once again, Josh is detained. But he remains unbowed and vows that he will win in the end. Nothing is said about what this victory would actually entail, however, or what Josh and Alex hope to achieve by becoming members of Black Dissidents (whose philosophy is never discussed). We are also left none the wiser about the fates of R Movement and the Black Revs. But this scrappy ending rather sums up the haphazard nature of a production that forever seems to be reacting to events without a clear idea of how the final film will hang together.

Ultimately, editor Nse Asuquo does a decent job of piecing the disparate footage into a semi-coherent narrative. But the soap opera moiling within the ranks of the Black Revs lures Younis and Quarless away from the infinitely more interesting efforts of Tay and his small, but dedicated crew to make a tangible difference in the lives of the detached and dispossessed. Moreover, as with The Confession: Living the War on Terror (which Asuquo edited with Simon Barker), the co-directors are as gentle in their inquisitorial tone as Ashish Ghadialis was with Moazzam Begg. Consequently, Arnie is allowed to soapbox and strike postures without really saying much of political trenchancy. Similarly, too little is done to explore the status of women like Alex and Tej within the Black British protest movement (if, indeed, it's a movement at all). Yet, if this timely and well-intentioned actuality sparks debate and encourages young people to do their bit for change, it will have more served its purpose.