Parky at the Pictures (In Cinemas 3/5/2018)

Fifteen year-old Charlie Plummer has moved to Portland, Oregon with his father, Travis Fimmel. Having had a rare hot breakfast after Fimmel's married co-worker, Amy Seimetz, spends the night, Plummer goes running and discovers the Portland Downs horse-racing track. When he drifts down there a second time, he meets Steve Buscemi, who needs help with a flat tyre and offers Plummer $25 to help him take two quarter horses to a meeting in Washington. Striking an immediate rapport with a five year-old named Lean on Pete, Plummer enjoys the atmosphere of the stables and the thrill of the race and is pleased when Pete comes to the paddock fence to stand beside him while he sleeps on the bed of Buscemi's truck.

Pleased that Plummer has bought some groceries and has found something to occupy his time, Fimmel has no objection to him working for Buscemi, who shows him how to exercise Pete on a rotary machine. However, he draws the line at teaching him table manners after he bolts down his food at lunchtime, although he sympathises with the boy because his mother walked out on him and he was left to take his chances with Fimmel after he argued with aunt Alison Elliott about Plummer's upbringing. When Fimmel is hospitalised after being attacked by Seimetz's furious husband, Plummer says nothing to Buscemi, who introduces him to jockey Chloë Sevigny when they go out of town to a meeting. She tells him about the injuries she has sustained during her career and admits it's tough being a woman in a man's world. But she also urges him not to get too attached to Pete, as Buscemi can't afford to be sentimental when a horse passes its racing peak.

Checking on Fimmel's condition by phone, Plummer tries to find a number for Elliott in Rock Springs, Wyoming. However, he is more concerned with Pete and, when Fimmel dies, Plummer moves into Buscemi's office next to the stable. Moreover, when Sevigny intimates that Pete will be sent to Mexico for slaughter unless he wins his next race, Plummer decides to take drastic action. When Pete comes last and Buscemi informs Plummer that he intends selling him, the boy takes the truck and horse box and heads for Wyoming, in the hope that Elliott will take him in.

Stealing a map from a petrol station, Plummer crosses the plains and enjoys a rare moment of peace when he bathes in a river. But he is soon reduced to siphoning petrol and doing a runner from a diner, where the waitress persuades her boss to let him go (reinforcing Fimmel's contention that one can always rely on a waitress). Shortly afterwards, he runs out of fuel and has to walk across scrubland to find any signs of civilisation. He tells Pete about his best friend in Spokane and the weekend that he and Elliott spooked themselves out while camping and fled home to watch TV.

Eventually, he finds a remote homestead, where Iraq War veterans Lewis Pullman and Justin Rain are playing video games and chugging beers. Rain mounts Pete and Plummer admits to Pullman that he has never ridden him. They get a visit from neighbour Bob Olin and his granddaughter Teyah Hartley, who cooks them supper. Plummer is puzzled why she allows them to tease her about her weight and she tells him that people will put up with anything when they have nowhere else to go.

Creeping away in the night, Plummer leads Pete through the wilderness and keeps confiding details about his past. He admits to tearing up the only photograph he had of his mother in a fit of pique and remembers Fimmel saying that she was a temperamental creature, too. As dusk falls, Pete is scared by the sound of two motorbikes on a remote highway and slips his rope. Plummer runs after him, but is powerless as a car rams into the side of the horse and Pete dies with Plummer kneeling beside him.

Giving the police the slip, Plummer continues on his way and breaks into a house in order to launder his clothes. Arriving in a roughneck town, he hooks up with Steve Zahn and his girlfriend Rachael Perrell Fosker at the local food kitchen. They live in a camper van and allow Plummer to stay, while he makes some money with a house-painting job with some Mexican migrants. However, Zahn is an abusive drunk and, when he steals Plummer's cash in the middle of the night, the youth takes a tyre iron from an abandoned car and hits him across the head in order to retrieve his bus fare to Laramie, where Elliott has taken a job in a library.

She is surprised to see him, but welcoming and non-judgemental. Over pancakes, Plummer asks if he can stay and she readily agrees. When he mentions the prospect of going to jail, she says she will protect him and find him a good school so he can finish his education and start playing American Football again. That night, he comes to her room because he can't sleep and confides that he suffers from nightmares about Fimmel and Pete. But, when he sobs on her shoulder about missing him so much, it's left unclear whether he's talking about his father or his equine friend.

Magnificently photographed by Magnus Nordenhof Jønck and poignantly scored by James Edward Barker, this horse and his boy odyssey evokes memories of such diverse features as John Huston's The Misfits (1961), Robert Bresson's Au Hasard Balthazar (1966) and Kelly Reichardt's Wendy and Lucy (2008). But, while he maintains a discreet distance to allow Plummer to learn from his mistakes, Haigh avoids generic clichés in examining how people manage to make the best of things, in spite of being so `weak and sick and ugly and quarrelsome'.

The male characters certainly prove poor role models for young Charlie Plummer, as he watches both father Travis Fimmel and mentor Steve Buscemi ducking and diving in a bid to remain afloat. For all his moral laxity, however, Fimmel doesn't deserve his fate and the police's seeming lack of interest in Plummer's whereabouts as a key murder witness somewhat undermines the plausibility of the storyline. Similarly, Buscemi appears not to have pressed charges after Plummer steals his truck, while the officers attending the scene after Pete's demise seem to be highly derelict in their duty in allowing the boy to abscond into the night.

Such clumsy contrivances aside, this is an engaging saga that relies more on small gestures, quiet confidences and companionable silences than it does on grand speeches and high-powered performances. As is often the case with outsiders, Haigh has a firm grasp of the peripheral milieu and the mindset of its inhabitants. But, in judging the pace to a tee, he employs a detachment that some might find off-putting, even though it forces viewers to reach their own conclusions when Plummer stares at his changing reflection in a bathroom mirror or seeks the comfort of strangers.

Plummer acquits himself admirably as the budding athlete searching for a replacement for the mother who betrayed him and his stoic turn is all the more impressive for its lack of pathos, as he learns to look after himself in the school of hard knocks. Buscemi and Sevigny also chip in effectively, although the encounters with the war vets and Steve Zahn's brutish hobo feel rather tacked. But Haigh redeems himself by neatly squaring the circle by ending the picture with Plummer going for another run in a new neighbourhood and leaving us to wonder how things will pan out.

Yet another first-time feature maker expands an acclaimed short, as Daniel Jerome Gill transforms his 2009 outing into Modern Life Is Rubbish, a flashbacking 1990s romcom that takes its title from a Blur album and contains echoes of everything from Stephen Frears's 2000 adaptation of Nick Hornby's High Fidelity to Marc Webb's (500) Days of Summer (2009). Written by jobbing tele-scribe Philip Gawthorne, this nostalgic wallow affords Gill an overdue opportunity to call the shots after spending the last 18 years as an assistant director on a range of big- and small-screen projects. However, despite some neat visual touches, he struggles to impose his personality on material that rarely rises above the generic.

Aspiring pop star Josh Whitehouse gets home late after a gig just as girlfriend Freya Mavor's alarm goes off and she heads across London to the advertising agency where she works. She returns that night with some cardboard boxes and announces she is moving out. As she sorts through the CDs, however, the sight of Blur: The Best Of reminds her of meeting Whitehouse in an independent record shop when he had tried to show off by listing the reasons why she shouldn't buy such a cynical cash-in. In fact, Mavor knows as much about Blur as he does and he manufactures a second meeting at a bubble disco, during which they quiz each other about their likes and dislikes before kissing on the dance floor and tumbling into bed.

Fumblings with a condom and the knobs of Mavor's radio follow before they roll off the mattress to make love on the floor. But she is now ready to box up such memories, along with her belongings. As she works, she asks how Whitehouse is getting on with his band, Head Cleaner, and we flashback to see him bickering with bassist Will Merrick and drummer Matt Milne about who should front their three-piece. Barman Steven Mackintosh is amused by their deliberations and offers to put them in touch with Ian Hart, a legendary producer who seems to have guided everyone from The Smiths to Oasis on their way to the top.

However, Mavor had never been convinced by the band's name and she complains that she would have less sorting to do if Whitehouse had overcome his objection to digital technology and kept his music on an iPhone instead of their bookshelves. Yet his refusal to succumb to the latest fads and trends had been part of his appeal when they had talked into the night over a joint about their desert island discs. But, while he sulks on the sofa as Mavor beavers away, he has sentimental memories of his own about the night they first declared their love for each other and he carefully places a ticket for the gig in his wallet. Indeed, they are so simpatico that, when they drive through a tunnel while singing along to the radio, they are perfectly in sync with the track when the signal returns.

Moreover, thanks to Hart whipping up the crowd at an open mike session, Head Cleaner also seem to be heading in the right direction. Deciding to move in together, Whitehouse and Mavor cover each other in paint while decorating, walk across the zebra crossing on Abbey Road and quote the lyrics to Lou Reed's `Perfect Day' at the end of a sun-dappled trip to the park. She even inspires him to write a song while chopping vegetables. But Mavor worries about the bills and feels her heart sinking when Tower Records closes on Piccadilly Circus, as her greatest ambition had been to see an album cover she had designed on display there. Whitehouse hardly helps, as he refuses to consider a proper job while Hart still has hopes about the band breaking through. So, with much reluctance, she joins best friend Jessie Cave at a trendy ad agency

Just as the bottom seems to be falling out of her world, the box containing her CDs disintegrates on the fire escape and Whitehouse whisks Mavor back to the flat to show her the booklet hidden inside the limited edition CD of Radiohead's Kid A album. He explains the benefits of being able to hold the packaging and laments that everything risks disappearing into cyberspace. But, while Mavor feels a tingle when he takes hold of her hand, she has heard his grizzling before and stalks out of the room. This reminds her of the time she had let her frustrations show at a rain-soaked Reading Festival and informed Whitehouse that she needed time to think because there was more to life than heating beans in a tent and prattling about demo tapes that somehow never get recorded.

Her need to consider settling down as she approaches 30 comes as something of a shock, as it's not readily apparent from the action that a decade has passed since Mavor and Whitehouse first met. But the growing gulf between them becomes obvious when he discovers she has bought an iPod while they're attending an art show that's being promoted by her company. He launches into a rant about integrity and creative pain that culminates in him smashing an exhibit and Mavor breaking up with him on the banks of the Thames. She leaves the flat in a less melodramatic manner, however, and holds back the tears after kissing Whitehouse on the cheek. He slumps into his armchair and clutches his father's blue guitar and one of Mavor's sweaters. But he is reminded of how irritating she can be when the CD he is listening to sticks because she has scratched it.

Reduced to kipping on mother Sorcha Cusack's sofa, Whitehouse is dismayed when she buys him an iPhone for his birthday. But Mavor is no happier in her swanky new apartment and keeps doodling Head Cleaner logos on her notepad at work, as she works on cheesy apps for lovers to send each other messages (and pop-up ads). However, romance blossoms with workmate Tom Riley and he offers to give Mavor some space when she bumps into Whitehouse working alongside Merrick in a coffee bar. But she insists she is over her ex and kisses Riley when they dance to the same track at a silent disco. Whitehouse is also trying to move on with American Daisy Bevan after he mistakes her for his Tinder date after he finally starts using his phone. But their first bedroom encounter is spoiled when she puts on a song with prior connections and then bad-mouths Radiohead.

Gutted to see Mavor happy with Riley when he shows up on her doorstep with a bunch of flowers, Whitehouse is in no mood to write a new song when Hart gets the band a make-or-break gig at The Forum. But he goes on and is having a blast when he starts imagining every girl in the audience is Mavor. He rushes off stage, with dozens of smartphones filming his dramatic exit. Yet, as he skulks in his dressing-room, Hart informs him that he is ready to take the next step, as he has finally suffered for his art. Moreover, he admits that he isn't a pop Svengali but an assistant manager at Tesco who lived with his dad in Milton Keynes.

Amused and buoyed, Whitehouse vows to clean up his act and get Mavor back. He gets a haircut, but is still recognisable as the `crying guitarist' who has taken the Internet by storm. Indeed, Mavor sees the clip just before she is about to leave for a romantic weekend with Riley and he lets her go with ridiculous good grace. He also hands over the parcel that has arrived for her and she follows the clues hidden inside to embark upon a treasure hunt through some of the places she had been with Whitehouse. She finds him waiting for her at Greenwich Park and he promises he has changed and simply wants to make her happy. Quoting both Jerry Maguire and Friends, she forgives him and they kiss.

It's not entirely clear what message this paean to conformity is seeking to convey, but it brings to mind James Kermack's Hi-Lo Joe, in which another maverick kicking against the system decides to tow the line for love. But there are so many references, allusions and homages floating around that this almost feels like a piece of mixtape cinema. Gill and Gawthorne can claim that the iconoclasts of the nouvelle vague adopted the same tactics, but this keeps too unswervingly to the middle of the road for this to be anything other than a conventional date movie.

That's not a criticism per se, as the asides on the dehumanising impact of gadgetry are wholly valid, as is the lament for the passing of physical film and music formats. Yet, ironically, it's a viral video that brings the lovebirds back together without having aged a day in the decade they've been an item. Sniping aside, Whitehouse and Mavor make an engaging couple, who feel right for each other even when they are as wrong as Audrey Hepburn and Albert Finney were in Stanley Donen's Two For the Road (1967), which also used non-linear fragments to chronicle a crumbling romance. However, too much of the support playing falls below the standard set by the leads, while the songs composed by Ben Parker and Matthew Racher go some way to explaining Head Cleaner's struggle to find an audience. Nevertheless, Gill and editor Peter Christelis devise some neat scene transitions, while the climactic memory lane montage is rather delightful in its affirmation of that old Beatle maxim, `all you need is love'.

Born in Venice, but based in the United States, Antonio Padovan has been busy since making his first film, Socks and Cakes (2007). In addition to several other shorts, he has also made the documentary, Once Upon a Time, Inc. (2013), and contributed the segments `Jack Attack' and `Eveless' to the respective horror portmanteaux, All Hallows' Eve 2 (2015) and Galaxy of Horrors (2017). Ever on the watch for new talent, CinemaItaliaUK has picked up Padovan's feature bow, Finché c'è Prosecco c'è Speranza/The Last Prosecco, which has been adapted from a thriller by co-scenarist Fulvio Ervas.

Over a glass of wine in the Veneto town of Col San Giusto, Count Desiderio Ancillotto (Rade Serbedzija) reminds Francesca Beltrame (Silvia D'Amico) to respect the earth before confronting fellow patrons Speggiorin (Andrea Appi), Dr Sartori (Vasco Mirandola) and Belendi (Giovanni Betto) so that she can get a good look at them. Having sent her away in a yellow New York taxi with his Maremma Sheepdog, BB King, Ancillotto shaves and puts on his best suit before selecting a bottle of his famous Prosecco. He proceeds to the cemetery, where he washes down a handful of pills and lies back to die on the tomb of his ancestors.

Despite his scruffiness and lack of experience, Inspector Stucky (Giuseppe Battiston) is entrusted with the case and he is informed by local bar owner Oste Secondo (Mirko Artuso) that Ancillotto was not the kind of man to commit suicide. The discovery of a tumour in his stomach seems to suggest otherwise, however, and Stucky is congratulated on cracking his first crime by Cyrus (Babak Karimi), who has been staying with his burly half-Persian nephew since his mother died and keeps trying to sort through the things left behind by Stucky's dead father.

He is woken in the night by Landrulli (Paolo Cioni), however, with the news that a second body has been found and, as he makes his way to the home of Tranquilo Speggiorin, we see Francesca hang a Buck Mark pistol on a nail on Ancillotto's cellar and remove a bottle from a shelf bearing a handwritten note about the time and place when its contents were consumed. Back at headquarters in Treviso, Stucky learns from boss Sergio Leonardi (Roberto Citran) that Speggiorin was an engineer at the nearby cement works and that his pregnant widow is the sister of a prominent member of parliament. But they are puzzled when ballistics links the shooting to a rare kind of gun owned by Ancillotto and only a couple of others in the entire region.

Stucky drives into the Cartizze Hills on the day of Ancillotto's funeral and Secondo points out the Grand Master (Sandro Buzzati) of the uniformed cabal in charge of the area's Prosecco output. But the inspector is more interested in the shambling Isacco Pitusso (Teco Celio), who cleans the headstones in the tiny cemetery and sobs when he sits down beside Ancillotto's grave. His interest piqued, Stucky goes to the vineyard and is shown around the property by housekeeper Adele Toniut (Gisella Burinato). She mentions the taxi and the dog, but has no idea where they are, as Ancellotti never told her anything. However, she does know that her boss detested Speggiorin because his cement works polluted the air over the slopes.

Agnes tries to persuade Stucky to leave when she spots Ancillotto's estranged daughter, Celinda Salvatierra (Liz Solari). She cheerfully explains that she barely knew her father, as her artist mother separated from him when she was young. But she has no qualms about returning from South America to claim her inheritance and upsets Agnes by casually declaring that she intents selling the estate.

Arriving home, Stucky finds that Cyrus has invited Secondo to supper and the steam rising from a bubbling pot prompts the rookie to pay a visit to the cement works. As he parks, he touches the patina on the leaves of a hardy plant growing outside the perimeter fence, on which is daubed the message, `Thou Art Dust and Unto Dust You Shall Return.' He orders Landrulli to run an analysis on the residues from the chimneys before they pay a visit to some Kosovans who used to work for Ancillotto. The boss (Antonio Scarpa) refuses to answer any questions unless Stucky and Landrulli play him at bar football. Handing over a banknote after they are roundly beaten, Stucky learns that an insomniac member of the crew had seen a female figure in black creeping furtively on the night that Speggiorin was killed.

They also check out the nearby firing range, where the owner (Vitaliano Trevisan) recalls that Ancellotto used to shoot his Buck Mark with a pretty girl with the tattoo of a gecko on her wrist. He recalls that she was a much better shot than the count, who was half-blind. Taking coffee at an outdoor café, Stucky calls a pal on the force in Venice to ask him to inquire about the girl with the gecko. He also learns from waitress (Nicoletta Maragno) that Ancellotto regularly invited beautiful women to the villa and that Pitusso devotes himself to cleaning the headstones of those he believes succumbed to tumours.

Landrulli digs up a report on the cement works and notices that Sartori was among those to give it a clean bill of health. When Stucky pays him a late-night call, the doctor defends his findings and says that the plant has brought prosperity to a struggling region. But Stucky is unconvinced and is further puzzled when he slips into a gathering of the Prosecco Brotherhood in time to hear Celinda read a letter from her father, in which he accuses some of his colleagues of poisoning the land he had striven to protect. Sartori is outraged and storms out of the candlelit meeting room and Celinda follows in distress.

Stucky accompanies her to the villa, where she shows him the last line of the letter, which suggests that her father had arranged for Speggiorin to be killed. As they explore the cellar, Stucky gets a call from his contact in Venice, who has identified Francesca as the former lover of a gangster who had caused her to miscarry by beating her. She now works as a prostitute and Stucky pays her a call during a downpour. He recognises the dog and finds a bottle with Ancillotto's writing on the stripped label. But, while Francesca admits that he paid her to kill Speggiorin, she had spared him on discovering that his wife was pregnant. Further doubting her story when she claims to have left the pistol in a secret room in the cellar, Stucky calls Landrulli to come and arrest Francesca. But he is unable to leave Col San Giusto because Sartori has been killed.

Leonardi ticks Stucky off for being on a fool's errand while there is a killer on the loose and he hastens to the villa, where Celinda takes him down to the cellar. He finds the hidden room behind a wine rack and sifts through various papers relating to the cement works and the Brotherhood. Celinda also comes across the childhood photographs that her father had pinned to the wall, as well as the letters he had carefully preserved. She is touched and relieved when Stucky reassures her that the count had not killed anyone.

In the town, however, the cackling Pitusso congratulates Ancellotto on claiming his second victim. Yet, the next morning, he comes to the police station to confess to the crimes and Leonardi thinks he has a madman on his hands. He sends him away, as Stucky explains that Pitusso is not as crazy as he seems. But Leonardi is equally unimpressed with the documents that Stucky found in the villa antechamber (and which he read in a secret room of his own, where he has hoarded his father's possession since he also died in suspicious circumstances when the future cop was 18). So, he takes him off the case to get some rest, while he tries to ensure that the press don't get hold of the news that Sartori and Speggiorin had conspired to forge toxicology reports.

Heading home, Stucky finds Cyrus in his father's room. He announces that he is moving out because Secondo has found him lodgings and urges his nephew to try on a leather jacket that had been his father's favourite. Still wearing it, Stucky goes to bid farewell to Celinda and joins her on a visit to Ancellotto's grave. As he looks at the headstone in the fading light, he notices some rust on the stonework and uses his lighter to examine the plots of those whose names he had found on a piece of paper in the cellar. Among them is Adele's grandson and Stucky returns to the villa to confirm that he died because of the fumes from the cement works. She pulls the gun from a drawer in her quarters. But Stucky persuades her not to shoot by revealing that he has spared the man responsible for his father's fatal workplace accident, even though he hates him as much as she loathes Speggiorin and Sartori.

As Adele is bundled into a squad car by Guerra (Diego Pagotto), Stucky stands on the terrace and looks at the view with Leonardi. He reveals that the cement works had been burning waste from other sites, including hospitals, in order to boost profits and is surprised when his boss lets slip that the press will make hay with the Sartori report that has somehow fallen into their hands. Over at the cemetery, Pitusso resumes his rounds, while Stucky calls on Celinda to give her BB King. She has decided to stay on and asks Stucky if he would like to check up on the dog from time to time.

Closing with an aerial shot of the Villa Gera in Conegliano, this engaging whodunit is closer in tone to Inspector Montalbano than the polizziotteschi of yesteryear. But, as he stumbles towards the carefully concealed truth, Giuseppe Battiston brings to mind Toni Servillo in Andrea Molaioli's The Girl By the Lake (2007) and one can but hope that this is the first of Fulvio Ervas's many Inspector Stucky novels to reach the screen.

Battiston is ably supported by a solid ensemble, with Padovan archly enhancing Teco Celio's performance as Pitusso by employing a woozy tilting effect to suggest that he is not entirely compos mentis. But Massimo Moschin's camerawork is excellent throughout, as is Massimo Pauletto's production design and Teho Teardo's score. But, while Padovan makes the most of his majestic settings, it's his control over the twisting mystery that most impresses, as he ensures that the inexperienced Stucky doesn't become Sherlock Holmes overnight.

Having been nominated for an Oscar for his outstanding James Baldwin documentary, I Am Not Your Negro (2016), Haitian director Raoul Peck turns his attention to another writer with ambitions to change the world in The Young Karl Marx. Teaming once again with Pascal Bonitzer, with whom he produced a challenging 2000 biopic of Congolese leader Patrice Lumumba, Peck seeks to show how The Communist Manifesto emerged from the welter of ideas that were swirling around Europe in the period before the 1848 revolutions. But, while the philosophising is often fascinating, the depiction of the private lives of Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels is frustratingly conventional and falls a long way behind the standards established in the epochal BBC series, Fall of Eagles (1974).

An opening caption sets the scene in 1843, where the proletariat is feeling the pinch of a recession and turning to `communist' ideals of brotherhood. However, two young Germans are about to transform this notion and change the course of history. As Karl Marx (August Diehl) writes about property, crime and punishment in Cologne, we see a group of peasants being savagely beaten for collecting dead wood from a nearby forest. However, the Cologne office of Rheinische Zeitung is raided by soldiers and Marx allows himself to be taken prisoner, as an act of defiance.

Meanwhile, in the Manchester textile factory owned by his father (Peter Benedict), Friedrich Engels (Stefan Konarske) is appalled by the callous treatment of the largely female workforce. He is dismayed when Herr Engels sacks Irishwoman Mary Burns (Hannah Steele) for having the courage to speak up when he declares they will pay for a broken machine and follows her through the crowded streets to the hovel where she is carousing with some compatriots. The red-haired firebrand accuses him of coming to gloat, but he insists that he despises the ruling classes as much as she does and smiles when he finds her leaning over him when he is knocked cold by a single punch from her friend, Paddy (Aran Bertetto).

By July 1844, Marx and his wife, Jenny von Westphalen (Vicky Krieps), are living in Paris. The remain poor, even though Marx is writing for Arnold Ruge (Hans-Uwe Bauer) and his reputation goes before him when he debates with anarchists Pierre-Joseph Proudhon (Olivier Gourmet), Mikhail Bakunin (Ivan Franek) and Karl Grün (Niels-Bruno Schmidt) at an open-air rally. Engels is also impressed when they meet at Ruge's home and he commends his genius in declaring him `the greatest materialist thinker of our times'. So, when Marx congratulates Engels on The Condition of the Working Class in England, they leave together and bond over a game of chess in a bar after out-running some gendarmes checking identity papers.

Marx reveals that Jenny is from one of the oldest families in Germany and admits to being surprised that she threw in her lot with the son of a converted Jew. But Engels declines to discuss his private life, as it's too complicated. Instead, he proposes that they should join forces on a book and they pause in an alleyway on the way home to vow to produce a book that doesn't simply comment on the world, but actively changes it. Jenny is sceptical when she finds them hungover in the study the next morning, but Marx has been impressed by Engels's knowledge of English thinkers like Adam Smith and Jeremy Bentham and is keen to collaborate on a denunciation of Max Stirner and the Critical Critique.

While Marx furrows his brow in the library, Engels gets to know Jenny, who warns him that her husband doesn't have his constitution and needs to avoid all-night drinking sessions. He agrees to keep an eye on him and they find Marx playing chess with Bakunin, while Proudhon has his portrait painted by Gustave Courbet, the only artist he rates because he takes the common people for his subject. They discuss the project Marx and Engels are working on and are amused by Jenny's proposed title, A Critique of Critical Critique.

Waking from a nightmare about a peasant being run through with a sword in the forest, Marx hears a news vendor announcing an assassination attempt on the Prussian king, Frederick William IV. Having written a combustible article on the incident, he addresses a meeting of craft workers in the Faubourg Saint-Antoine with Wilhelm Weitling (Alexander Scheer) and Herrmann Kriege (Ulrich Brandoff). They question Proudhon's thinking because he merely wishes to reform the existing system rather than transform it and Marx is encouraged by the reception he and Weitling receive from the audience. However, Engels is about to return to Britain and he warns Marx not to risk their enterprise by being jailed for his inflammatory journalism. His words go unheeded, however, and Marx and Jenny are given just 24 hours to sell up and leave France after the police raid their apartment.

Back in Manchester, Engels argues with his father about his association with a rabble-rouser like Marx and he storms out. He goes to find Mary, who is at home with her sister, Lizzy (Annabelle Lewiston). She is happy to see him again, but her thoughts quickly turn to politics, as she if he has heard of the League of the Just.

As the story moves to the winter of 1845, Jenny gives birth to a second daughter in Brussels, as Marx makes an unsuccessful application to work for the post office. He is able to pay his debts when Engels sends a money order, but he feels unable to keep working for his father, as he is perpetuating the very system he seeks to smash. So, he moves to London to join Weitling's League and invites Marx to join him. Jenny urges him not to miss the opportunity to do something momentous and promises she will be fine looking after the children with her maid, Lenchen (Marie Meizenbach).

Marx arrives in London in February 1846 and learns that Mary is now married to Engels. She accompanies them to a meeting with the League's representatives and they are about to turn them away for having no inside knowledge of the class struggle when Weitling arrives and embraces them as comrades. They are also impressed when Marx mentions his personal friendship with Proudhon and they go to Engels's club to celebrate. As they warm themselves by the fire, they bump into Thomas Naylor (Stephen Hogan), a foundry owner who makes no apologies for using child labour, as he would go out of business if he had to pay adult wages. Marx accuses him of exploitation and Naylor laments that Engels has allowed himself to fall into such low company.

In Brussels on 30 March, Engels welcomes Kriege, Weitling, Grün and Pavel Annenkov (Damien Marchal) to discuss educating the masses. However, Marx is in no mood to bolster Weitling's ego and says that he demands more than notional ideas of brotherhood. He accuses Weitling of being little more than a socialist preacher rather than a genuine revolutionary and the meeting breaks up with Mary and Jenny confused why Marx would want to pick a fight with potential allies. Engels suggests they can smooth things over through Proudhon, but Marx insists that he is equally guilty of peddling outdated ideas.

They are astonished, therefore, when Moses Hess (Rolf Kanies) not only asks them to join the London branch of the League, but also to draw up proposals for its restructuring in time for the autumn congress. He also suggests that they persuade Proudhon to become the Parisian delegate and they meet with in at the Hôtel Bellevue in Brussels in May 1846. Ignoring Grün's warnings that Marx and Engels are troublemakers, Proudhon declines their invitation and urges them to remember that Martin Luther might have successfully challenged papal authority, but he also founded a deeply divided religion. He hands them copies of his latest tome, The Philosophy of Poverty, which Marx attacks in The Poverty of Philosophy, which is on sale when the League of the Just meets in the Red Lion Hotel in London in November 1847.

On discovering that they are merely invited guests and not full delegates, Engels demands a vote on whether he can speak and wins on a show of hands. He comes to the podium and questions how far fraternity will get them when the ruling classes use violence to suppress them. Hecklers accuse Engels and Marx of seeking confrontation when Proudhon and Weitling favour negotiation. But Engels mocks such sentimental daydreaming and, as Jenny and Mary put up a red banner proclaiming `Workers of All Countries Unite', he proposes a new name, The Communist League, and another vote carries the day.

The families spend time in Ostend in January 1848. Sitting on the beach, Mary shocks Jenny by saying that her sister Lizzy can give Engels children if he wants them, as she wants to devote herself to the struggle. On the water's edge, Engels pleads with Marx to help him write a manifesto to sum up the tenets of the Communist ideal they advocated to the League. He protests that he must put paid commissions first, as he has mouths to feed. But Engels reminds him that thousands have perished in the Irish Famine and that chief ministers like Guizot in France and Metternich in Austria are on the verge of losing power. This is the moment to strike and their cause will be irreparably damaged if they miss their opportunity.

Reluctantly, Marx agrees and the wives help them make sense of their notes and they scribble away by lamplight to produce their tract. As key lines are read on the soundtrack, we see factory machinery whirring and trains speeding along tracks, as the industrial behemoth exploits the men, women and children who are arranged in photogenic groups to stare solemnly into the camera. We also see a printing press in action before a closing caption reveals that the revolutions of 1848 broke out a month after The Communist Manifesto was published. Supported by Jenny and Engels, Marx continued to write, with his masterpiece being Das Kapital, which made a vital contribution to the overthrow of the old order.

A hint of what was to come in the 20th century is provided by a pre-credit montage that's accompanied by a snatch of Bob Dylan's `Like a Rolling Stone'. Among the familiar faces are John F. Kennedy, Che Guevara, Margaret Thatcher, Ronald Reagan and Nelson Mandela. But they seem a random bunch and it's interesting that Peck chose not to include anyone from the Communist sphere. Quite what this sequence is meant to represent is open to question, but it seems as much of a misjudgement as the melodramatic reconstruction of events at the Red Lion and the tableaux depicting the noble poor after Peck and Bonitzer had striven so hard (if not always successfully) to avoid biopic cliché.

They owe much in this regard to the thoughtful performances of August Diehl and Stefan Konarske, who atone for being over a decade too old for their roles by conveying the gravity and commitment of Marx and Engels in the struggle to formulate their ideas and have them accepted by the nascent labour movement. Vicky Krieps and Hannah Steele make the most of underwritten, but far from tokenist roles, while Olivier Gourmet amuses in presenting Pierre Proudhon as a philosophical superstar with his own entourage and overweening sense of self-importance. But Peck and Bonitzer spare the cast screeds of political cant, as they attempt to make the ideas under discussion as accessible as possible. Most should be able to follow the debates, although some may have to resort to googling the odd name on their return from the cinema.

Production designers Benoît Barouh and Christophe Couzon and costumier Paule Mangenot work wonders on limited budgets, while cinematographer Kolja Brandt keeps things simple in order not to distract from the theories being propagated. But the flimsy title rather betrays the fact that this is a disappointingly prosaic piece of heritage middlebrowism that compromises its historical accuracy with a number of telling omissions, particularly about Marx's private life. Moreover, it often struggles either to bring Marx and Engels alive or to make their ideas seem vibrant and relevant in an age crying out for radical solutions to the world's mounting and pressing problems. Maybe James Schamus and Alice Birch will have more luck with the TV series they are currently adapting from Mary Gabriel's book, Love And Capital: Karl and Jenny Marx and the Birth of a Revolution. However, it will come too late for the 200th anniversary of Marx's birth on 5 May.

Although rooted in the kind of social policy tract that was produced in the 1930s heyday of the British Documentary Movement, Christopher Ian Smith's New Town Utopia owes much to the city studies of Mark Cousins and would make a fine companion piece to Marc Isaacs's All White in Barking (2007) and Jonathan Meades's BBC film, The Joy of Essex (2013). Yet, while he provides an intriguing record of the changing face of Basildon and coaxes some thoughtful contributions from his interviewees, Smith can be a little evasive in striving to be as objective as possible. Moreover, he is far too reluctant to draw any decisive conclusions or proffer any potential solutions.

As the camera roves around Basildon's estates, parks and precincts to a sombre piano accompaniment, Jim Broadbent reads part of a speech delivered in the House of Commons by Lewis Silkin on 8 May 1946. As the Minister of Town and Country Planning in Clement Attlee's landslide Labour administration, Silkin had overseen the foundation of 10 new towns within 30 miles of London and he hoped that they would foster a new kind of citizen, who would approach the challenges of rebuilding a war-scarred nation with dignity and pride.

As Vincent O'Connell, Barry Hayes, Joe Morgan, Penny Betteridge, Ralph Dartford and Rob Marlow recall, there were teething problems, as exiles from the East End came to terms with their new surroundings alongside those who had relocated from rural Essex. But most people were delighted with their spacious houses after living in bombed-out inner-city slums and, over home-movie footage of kids playing and streets coming together for open-air parties, Steve Waters, Phil Burdett, Pat Joyce and Kath Joyce-Banks, Joe Hymas, Stuart Brown, Marc Barnacle and Richard Hawkins wax lyrical about the sense of community that quickly grew up among the new arrivals.

Standing in a shopping precinct, Ralph recites a pertinent poem about how daily life has changed from the pioneering days to the iPhone era. Over shots of quiet corners of the sanctuary he had helped create, Silkin claims a responsibility to instil in new town dwellers a sense of beauty. Thus, he ensured that the architecture and the civic art exuded a modernism that would inspire residents and the voices off agree that pieces like Maurice Lambert's Mother and Child Fountain (1962) became cherished landmarks. Phil claims they were space-age and too crunchy to belong in a chocolate box village. Indeed, he also avers that Nature should be subservient to the aspirations of humans and that buildings like Brooke House should be feted for rising to the challenge of improving life.

Yet, for all the diversity of the designs, the estates were created by retired military types who had no experience of living in such conditions. Thus, they overestimated the neighbourliness that would be generated in the various flats and maisonettes, while also failing to see how the alleyways and secluded corners could become haunts for muggers and drug dealers. While Pat complains about the uniformity such housing imposed upon the populace, Vin Harrop counters that the design was less of a problem than the quality of the construction, which resulted in many facilities being torn down within decades of their erection. However, Joe Morgan, who was the Labour council leader when the notorious Five Links estate was opened in 1970 dubbed it `Alcatraz' during the dedication ceremony and film producer Terry Bird jokes that it was no accident that he staged Jason Ford's 2012 horror flick, Community, on the estate.

Musician Mike Parker laments having to move out of the tower block where he had lived for a quarter of a century. He recalls the staircase becoming littered with condoms and needles and how some residents were having a barbecue on the fire escape on the day he moved out. But it soon became apparent that Silkin's hope that the spirit of the slums would bind people together was going to be dashed, as estate residents became territorial and tensions flared up between pubs, as well as gangs advocating different lifestyles. Ölmo Lazarus recites a poem about a punch-up, while Kath recalls that the golden rule about drinking in Basildon pubs was never to look at anybody, as staring always led to trouble.

Even in a town with a reputation for being tough, however, there were those who sought to create rather than destroy and they found a haven at the Arts Centre and the old Towngate Theatre. Punk proved something of a catalyst, with singers like Alison Moyet and bands like Depeche Mode starting out in local youth clubs and going all the way to Top of the Pops. Vince Clarke first came into contact with a synthesiser through Rob Marlow and we see the video for his single, `The Face of Dorian Gray'. As Phil remembers, there was a DIY ethos about the music scene, but it also had a political element, as bands played at gatherings like Rock Against Racism (as people were always `against' something in this age of protest).

Silkin hoped that Basildon would be a classless place, but this soon proved to be a pipe dream. Richard Hawkins recalls moving to the town in 1974 and being surprised that it didn't have a railway station. However, few people needed to commute to work, as the industrial estates ringing the town provided employment. Despite the boom, though, Basildon was nicknamed `Moscow on the Thames' and Morgan recalls this militancy promoting political activism, as hundreds attended meetings to air their views or plan rent strikes. But when Margaret Thatcher's Conservative government offered resident the chance to buy their council houses, thousands across the town did. Rather than staying put on their own little castles, however, many sold up and sparked a boom that not only prevented poorer folks from getting on the property ladder, but also depleted the stocks of social housing.

Interestingly, the majority of those interviewed decry this divisive policy, but no one admits to taking the plunge themselves. Yet, while Morgan ticks off his grandchildren for going to grammar schools and voting Tory after making something of themselves, Terry shamefacedly admits to being a `child of Thatcher' and concedes that she created some of the opportunities that he has been able to seize. But she also presided over the economic shift that saw companies like Ilford, Carreras and Ford's Tractor Unit close down. As the premises were converted into warehouses, the younger members of the workforce decamped to the City and the Loadsamoney mentality began to seep in.

In the midst of such seismic changes, playwright Arnold Wesker was invited to examine the town's shifting dynamics and priorities and Rob recalls taking him to task for downplaying the levels of grassroots artistic activity in his play, Beorhtel's Hill. In one scene, some children ran towards a rainbow and Silkin had hopes that town and country would sit cheek by jowl in his new towns. Basildon's developers separated the industrial from the residential with Gloucester Park and Steve and Penny remember the free facilities that were provided to keep children amused and occupied. But, as the 1980s advanced, such amenities were withdrawn, as the council had to tighten its belt and private sports and drama clubs competed for the patronage of the upper bracket.  

Developers eventually got their hands on Gloucester Park and the lake was drained so that flats could be built. Conversely, places like the Laindon Shopping Centre was allowed to decline and it now stands empty, with one speaker comparing it to something from East Germany in the 1960s. Such has been the decline of Basildon town centre that the only McDonald's and Kentucky Fried Chicken outlets are in retail parks on the outskirts. Ralph, Mike and Steve despair of a council that is more interested in retail and parking lots than culture and Steve has created a puppet called Old Man Stan to create online assaults on the narrow-minded hacks who are unable to see the value of creativity to the wider community.

Vince and Rob hark back to the founding failure to keep family networks together when people were shunted out of the East End. Coupled with a lack of common heritage, this fragmentation of the old order meant that new towns spawned insularity, as newcomers huddled in their little boxes and pined for days gone by. Housewives became particularly cut off and a generation of women became hooked on pills to cure the neuroses caused by new town living. Kath and Pat remember how their painter brother/son Alan turned to drink and Mike, Phil and Steve also admit to seeking that form of oblivion, while others took drugs.

Over shots of estates shrouded in darkness and mist, Mike reads a poem about broken families and various voices discuss the bad reputation that Basildon has around the country. Most regret the fact that residents are considered irredeemable lowbrows who just want to party and settle for second best and Phil sings a mournful ballad about the stuffing being knocked out of the town, as the camera tours a centre that has long lost the vibrancy its founding fathers had sought to engender. Even the Grade II listed fountain has run dry.

But the likes of Joe Hymas stayed while others fled and he has remained at the heart of the town's music scene and the likes of Sue Ryder Paget and Tim Williams (who run walking tours) wish that the council would cater for the music fans who come on pilgrimage to the place that nurtured Depeche Mode and Yazoo. As gallery owner Vin insists, art is not dead in Basildon and Shaun Badham shows off the climbing frames he has transformed with glow-in-the-dark paint. Moreover, the spirit of the town continues to flicker and Richard concludes that, while it may have had its faults, the new town experiment was well worth conducting.

Nicely photographed and neatly edited to the strains of Greg Haines's affecting score, this is an accomplished piece of work that consistently recalls such classic documentaries as Arthur Elton and Edgar Anstey's Housing Problems (1935), Humphrey Jennings's A Diary for Timothy (1945) and Jill Craigie's The Way We Live (1946). However, it falls a long way short of their sociological acuity, as Smith ignores issues like the problems inherited from the romanticised East End and the influx of ethnic groups. Indeed, there isn't a single non-white face among the talking heads and this damning absence seriously undermines the film's value and credibility.

The lack of chronological precision also makes it difficult to gauge the town's timescale after the first house was built in 1951. Moreover, Smith overlooks such crucial facets of urban life as sport, religion and transport, while playing down the contribution made by Basildon's bigger firms to the leisure options of their employees and their families. There is also a discomfitingly chauvinist edge to the focus on the working man when there is clearly much to say about the pressures of being a housewife raising a family in less than ideal circumstances. So, while the contributors are genial and perceptive and many of the topics they discuss are scarcely restricted to new town living, their viewpoint is too restricted. Consequently, this risks becoming a showcase for a clutch of local (white, male) performers.

Los Angeles has the largest concentration of homeless people in the United States and documentarist Mark Hayes was embarrassed when his wife, Gabrielle - who had grown up in East Germany - asked why one of the richest countries in the world tolerated such a shameful situation. He couldn't provide an adequate answer and makes no attempt to do so in Skid Row Marathon. However, in profiling a judge who set up a running club to give the regulars at the Midnight Mission shelter a sense of purpose, Hayes reminds viewers that everyone living on the streets has a story and that our common humanity means we simply don't have the option to walk on by.

Judge Craig Mitchell takes no pleasure in handing out life sentences and admits that the duty he undertakes on society's behalf has a psychological impact. So, when a former prisoner invited him to meet the people who were helping him turn his life round at the Midnight Mission in Skid Row, Mitchell hit upon the idea of forming a running club to give those interested something to focus on. Among those to sign up were David Askew, an African-American artist who had just come out of prison after spending a decade on the streets and Ben Shirley, the bassist with 1990s rock band UPO, who had turned to drink in order to cope with the pressures of success and had been jailed after a serious of road accidents while under the influence.

He is now studying music theory at the local college and has introduced musician girlfriend Ashley to the group. Another to seize a chance at redemption was Rafael Cabrera, who had been jailed at 18 for a gang shooting. Now 47, he tells schoolchildren about resisting the lure of crime and is proud of the close friendship he has with Mitchell through the correspondence they exchanged while he was behind bars. The judge's wife, Juliet Ingram, reveals that he had considered a vocation to the priesthood and she believes he channels this sense of humanity into the running club.

Mitchell has arranged for some of his athletes to compete in a marathon in the Ghanaian capital, Accra. However, Askew can't get a passport because he doesn't have a birth certificate and Mitchell uses the fact he has 23 convictions to prove he is a US citizen because he would have been deported before now if he was not. Shirley also makes the trip with the judge and the trio participate in an informal tribal run before completing the race in gruelling heat. As they relax afterwards, Askew comments on the poverty they have witnessed in the city and vows never to complain about anything again. But he and Shirley are also thankful for having turned their lives around in order to benefit from this once in a lifetime experience.

Back in LA, we meet Mody Diop, a Muslim student from Senegal who abandoned his course in New York after getting into drugs, and Rebecca Hayes, a single mom from Seattle who has conquered her heroin addiction. They are new members of the club, with Diop getting up early to train before opening his luggage shop and Hayes running before completing the education she had neglected as a teenager. Askew hopes to remain connected after he leaves the Midnight Mission to move into his own digs. Shirley has also found a place and is preparing his application piece for the San Francisco Conservatory.

But not everyone is so fortunate. As a parolee, Cabrera has to watch his step and he has his life sentence reinstated after being detained for intervening in an incident involving the cops and a couple of Hispanic kids. Despite the fact he has devoted himself to pastoral work, he falls foul of the system on the word of arresting officers who accused him of being drunk. Fortunately, lawyer Scott Wood gets the case dismissed and Cabrera marks his release by visiting the grave of the 15 year-old kid he killed when he was an angry youth with no sense of right and wrong.

Mitchell doesn't believe that a life should be defined by one horrendous act. As a boy, he witnessed the brutality of the LAPD during the Watts Riots in 1965 and is grateful to his mother (who died the following year) for giving him such a good grounding in reality. He is now planning a marathon in Rome and wants Askew to see the great art in the city to inspire him to make it as a painter in his own right and coaxes him back into pounding the streets after several months away. Hayes is also keen to make the trip and mother Jennifer Mims agrees to babysit so she can go. But Diop loses his chance when he has a major relapse and is expelled from the Midnight Mission, which operates a zero tolerance policy. Mentor Moses Khuu finds him a room, but he feels guilty for letting Mitchell down.

Askew also has a self-image problem and doesn't feel he deserves the sponsorship to take him to Italy. But he makes the plane, as does Cabrera, who is taken off parole days before the flight. Shirley also has other things on his mind, as he has to record his string quartet and discovers that he will learn whether he has been accepted by the conservatory while he is in Rome. Mitchell's son, Jordan, has just graduated and he extols his father's virtues, while also disclosing that he continues to run in spite of medical advice, as he has had extensive surgery to cure problems with his neck and back. But he is on a mission, as he is following the example of Pope Francis, who used to take poor people on seaside holidays to give them an experience that would restore their sense of dignity. Mitchell hopes his running club expeditions can do the same for those fortunate enough to go.

Askew and Shirley revels in the chance to see the art and music treasures on display in the Vatican, while Cabrera is grateful for the chance to take his elderly mother to a posh hotel after she had spent so much time sleeping in cheap motels while visiting him in prison. Hayes bursts into tears at the prospect that her son can escape the cycle of misery that engulfed her and she receives her medal at the finishing line with a great sense of achievement. They detour to Florence, where Shirley hears he has secured a place and Mitchell uses his success to urge the audience into being kinder to the people in the margins because they have so much to offer and just need encouragement.

Shortly afterwards, Hayes is offered a midwifery job in Seattle, while Askew starts at a drug rehab facility in Culver City and Cabrera gets a job advising customers on how to save water and power. But, as he sends Shirley off to the conservatory with a hug, Mitchell reassures us that he will be there for Diop if and when he needs him, as no one deserves to be left behind. Yet, as the closing caption reveals, there are 57,000 souls living on the streets or in shelters in the City of Angels and too few are offered the kind of hope provided by Judge Mitchell's running club.

This may not be the most insightful or innovative of documentaries, as it has a tendency to meander and accentuate the positive when a little more focus on the grimmer realities of being homeless and an addict or ex-con might have put the experiences of the profiled quintet into a more tangible context. However. Mark and Gabrielle Hayes do a splendid job in showing how lives can be reclaimed through self-restraint and the comfort of strangers. Rafael Cabrera, Ben Shirley, David Askew, Rebecca Hayes and Mody Diop deserve enormous credit for sharing their stories, as they take the first steps towards normalcy. But the biggest plaudits have to go to Craig Mitchell, who is not solely driven by Christian charity, but also by a unique appreciation of the social injustices that lie behind so many of the cases that come to his court.

Editors Tchavdar Georgiev and Benjamin Dohrman might have kept a tighter rein on the sometimes bitty storyline, while Kim Planert's score occasionally errs towards lachrymosity. But James Stoltz's imagery is crisp, while the film more than fulfils its hope that viewers will reflect on the kindness and camaraderie offered by this second chance initiative. Indeed, it's to be hoped that the organisers of the London Marathon get to see it and extend the hand of welcome to the remarkable Judge Mitchell and his inspirational club.

Since making his name in the TV series Sunny Piggy (2000), Xu Zheng has become one of China's biggest movie stars. Having worked regularly with director Ning Hao on Crazy Stone (2006), Crazy Racer (2009) and No Man's Land (2013). Xu went behind the camera himself while teaming with frequent co-star Wao Baoqiang on Lost in Thailand (2012) and Lost in Hong Kong (2015), which became two of the highest grossing films in Chinese screen history. Now, he returns to the ranks for Ren Pengyuan's twisting crime thriller, A or B.

Billionaire Zhong Xiaonian (Wu Zheng) has made a fortune on the stock market to keep wife Simeng (Wang Likum) in the lap of luxury. He might still get breakfast from the same wonton shop, but he has sold his soul in bending the rules and Simeng has had enough. With her request for a divorce still ringing in his ears, Zhong goes to an auction and outbids jewellery heiress and mistress Zhuang Yi (Zhu Zhu) for a diamond ring and rattles the cage of business associate Tang Wanyuan (Wang Yanhui), who has grown tired of the unscrupulous arrogance that drove former CEO Zeng Guangwen (Simon Yam) to jump off a skyscraper roof.

Having arrived home drunk to find Simeng has already left him, Zhong wakes with a hangover the next morning. He also finds he is locked inside his modernist residence and that his retina-protected safe has been cleared. Moreover, the window looking out on to his pool has been blocked with wood and he is informed by an unseen caller on a walkie-talkie he finds in a box under the sofa that he will be contacted when the market opens at 9:30 each morning and asked to make a choice between two options. When he refuses to play along, Zhong is dismayed to discover from the TV news that the Caller has not only announced his divorce, but also exposed his tax evasion.

Cutting his forehead in a bid to pull some of the wood away from the window, Zhong realises that his persecutor has taken over his remote-controlled house and can even alter the lighting and the temperature in the room. Distressed to see a news report that Simeng has attempted suicide, he stirs the next morning to be faced with a choice between having his stock manipulation tactics revealed or betraying old classmate and Tang's assistant, Zhu Nan (Zhao Da), as a trade spy. He plumps for the latter before opening the back of the walkie talkie to widen its reception and manages to make contact with financial reporter Tian Yu (Duan Bowen), who thinks he is being prank called.

As Tang comes to the house with special contact lenses to open Zhong's safe, he turns a hairdryer into a drill to cut his way through the panels of a door leading into a network of back passages. As he explores by the light of  his phone, Tang overturns Zhu's car after a chase along a winding road and traps him inside. Zhu tosses his boss a memory stick and phones the Caller to contact Zhong about revealing the secret code in order to save his life. But, while Zhong responds, Tang tosses a cigar into a pool of petrol and Zhu perishes in a fireball.

Meanwhile, Zhuang visits Simeng in hospital and she reveals that a mystery caller had contacted her to ask if she would be willing to die to protect her husband's reputation. She had made her choice, but believes that Zhong is still being held captive. In fact, he has smashed the faux antiquarian statue whose eye has been fitted with a CCTV camera and clambered through a panel in the ceiling. But a grille prevents him escaping into the hills, while Tian (who is camping nearby) still thinks he is playing a joke by contacting him on the walkie-talkie.

The next morning, Zhong is confronted with admitting to money laundering or having murdered Zeng. He tells the Caller that he has never killed anyone and will give him 100 million yuan to end the ordeal. But his tormentor is disappointed that he thinks money is the answer to everything and wonders if all rich people are as pathetic as he is. However, he changes one of the options to challenge Zhong to reveal details of his private bank account and he seizes this switch to prove to Tian that his nightmare is real by telling him about the Zeng confession before it's broadcast on the radio. Demanding an exclusive interview, Tian agrees to help.

While this story is breaking, the TV news has also stated that Zhong died in the blazing car rather than Zhu and Tang exploits the deception to warn Simeng that he will harm her unborn child unless she uses her power as Zhong's heir to hand over the company and the codes to the secret account. While she ponders her decision, Zhong causes a fire to guide Tian to the grating and he pulls it off with a steel rope attached to his vehicle. Once free, Zhong calls Simeng in her hospital room and arranges to meet her at the house. She is furious with him for conducting his business in such a cavalier manner, but recognises that they are both in danger from Tang and the Caller.

They hide out in their first apartment, which Zhong has kept exactly as it was when they left. Simeng is touched and wishes they could run away and start again. But Zhong insists on clearing his name (even though Tang has already told the media that the Weibo confessions were bogus) and informs Tian that the Caller had built an exact replica of the inside of his house in order to disorientate him. But the bed wasn't exactly the same, as they use a special mattress for Simeng's back and he tells Tian that they can expose the culprit if they can find out who ordered the wrong bed.

Sorting through files in a darkened room, they find an invoice made out to Zeng and Zhong realises that he didn't jump to his death after all. He explains that he and Teng had been ordered by the investors to get Zeng out of the company, as he had been manipulating the markets. But he had gone mad and is now seeking his revenge, while Tang is trying to get hold of the money from the crooked transactions that had been paid into Zhong's account by legal means. They go to the old part of town and Zhong tracks down the room the Caller has been using. But a hoodied figure gives him the slip in the maze of side streets and he returns home to Simeng, whose pregnancy has just been announced on the news.

He asks why she didn't tell him and she complains that he knows so little about her that she didn't feel he was entitled to know. She reveals how she gave up her ambitions to be a war correspondent to marry him and sank into a depression when she realised how corrupt and greedy he was. Zhong apologises and admits that he transferred the contents of the secret account to Zhuang to protect them from Simeng's divorce lawyer. However, he suggests that she visits Tang and Zhuang to offer them the chance to buy her shares in the company at the next day's closing price and they fall into the trap, with Zhuang even agreeing to make her payment in gold.

Zhong fails to notice a tracking device on the bullion van. So, when he releases footage of Tang killing Zhu to drive down the share price, Tang knows all about his rendezvous with the Caller on a remote railway bridge. Thus, no sooner has he handed over the envelope full of incriminating evidence than he is bludgeoned by Tang, who tosses his body on to a passing train. However, as he raves about Zhong humiliating him, police sirens sound and Tang is fooled into believing he is surrounded and limps off along the railway line. Zhong tells Tian to arrange a press conference for the following morning and returns home to give Simeng the ring he won at auction and to beg her to stay with him. 

No sooner has Zhong finished speaking to the press, however, than he gets a call on his phone showing him an image of Simeng wearing a bomb vest. He is given another A or B choice to leave the hall or for the game to continue. But he is also ordered to strip to his underwear and strap on his own bomb belt, which is hidden in the podium. Tian and the other reporters follow him in the square, where he rummages around in the rubbish bins to find a gun and instructions to kill a journalist or lose his wife.

Before he can shoot, however, a sniper takes out one of the throng and Zhong manages to slip away in the confusion in the bullion van. He drives to an underground car park, where Zhuang claims she has come to help him. Another message gives him the option to leave with her or reveal the code to the van safe. But she tries to stop him from giving away her money and, as they wrestle, she is struck by a speeding car being driven by Tang, who drags Zhong to the van and orders him to open the door. However, Zhong is able to grab one of the gold bars and beat Tang unconscious.

Speeding up the stairs, he gets to the roof to find Simeng chained to an iron frame. He spots a remote and turns on a nearby screen, on which Zeng Yu explains that he is Zeng's son and that he is putting Zhong through hell because the investors threatened him and his mother and drove Zeng to kill himself in a bid to preserve their anonymity. He also reveals that the vests are self-activating and that Zhong can save Simeng if he sacrifices himself. Having apologised for getting things so wrong and urged Simeng to take care of their child, he falls backwards off the roof and pulls the detonation cord on the way down.

As the credits roll, however, we see Zhong in prison with a shaved head. While waiting to go on trial, he receives visits from Zeng Yu and Simeng and hears that an anonymous donor has given a sizeable fortune to charity. He also hears that Tang has been sentenced to death. But as Simeng explains that she has always insisted on going back to the same wonton shop as they had gone there on their first date, a closing caption reveals that Yu was arrested abroad and charged with abducting and tormenting Zhong, only for the penitent billionaire to appeal for clemency.

Rather unfairly dismissed in some quarters as a convoluted bore, this may not have the character and thematic depth of a Korean noir, but it rattles along with no little ingenuity and conviction. Despite the odd jab at China's `big croc' oligarchs, Ren Pengyuan's script may not be watertight, but he makes atmospheric use of Li Jianing's magnificent interiors and liaises well with cinematographer Liu Yizeng and editor Li Nanyi to keep the action zipping along once it breaks out of its chic confines. Peng Fei's score might lack personality, but it keeps pounding away as Wu Zheng is buffeted around like a pinball in a badly fitting wig.

Hairpiece aside, Wu does well to keep the audience rooting for such a thoroughly disreputable character, although his financial misdeeds are so nebulous that his gravest crime seems to be his neglect of Wang Likun. Wang Yanhui contributes some hissable villainy, but most viewers will be disappointed by the fact that the Caller turns out to be a previously unmentioned character with unfeasibly fiendish tech skills who isn't even credited in the closing crawl. The dissemination of further plot points via inserts and captions also feels slipshod. But it would come as no surprise to learn that the rights have been sold to a mid-ranking American producer seeking a high-concept vehicle for an ageing action star.