Parky at the Pictures (In Cinemas 30/5/2019)

Budapest 1913 and Írisz Leiter (Juli Jakab) causes something of a stir when she applies for a position as a milliner at the prestigious hat shop that had been founded by her parents, Róza and Leopold. Manageress Zelma (Evelin Dobos) is shocked to hear her surname and new owner Oszkár Brill (Vlad Ivanov) is intrigued that she has come all the way from Trieste, after she was adopted from an orphanage after her parents perished in a fire that had gutted the premises when she was two. Brill notes the family resemblance, as Írisz looks at the photographs he keeps in his quarters. But he regrets to inform her that he cannot offer her a position and Írisz leaves with nettled pride to find lodging at the old family home, which is now a dormitory for the milliners. 

Whispers swirl, as the caretaker (Mihály Kormos) shows Írisz to a room and makes it clear that she is not particularly welcome, even though she had been born here. He becomes grumpier when she is pestered in the night by Gáspár (Levente Molnár), a grizzled coachman who puzzles Írisz by mentioning the fact she has a brother before setting light to some curtains with his lantern after a struggle with the caretaker on the landing. The next morning, Brill arrives with a first-class train ticket and a promise that he will contact Írisz if a position ever arises. But she refuses to leave and pays a visit to the orphanage that had billeted her in Trieste, where she learns from Mrs Müller (Móni Balsai) that she has a sibling named Kálmán, who was somehow mixed up in the murder of Count Rédey. 

Determined to discover the truth, Írisz gatecrashes a garden party being thrown by Brill to mark the 30th anniversary of the founding of Leiter's and he is left with little option but to introduce her to his guests. Among them is Countess Rédey (Julia Jakubowska), who is still grieving for her husband and strides up to Írisz to glare at her, as Brill prepares to launch a hot-air balloon bearing the company name. He explains that the Rédey incident blackened the Leiter name and, after Írisz is asked to help out during the anniversary rush, we hear shopgirls at the guest house gossiping about a brutal murder that the Countess had been forced to witness. When they leave to attend a dance, Írisz follows and is rescued from a lustful soldier by Sándor Jakab (Marcin Czarnik), who claims to have known her brother and urges her to leave because there will be bloodshed before the celebrations are over. However, Andór (Benjamin Dino), who does odd jobs at the shop insists that Kálman is a good man rescued him from the gutter and he hopes that Írisz brings him back to the shop, where he had worked before falling out with Brill. 

The next day, the Countess causes a scene at the shop and only calms down when Írisz serves her. Ducking out of a line-up assembled so that a courtier can select girls to meet the member of the Habsburg royal family who is due to visit the shop, Írisz takes a coach to the rundown Rédey estate. She finds the Countess with a drug pipe in her hand and asks her for information about her brother. However, they are interrupted by the arrival of Otto von König (Christian Harting), a Viennese bigwig who evidently knows and fears Kálmán and, while forcing his attentions upon her, he warns the Countess against stepping out of line. As she watches impassively, Írisz notices a small boy peering around the door to see why his mother is so distressed. But neither intervene, as Von König rapes the Countess as brutally as her husband had once done. 

On returning to Leiter, Írisz asks Andór if her brother had been trying to protect the Countess from her brutish spouse. He refuses to respond, however, and Írisz is whisked away by Brill to witness the opening of a room that has been sealing up since the Empress Elizabeth supposedly dropped a hatpin during a visit. Such is the regard in which `Sissi' is held that there are gasps of delight when the planking is ripped away and Brill escorts Írisz inside and orders her to restore the room so that it is fit for a princess. Once again, she decides she has better things to do and takes a tram to the end of the line in order to find Gáspár. A funeral is taking place and the rough residents of the encampment jostle Írisz, as she searches for the coachman. He rummages in his pockets for something a man at the shop had supposedly given him, but he is pushed away by his boss, who tells Írisz to sling her hook. As she leaves, she is set upon by a group of rapacious thugs and is lucky to be rescued by Sándor. She asks if he is Kálmán, but he shushes her, puts her in a coach and advises her never to return. 

Stopping the tram, giving minder Nulla (Balázs Czukor) the slip and hitching a lift with Gáspár, Írisz attends a soirée at the Countess's yellow villa. She looks on, as the hostess shows off her son's musical abilities and spots Von König by her side. Fearing that her brother is about to do something reckless, Írisz hastens up a staircase to see Kálmán attempt to murder Von König and accidentally shoot the Countess. As chaos breaks out and Kálmán's gang relieve the guests of the valuables, Írisz promises to fetch help for the wounded noblewoman. But she is bundled into a carriage by one of her brother's lieutenants and finds herself being rowed across the Danube to safety. Kálmán reveals that he plans to destroy the shop because Brill is little more than a glorified pimp who sells the milliners into sexual slavery. He was particularly close to a girl named Fanni Braun and he intends wreaking revenge on her behalf. 

Írisz protests that she barely knows him and is shocked when he slaps her face and orders her to stay put. At first light, however, she tries to escape and, when Sándor swims after her, she attacks him with the oar and his body floats away on the current. Rushing back to the shop, Írisz tells Brill what has happened and he sends Szilágyi (Zsolt Nagy) to investigate. She confesses that she should have heeded his warnings and Brill urges her to deny she was anywhere near the Countess's home. 

As preparations continue for the royal visit, Zelma remains cross with Írisz for putting Brill in danger, because Kálmán had once tried to kill him. Szeréna (Judit Bárdos) is also angry with Írisz for failing to help them tidy up Sissi's room and she is further admonished for venturing outside when the coach bearing the Prince (Tom Pilath) and the Princess (Susanne Wuest) arrives. However, Zelma ushers her indoors and Brill selects her to take the Princess's measurements for two new hats. She is distracted by the sound of an explosion in the courtyard, however, and turns from the scene of some misfiring fireworks to see the royal couple hurriedly take their leave. 

The milliners attend a Jubilee fair in the city and Írisz accompanies Lili (Dorottya Moldován) when she goes to see a Tarot reader. As she wanders through the tent, she thinks she sees Kálmán in a small group of men listening to a reading, but loses sight of him when the bright sunlight hits her eyes. Once again, Írisz is ticked off for straying from the others and they return to the shop, where Brill is having the girls fitted for new dresses. He insists that Zelma also gets a new gown, but tells Írisz that she will not be among those to be chosen, as he gives her a locket that had once belonged to her mother. 

Something about the rigmarole perplexes Írisz, especially when she learns that the chosen girl will return to Vienna with the royals. The old retainer fitting the dresses claims that the practice dates back to her mother's day and Írisz asks Andór if he knows what happened to Fanni Braun (Tamara Dózsa), who was the last girl to be selected. He refuses to answer, but is intrigued to hear that Írisz has seen Kálmán and he pleads with her to bring him back to the shop. 

Ignoring an order from Róbert (Péter Fancsikai) to stay in the workshop, Írisz goes in search of Fanni and sees her peering through a half-open door after hearing her signing. She returns to the shop, with her eyes burning with indignation sparked by what she has heard, and is set to work on the hats for the Princess. After her shift is over, however, Írisz asks Robert to escort her to The Sphinx at the end of the tramline and to row along the river in search of Sándor's body. There's no sign of him anywhere and Robert suggests she accepts the evidence of her own eyes. 

Back at the shop, Írisz confronts Nulla, who has been following her. She finds the milliners having supper in their white finery and Brill reassures her that she has nothing to fear from her brother or his gang. Lili appears agitated and Írisz asks if she knows what happens to the chosen girl. But she refuses to answer and denies being afraid, as Brill ushers his employees down the stairs. Naturally, Írisz follows and sees her co-workers dancing with various partners under the watchful gaze of a monocled man in white (Björn Freiberg). He comments on her plain blue dress and calls her by name in regretting that she cannot be chosen to go to Vienna. Instead, he cuts in on Zelma and Írisz asks one of Brill's sidekicks to take her home. 

Overhearing Zelma's reluctance to join the royals, Írisz grabs her hat and rushes down to the waiting landau. Andór looks askance, as she drives away, with the Leiter hat boxes beside her on the seat. On arriving at the royal residence, she is told to hand over her hat and remove her shoes. She is shown into the Prince's chamber, where he is being attended by the man in white and various other courtiers. They fawn over her, as she tries on the hats the Princess has commissioned. The Prince offers her a glass of water, but she can't bring herself to drink and bolts for the door. It opens to reveal Brill waiting for her and Zelma shoots her a look of disdain, as she removes her hat and passes into the Prince's quarters.

While returning to the shop, Brill curses Írisz for interfering and for going to see Fanni. He insists what happened to her was an accident and he denies that Zelma has gone with the royals against her will. Having been examined by Dr Herz (Sándor Zsótér) - who confides that Kálmán was pitched into the abyss because he discovered what his parents were up to - Írisz is locked in her room. But Andór knocks on her door to warn her that Kálmán's gang is coming to attack the shop and she dresses in her brother's old clothes (which she had found in a trunk) and clambers out of the window. 

Walking away unnoticed, she hears chatter about the shop, but strides on to The Sphinx club, where Kálmán's gang has assembled. Swept along by the rush of angry males, Írisz accepts a ride from Nulla and watches on as Leiter is set alight by the whooping mob. Seeking out Andór, she tells him he's been spared and urges him to flee. But Brill perishes and Írisz feels little pity when she sees his corpse. Removing her masculine attire, she disappears into the Budapest night. 

As the film ends, the camera weaves along a Great War trench. Austro-Hungarian troops prop themselves up against the parapet and try to keep their feet out of the standing water. For the first time, the depth of field is extended and objects in the middle and far distance are as clear as those in the foreground. Coming to a halt, the camera peers into the darkness of an enclave and a figure comes into the light. It's Írisz, who has disguised herself as a man to fight for the crumbling empire that had done so little to deserve her loyalty. 

While critics struggle to agree on the merits of this dramatically and aesthetically ambitious crinoline noir, it seems clear that Nemes has managed to use the reduced depth of field technique pioneered on Son of Saul in creating a broader canvas. Shooting on 35mm, cinematographer Mátyás Erdély spends much of his time following in the wake of Juli Jakab, with his lens trained on the nape of her neck rather than the people and things occupying the spaces into which she is moving. The visuals recall those employed by José Luis Guerin in In the City of Sylvia (2007), but we see a lot less of Budapest than we did of Strasbourg. Indeed, by shortening the perspective and casting much of the mise-en-scène into a stylised blur, Nemes ensures that we see less than his dangerously naive, but capriciously spirited heroine, as the traverses the Hungarian capital in search of the clues that will help her make sense of the various mysteries she has unearthed. 

For much of the time, the viewer gets to learn less than the protagonist, as Nemes and editor Mattieu Taponier (who co-wrote the screenplay with Clara Royer) end scenes before vital information is imparted and start others with close-ups of Jakab's face as she processes what she has just been told. This makes it tricky for those not paying full attention to piece the puzzle together. But Nemes drizzles telltale snippets and part of the film's pleasure lies in fathoming how characters from across the social spectrum fit into the grand design. Indeed, the 1913 feels apt, as Nemes's approach to storytelling resembles the episodic template concocted by French director Louis Feuillade in such serials as Fantômas. 

In fact, for all its twists and sinister overtones, the storyline isn't that compelling. But the piecemeal approach makes it seem more enigmatic than it is. In this regard, the picture recalls Howard Hawks's The Big Sleep (1946), Carol Reed's The Third Man (1949), Stanley Kubrick's Eyes Wide Shut (1999), and David Lynch's Blue Velvet (1986) and even Twin Peaks (1990-91) in connivingly seeking to keep the audience confused. The retail setting also evokes memories of Ernst Lubitsch's The Shop Around the Corner (1940). But the fact that Nemes appears to be using this form of toxic nostalgia to comment on the prejudices on which Viktor Orbán has built his pernicious brand of populism also brings to mind Michael Haneke's The White Ribbon (2009), which was also set in 1913 and conveys the air of a society dancing on the edge of a volcano. 

Although Erdély's immersive camerawork often obscures them, László Rajk's production design and Györgyi Szakács's costumes couldn't be better, while the ensemble playing recalls the exemplary precision of the cast in Aleksandr Sokurov's Russian Ark (2002), as they hit their marks and deliver their lines with insouciant naturalism during the often lengthy takes. We should also mention the bookending shots. The opening vue d'optique shows the sun setting on a grand shop facade so that backlighting gives the appearance of fairy lights twinkling and windows glowing within the image. This harking back to the prehistory of cinema that was explored with such charm by Werner Nekes in Film Before Film (1986) contrasts with the 65mm dolly shot through the Great War trench that recalls the teasing modernism of Virginia Woolf's Orlando by showing Írisz in male attire, as she stands ready to confront the challenges that lie ahead. Her stare also fixes the gaze of the viewer, as if inquiring whether they have understood each nuance and allusion of her odyssey or whether they need to take a second look.

You don't have to sport a dragon tattoo to wreak vengeance, but it helps. The female fury film has a chequered history, with its serious themes often being hijacked for exploitationary purposes, as can be seen from some of the titles in this list: François Truffaut's The Bride Wore Black (1968), Toshiya Fujita's Lady Snowblood (1973-74), Meir Zarchi's I Spit on Your Grave (1978), Abel Ferrara's Ms 45 (1981), Robert Greenwald's The Burning Bed (1984), Quentin Tarantino's Kill Bill (2003-04), David Slade's Hard Candy, Park Chan-wook's Lady Vengeance (both 2005), Neil Jordan's The Brave One (2007), Coralie Fargeat's Revenge, Sofia Coppola's The Beguiled (both 2017) and Pierre Morel's Peppermint (2018). 

However, the debuting Sarah Daggar-Nickson puts a new #MeToo era spin on the avenging angel character in A Vigilante, which makes for compelling comparison with the Charles Bronson Death Wish movies (1974-94) and Lynne Ramsay's You Were Never Really Here (2017). It might stray a little towards generic territory in the final third, but this is an intelligently unsettling variation on a theme that would spark some lively discussions after being paired in a double bill with Martin McDonagh's Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri (2017).

Living out of a suitcase in New York state, Sadie (Olivia Wilde) answers the coded calls of women enduring domestic abuse. On hearing the phrase, `the trucks won't stop coming', Sadie helps the likes of Andrea Shaund (Betty Aidem) by using coercion and violence to force husband Michael (CJ Wilson) to transfer three-quarters of his assets into his wife's bank account, sign over their home and quit his job as a financier. Moreover, as she escorts him off the premises, the reminds him that she will kill him if he ever bothers his wife again and that she will take pleasure in dispatching him. 

When not dispensing rough justice, however, Sadie suffers from panic attacks in her motel rooms and the scars on her back can be seen in the half light, as she seeks solace in a treasured drawing. She needs this to help her sleep, as well as the knife she keeps under her pillow. But Sadie can look after herself, having taught herself the Krav Maga self-defence technique from a manual, and she regularly checks into a gym for strenuous punch bag workouts. Moreover, she keeps the items she needs for her self-applied disguises hidden in a car in the woods. 

Having listened in flashback to a black woman (Estefania Tejeda) relate her story at a shelter help group run by Beverly (Tonye Patano), we see Sadie respond to a trucks call from Charlene Jackson (Cheryse Dyllan) and leaves her hog-tied husband kneeling on the floor, while she smashes anything that will break in the home that had become her prison. Refusing to take payment for her services. Sadie sees Charlene drive off towards a new life and heads back to the motel to remove her make-up and bop to some driving rock. Having played arcade games and watched some kids ice skating, she goes for a drink in a seedy bar, where two guys attempt to assault her in the car park. However, she leaves them in a heap and warns them never to try a similar stunt again.

Changing her car, Sadie picks up a message from a former client about two boys being abused by the addict mother (Paige Rhea). As she is sparked on the sofa, tweenager Zach (Kyle Catlett) lets Sadie into their apartment and she frees his younger brother, Leon, from the bathroom after knocking their mom out cold when she tries to resist. When she tells Zach that she is going to entrust them to social services, Sadie has to fight back a tear. But she promises him that things will improve and urges him to call if he ever needs her. The sight of a small boy in such distress gets under her guard, however, and she sobs in the car.

At a group meeting, Sadie reveals that her husband (Morgan Spector) used to terrorise her between survivalist camping trips with their son, Cody. One day, when he came home with a new trailer and told Sadie that they were going to live off  the grid, she had tried to flee. But he had caught up with them and killed their child in a rage. He promptly vanished and Sadie learned from a lawyer (Chuck Cooper) that he had saddled her with so much debt that their house was going to be repossessed. Moreover, as he has gone into hiding, she couldn't claim on his life insurance. 

One of the women at the shelter (Jude Marte) had reprimanded Sadie for cowering in corners and spending her days reading children's books. Thus, after she had returned to the house to collect some belongings (including the black-and-white picture Cody had been working on before he died), she decides to dedicate herself to those who can't fight back. However, she has not given up hope of finding her husband and has settled in the Adirondack region where they had once camped. Indeed, she has been marking off areas she has searched on a map and is dismayed one night when her husband takes her by surprise in her motel room and abducts her. 

When she comes round, she is gaffer-taped and gagged in a remote shack and her spouse gloats about the fact that he spotted her in the forest and had been able to get a jump on her. He rips up the drawing and tosses it into the stove before going off for food. However, Sadie has secreted a blade under the skin on her wrist and she uses her fingernail to gouge it out and free herself. When her husband returns, however, she hesitates with a hunting knife at his throat and he is able to overpower her. Ordering her to place her arm on a wooden slat, he stomps on her and shatters the bone. But he makes the mistake of turning his back on her and Sadie is able to escape. 

She trudges through the deep snow and finds an abandoned factory, where she makes a splint from a piece of metal and some tape. Her husband follows her and shows her that he is unarmed, as he stands on the side  of a covered-up swimming pool. Sadie emerges from her hiding place and sneers when he claims to still love her and wants her to come home. She accuses him of having a perverse need to control her and vows to avenge their son, as she slowly closes in on her husband, who seems powerless to defend himself when she stabs him, as he is stricken with remorse. 

Taking a snapshot of her son from the cabin, Sadie dumps her spouse's naked body in the middle of a country road in the dead of night. When the lawyer contacts her through Beverly (who has always known about her double life), he informs her that the cops want her to identify the corpse and provide proof of her movements for the last month. Moreover, he tells her that the life insurance can now be paid and Sadie holds back a quiet smile of satisfaction, as she now has the means to devote herself to her vocation on a full-time basis. 

Tautly written and directed by Sarah Daggar-Nickson and played with a wholly credible blend of steel and compassion by Olivia Wilde, this is a gruelling realist exposé of the agony that so many women endure at the hands of brutal and manipulative partners. In order to provide a little balance, Daggar-Nickson shows two small boys at the mercy of a junkie mother. But the focus falls predominantly on gaslight relationships, in which wives and mothers are too scared to break away from the tormentors making their lives a misery. 

By having Sadie suffer from both abuse and post-traumatic stress, Daggar-Nickson is able to chart her progress from victim to vigilante in a fragmentary manner that also reflects her damaged psyche. However, the final showdown feels markedly less rigorous than what has gone before, as not only does Sadie turn the tables on her persecutor with unpersuasive ease, but the presentation relies on exploitation thriller tropes rather than reclaiming them. Nevertheless, abetted by cinematographer Alan McIntyre Smith and editors Ben Bauduin and Matthew C. Hart, Daggar-Nickson avoids excess and laudably keeps nearly all of the violence off screen. The pain, however, is there for all to see.

The anonymous French adoption system known as `L'Accouchement Sous X' comes under scrutiny in Jeanne Herry's second feature, In Safe Hands. This might seem something of a leap after Herry had explored the relationship between a middle-aged woman and a fading rocker in the César-nominated Number One Fan (2014). But, in reuniting with the ever-dependable Sandrine Kiberlain, Herry (who is the daughter of singer Julien Clerc and actress Miou-Miou) again explore the notion of co-dependency, as she shows how various health and social care professionals collaborate to find a home for an unwanted newborn, or `pupille' (which is the French title). 

Forty-one year-old Alice (Élodie Bouchez) is so surprised to be offered a two-month baby boy named Théo (Maël Le Bihan) by L'Accouchement Sous X that she had trouble taking in what Irène (Miou-Miou) is saying. Meanwhile, foster parent Jean (Gilles Lellouche) is having such trouble with a pair of traumatised brothers that he informs his case worker that he needs to take a break because he's emotionally exhausted. 

We flash back to Brest on 26 September, as 21 year-old Clara (Leïla Muse) gives birth to Théo, but doesn't want to hold or look at him before giving him up for adoption. While the child is dressed and fed by Elodie (Stéfi Celma), social worker Mathilde (Clotilde Mollet) comes to see Clara in the recovery room and offer her services over the next three days, so that she comes a satisfactory decision about the boy's future. She calmly explains the options and processes and nods when Clara asks if the baby can go to someone who couldn't have children. 

The hospital contacts child welfare officers Isabelle (Julie Recoing) and Karine (Sandrine Kiberlain), who has a feeling that Jean might benefit from fostering a newborn after having such a rough time with his last few teenagers. He wants to turn down the offer, but wife Laure (Anne Suarez) is concerned that he is giving up too easily on his vocation and reminds him that they need two incomes to run the household and care for his daughter, Pauline (Zaig Castel). 

Back in Brest, Clara has a sleepless night and decides to act on Mathilde's recommendation that she should say goodbye to Théo in person and leave him a letter or keepsake should he ever wish to trace his roots. Mathilde is pleasantly surprised by Clara's change of heart, but raises an eyebrow when she announces that she is off to a seminar at college, as she hasn't told anybody about her pregnancy and doesn't want her mother to know that her daughter is capable to giving away her child. 

While Mathilde registers the birth and establishes that the mother has two months to change her mind, Karine takes Jean to meet Théo and he picks up the infant and talks gently to him, in the same way that Karine had explained what will happen over the next few weeks. It's not all plain sailing, however, as one couple (Servane Ducorps and Thibault Vinçon) get angry with ??, when she tells them that the adoption agency doesn't consider them suitable parents. Even Jean gets snapped at by one of the medical team when he comes to bond with Théo. But he is too experienced to be fazed and keeps up a mumbled dialogue with the child sleeping in his arms. 

Through a report into her background, we learn a bit about Alice's personality and circumstances. We also see her yelling at a neighbour who has allowed his pet python to slip into her apartment. She travels to meet adoption assessor Lydie (Olivia Côte) with partner Stéphane (Yannick Choirat), who explains that they decided to adopt after four years of trying for baby of their own. Lydie reassures them that she is here to support not judge them and tells Alice that having counselling to cope with her infertility makes her human not unsuitable. She claims we all walk through minefields and fields of flowers and hopes that such experiences will help them negotiate the problems they will encounter and the awkward questions and behavioural problems they can expect down the line. 

One of Karine's pupilles is struggling with supervised visits with her mother and she reports back to her panel. She also mentions that Théo is a very quiet baby and thinks they should monitor his levels of alertness, as well as the slight heart murmur that was picked up during medical tests. Karine has great faith in Jean and confides in him that her own kids are acting up after the walked out on their father (Bruno Podalydès). He is taken aback because she is always so cheerful, as she sees the best in most situations and always has a sweet or a piece of  chewing gum on the go. 

At the agency, Irène puts Lydie in charge of Théo's case and tells her about a rule change that will allow single mothers to adopt for the first time. As Alice has split up with Stéphane, this keeps her in the frame. She is now working with her doctor father (Jean-François Stévenin) in providing live commentaries for theatre presentations. This development also works in her favour, as it has been discovered that Théo has issues, as he rarely demands food or cries in the night and Karine has to reassure Jean that he is doing a good job with a mite who needs all his attention and affection. 

She is concerned about the boy, however, and is with Jean when Théo fails to respond to his bedroom door slamming. Child psychologist Sophie (Judith Siboni) runs tests and wonders whether there was a trauma during the pregnancy that might explain why the child is so detached. Isabelle calls Mathilde, who insists that Clara has a right to her anonymity and refuses to divulge the contents of her confidential letter. But Sophie and Karine badger her down the phone and ask if she wants the baby's well-being on her conscience, as this matters more than the mother's feelings, as Théo's entire future depends on them understanding the circumstances of his birth. 

Nettled, Mathilde returns to the hospital and learns from Elodie that Clara had remained silent during her 10-minute stay and this prompts Mathilde to read the letter and confide its contents to Théo, while Jean and Karine wait downstairs. That night, he cries for his bottle and Jean notices him fixing his gaze as he feeds. We also see Alice describing the action of a Chekhov play and flashback a couple of years to see her touching base with Lydie. She is expecting her third child and notes that Alice has recovered from the disappointment of failing to adopt a child from Colombia and thinks she is getting close to serious consideration for a newborn or toddler, especially as she has affirmed her readiness to take on a child with special needs. 

Lydie puts Alice's name forward at Irène's next meeting and is frustrated when one of her colleagues rudely challenges her assertions in putting forward a couple of his own. They are offered the chance to adopt Théo, but are three months into their own pregnancy and Irène understands that two children at once might be a bit tricky. So, Alice is chosen and she thanks Lydie for all her help. She gets to meet Théo at the agency, with Isabelle, Jean and Karine looking on. The latter pair have had a bit of a hiccup, as Karine has told Jean she fancies him and he has to admit that his feelings are strictly platonic. But they are focused on their task and help Alice bond with her son, whom she has renamed Matthieu. 

She has a nightmare on the last night of her play, when she loses the remote control for the sound system and her desk lamp fails so that she can't read her script. But Alice wings it, as she must now do as a mother, and she leaves the theatre by giving the haughty male lead (Amaury de Crayencour) a kiss and an offer to call her in six months time. She also promises to keep in touch with Jean, who is sad to see Théo leave, but knows he is doing a job and must retain his distance. Karine comes to the same conclusion, as she sees Jean and Laure together at a party thrown for the staff who have helped bring Alice and her baby together. On arriving home, she gets ready for bed and gazes adoringly at the contented child lying beside her, who reaches out to grasp her finger. 

It's infeasible that Jeanne Herry didn't see and admire Katell Quillévéré's Heal the Living (2016), as that chronicle of a heart transplant has much in common with this dramatically and emotionally riveting adoption saga. In each case, the backstories of the `donor' and `recipient' are sketched in around docurealist segments detailing the medical and social care procedures involved in securing a happy ending. Moreover, both films maintain the delicate balance between involving and informing the viewer by ensuring that the everyday feel carries over from the professional into the domestic situations. 

Although this is an ensemble piece, in which nobody puts a foot wrong, three performances stand out (four, if you count the remarkably impressive Maël Le Bihan). Going on the longest journey, Élodie Bouchez capably conveys how Alice matures as a woman and as a potential parent, as she learns to stand on her own two feet without her father or partner and comes to realise that she will be capable of loving and rearing any child entrusted into her care. Gilles Lellouche also impresses, as the foster father dealing with both a sense of emasculation in having to be the homemaker for his careerist wife and burnout after failing to cope with a pair of disturbed siblings. But it's Sandrine Kiberlain who steals the show, as she manages to compartmentalise her feeling of failure after walking out on her husband and her crush on Lellouche in maintaining a devotion to duty that sometimes requires her to browbeat her colleagues and bend the rules,

Working from a laudably researched script that consistently shows care workers explaining things to the infant to involve him in the process. Herry directs steadily and is ably abetted by production designer Johann George, cinematographer Sofian El Fani and editor Françis Vesin. Pascal Sangla's score can becomes a little emphatic in places, but the tone is never mawkish, as Herry celebrates our interdependence and the truism that life goes on, because it has to. 

A good few features have been expanded from impressive shorts, with Peter Sollett's Five Feet High and Rising (2000) becoming Raising Victor Vargas (2002), Ryan Fleck's Gowanus, Brooklyn (2004) re-emerging as Half Nelson (2006), Jennifer Kent's Monster (2005) morphing into The Babadook (2014), Sean Durkin's Mary Last Seen (2010) being reworked as Martha Marcy May Marlene (2011), and Xavier Legrand's Just Before Losing Everything (2014) leading into Custody (2017). Occasionally, a different director takes responsibility for the makeover, with Terry Gilliam re-imagining Chris Marker's La Jétée (1962) as Twelve Monkeys (1995), while Gus Van Sant relocated Alan Clarke's Elephant (1989) from Belfast to Portland, Oregon for his 2003 remake of the same name. 

In retaining his original title, Jim Cumming follows in the footsteps of Tim Burton (Frankenweenie, 1984 & 2012) and Damien Chazelle (Whiplash, 2013 & 2014). But anyone planning on seeing Thunder Road on the big screen would be well advised to take a look at the 2016 short, as it makes the feature version all the more remarkable. 

At his mother Brenda's funeral, moustachioed small-town police officer Jim Arnaud (Jim Cummings) comes to the front of the chapel to say a few words. He laments the absence of his siblings, but is grateful that his daughter, Crystal (Kendal Farr), and estranged wife, Rosalind (Jocelyn DeBoer), are in attendance. Speaking without notes, Jim haltingly commends his mother for her many good deeds and wishes he had been an easier child to raise. Fighting back the tears, he announces his intention to sing his mother's favourite song, Bruce Springsteen's `Thunder Road'. However, the little pink boombox he has borrowed from Crystal fails to work and he launches into a dance rendition, while trying to explain what the lyrics are about. Eventually, with everyone feeling decidedly uncomfortable (apart from the one ghoul filming the spectacle on his phone), the minister steps in to thank Jim for his contribution and move on with the ceremony by reminding the gathering that there's no right or wrong way to express grief. 

Ignoring the order of his commanding officer (Bill Wise), Jim reports for duty with his partner, Nate Lewis (Nican Robinson), and assures him that he is ready to work. On pulling up outside a store to question a homeless man (Frank Mosley) who has been causing a disturbance, however, Jim flips out when he has a juice box thrown at him and he has to be restrained by a couple of colleagues before the Captain sends him home compose himself. 

Picking up a scanner en route to his mother's place, Jim makes copies of the photographs Brenda had cherished and tidies up the dance academy she had run prior to her early death at 54. He argues with sister Morgan (Chelsea Edmundson) about selling the premises so she can give her three children saxophone lessons and works out with his martial arts coach, But he can't wait to get back in uniform, even though a couple of other officers arrest a suspect he has injured himself chasing and he gets no thanks from 16 year-old Jocelyn (Jacqueline Doke) after he stops her making out with a couple of boys in the backseat of a car. 

Jim is bitter that Rosalind has left him and has moved in with Chris (William Kevin Olliff), who gets to see more of Crystal than he does. He tries hard to please her by redecorating her bedroom. But she prefers her old bed and would rather sit and draw than order pizza and watch a Fast and Furious movie. Desperate to make a connection, Jim suggests they go for ice cream, but winds up having to apologise for making Crystal miss her friend's birthday party. Used to taking things in her stride, Crystal merely shrugs, even when Jim proves unable to do the hand-clapping game she has learned at school. Yet, when he plays it to perfection (and at speed) the next morning, she rewards him with a half-smile, only for them to squabble again because he disapproves of her wearing make-up to school.

Arriving at the police station, Jim gets served with divorce papers and he is horrified that Rosalind plans to move away and file for sole custody. When he calls her, she informs him that Crystal hates spending time with him and hangs up before he can protest. Desk officer Clara (Cassandra L. Small) advises Jim against letting people walk all over him and Nate is equally supportive. Indeed, he confides that he has confiscated the phone from the funeral and tossed it in the river. Moreover, he invites Jim to supper with his wife, Celia (Ammie Masterson), and their two children, who try to make him feel welcome, even though the teenage daughter realises that Jim is something of an oddball. 

Even Nate's patience can be strained, however, as Jim dithers in responding to a call about a café owner brandishing a knife and fails to prevent the suspect from stabbing himself. Crystal's teacher, Dustin Zahn (Macon Blair), also comes to the conclusion that Jim is hard work when he invites him to discuss his daughter's disruptive behaviour in class and has to reprimand him when he loses his temper and threatens to hurl her desk across the room. Jim blames Crystal's cursing on Rosalind, but admits that her reading difficulties are probably down to him, as he is dyslexic and only got through school because Brenda used to record the books he had to read for homework. Hiding a pair of scissors to be on the safe side, Dustin concludes that they will all do their best to make sure Crystal succeeds.

At his custody hearing, Jim is surprised when lawyer Donna (Shelley Calene-Black) needs reminding what case she's attending. She warns him that Judge McCarthy can be difficult and suggests letting her do all the talking. But Jim lets his tongue run away with him after being asked to approach the bench and he not only winds up offending the judge, but he also has to endure him watching the phone footage from the funeral, which is deemed to be exceedingly prejudicial to his cause. Blaming Nate for his humiliation, Jim hurtles back to the precinct and starts a blazing row before the Captain bawls him out for having drawn his firearm. Replacing it in his holster, Jim tries to explain that he's having a hard time, but he gets fired and strips down to his torn underwear in ranting at his erstwhile colleagues about how he is the most decorated member of the force and how he will make sure everyone knows the dirt he has on them all. 

As with his funeral oration, Jim allows himself to be sidetracked and sobs furiously, as he tries to state his case and retain some dignity. But it's a losing battle and he realises that losing a mother, a wife and a daughter is an insufficient reason for being cut some slack. Nate knows what's going on, however, and comes to the house to see how his buddy is faring. He has trashed the place and Nate opts against commenting on the mess and coaxes Jim into hitting some baseballs while drinking and smoking cigars in the back garden. 

Jim appreciates the effort and decides to reach out to Morgan. She's surprised to see him and has things to do, but they chat about the fact Brenda had struggled to keep the dance academy open after damaging her knee and they agree she had worked hard to raise them. Bluffing about his own troubles, Jim hugs his sister and makes her promise to keep in better touch. A few days later, Jim visits his mother's grave. He apologises for selling the dance studio to pay for lawyers and then losing custody of Crystal. Commenting on the tackiness of other headstones, he asks Brenda to keep an eye on Morgan, as she could use some help. 

Some time later, Officer Doug (Jordan Ray Fox) finds Jim with an urgent message. He manages to lock himself out of his car and has to borrow a night stick to smash the window. They speed over to Rosalind's place, where Crystal has phoned in her overdose death. Nate takes care of the girl, while Jim goes inside and tells his lifeless ex-wife that he has never hated her more. Yet, he feels sad that she has lost her struggle with life and kisses her hand before slapping her across the face. Outside, having given Nate a bear hug, he asks Crystal if she would like to run away with him and start again somewhere new. She nods and the film ends with Jim smile-crying, as he watches his daughter gazing in rapture at a ballet performance and feels Brenda somehow watching over him. 

A slow-motion, midriff version of the funeral dance plays under the credits, as if to confirm how pivotal this incident is to everything that follows. The opening sequence is utterly astonishing (and knowingly different from the 2016 short). However, the picture rather suffers because nothing comes close to it until Jim has his car park breakdown and unleashes his heartfelt cry of rage about the way America is going and how decent people can do nothing to stop it. That said, the classroom chat at the tiny fourth grade desks and the morning after game of patty cake are beautifully staged.

Despite the action occasionally feeling like a sketch-based sitcom, this study of a Boy Scout who never grew up is wince-inducingly compelling. It's one of those films you need to watch again to make sure you saw what you saw. Such is the potency of Jim Cummings's Fawlty-Carreyesque performance, it's easy to become distracted from what is happening around it and how much of it doesn't hang together particularly well. But this only matters at the end, when the redemptive (if undeniably misogynist) twist seems more than a little forced. 

For the rest of the time, however, it's impossible to take your eyes off Cummings, as his intellectually and emotionally challenged everyman goes into meltdown, hauls himself back from the brink and staggers towards an epiphany. The supporting cast does well to stay with him, especially as none of the secondary roles (with the possible exception of Crystal) is that well written. Yet this tunnel vision chimes in amusingly with Jim's self-deceptive conviction that the world revolves around him and that it's everyone else who needs to get their lives in order.

Adapted from José Luis Sampedro's bestselling novel, The Etruscan Smile, Mihal Brezis and Oded Binnun's Rory's Way feels like it has been welded together from bits of other (and better films). From the Outer Hebridean opening that evokes memories of Alexander Mackendrick's Whisky Galore (1948) and Bill Forsyth's Local Hero (1983) to the San Franciscan core that veers between Jack Lemmon's Kotch (1971) and János Edelényi's The Carer (2016), this is a cake-and-eat-it kind of picture that prods viewers to laugh and cry on demand without giving them much to smile or mewl about. 

Greybeard Rory MacNeil (Brian Cox) lives in a croft in the Outer Hebrides. Despite being 74, he skinny dips in the sea at first light and, each evening, tuts at the tourists taking selfies in the pub, where he whittles at the bar and grumbles in Gaelic. When Alistair Campbell (Clive Russell) enters to boast that he will have the last laugh in the centuries-old feud between their clans, Rory counters that he will widdle on the flowers on his grave. But he collapses in agony on getting home and the local vet (who keeps giving him horse tranquilizers for the pain) urges him to fly to America, patch things up with his estranged son and get himself cured. 

After 15 years, Rory barely recognises Ian (JJ Feild) at the airport and is miffed at not being able to smoke in the car. He is also hurt when his son fails to show his appreciation for the model horse he has carved for him and can't understand why daughter-in-law Emily (Thora Birch) keeps calling him `dad'. However, Ian is annoyed that Rory has clearly come to San Francisco for a medical check-up and his mood scarcely improves when his father can't remember the sex of his grandchild. 

Following a sleepless night because the newborn Jamie kept bawling his eyes out, Rory is perplexed to learn that his chemist son is now a celebrated sous chef, while Emily has quit nursing to run her own business. He is also disappointed to see Jamie being left in the care of Frida (Sandra Santiago), a Hispanic maid who strictly adheres to her employers' modern parenting theories. Unable to bear the sight of his grandson sobbing in his playpen at the sound of the vacuum cleaner, Rory takes him for a walk in his stroller and gets ticked off by Ian for disappearing without a word. 

Emily is more subtle in her attempt to control the old man and gives him a mobile phone so they can keep track of his movements. She also leaves him a tuxedo so he can attend the swanky function that she is hosting and Ian is catering at the city museum. As he insists on wearing a kilt in the clan tartan, Rory is recognised by Emily's proud father, Frank Barron (Treat Williams), who is amused by the Scotsman's blunt worldview. But Rory is anything but impressed when Frank announces that he has bought Ian a restaurant so he can experiment with his molecular creations and growls in Gaelic about the best way to tame a stallion. Moreover, he gets scolded by curator Claudia (Rosanna Arquette) for touching a terracotta Etruscan tomb ornament and is arrested for skinny dipping in the bay. 

The next day, Rory gets some good news, when he learns that Campbell has been diagnosed with liver failure. He cooks his famous stew to mark his victory. But Ian is furious when he realises that Rory is celebrating his foe's imminent demise rather than his own unexpected success and they argue until the truth emerges that Ian left Lewis because he could no longer abide living with a father who had exploited the death of his pet dog to fuel the feud. Undaunted, Rory promises Jamie that he will take him home to see the star-filled sky above his croft and not even a diagnosis of stage four prostate cancer from Dr Weiss (Tim Matheson) appears to deflect him from his purpose. 

Although Ian and Emily are shocked by the news, Rory takes Jamie to the museum, where he bumps into Claudia again after having his pocket picked. As he mumbles something in Gaelic after having a dizzy spell, Rory is invited to participate in a Berkeley research project into endangered languages and he only agrees to help if Claudia accompanies him. The Professor (Peter Coyote) is delighted with him and Claudia is forced to admit he has a rough-hewn charm. However, she is hurt that he has withheld the truth about his health and cuts short a date to a funfair. 

With Emily away on business, Rory moves his bed into Jamie's room and tells Ian to ignore Jeff (Josh Stamberg), the number-cruncher Frank has imposed upon him to plan his menus. He reminds him that life is short and urges him to do what he loves before it's too late. Discovering he's only got three months left, Rory takes Claudia some flowers by way of apology and she shows him her plot in a city garden. They kiss while planting blooms and he continues to delight the professor with his Gaelic wit and wisdom. One of his tales is about Campbell. But the news that he has died shakes Rory and he hides away in his room with a bottle of scotch. Eventually, he wanders into Jamie's room and apologises for the fact he won't be there for him for much longer and the boy wipes away his grandfather's tear when it drops on to his cheek.

Meanwhile, Ian has told Frank that he doesn't want his backing for the restaurant and Emily admits that she's unhappy because she keeps missing key moments like Jamie's first steps. They attend a pirate-themed birthday party that Frank has thrown in Jamie's honour at the golf club, but the boy seems happiest with the wooden boat that Rory has carved for him. Seeing his father and son wading into the sea, Ian rushes down to remonstrate and pleads with Rory to stop fighting battles nobody else cares about and the old man is crestfallen. 

He gets drunk and staggers to Claudia's house, where she takes pity on him and puts him in her bed. When she finds him collapsed in a doorway, she calls an ambulance and Rory asks Ian to take him home. As he has been listening to a disc of his father's Gaelic anecdotes, he is also feeling homesick and the whole family flies back to Lewis after Rory tells Claudia she's the personification of his home. While walking in the hills, Rory gives Ian the penknife he had owned as a boy and regrets trying to make a man of him when he had his own path to tread. The next morning, Jamie climbs out of his cot and clambers across the bed to utter the word `seanathair', the Gaelic for grandfather, as the camera passes over Rory's head to gaze at the view out of his window. 

A credit crawl coda shows Ian and Emily returning to Rory's croft with a five year-old Jamie and his infant sibling. Nothing is said about how they are making a living or where, but the swelling of Haim Frank Ilfman's score reminds us that we are supposed to be smiling through the tears, as Rory's spirit lives on. Moreover, it ensures that we leave the cinema with such a strong whiff of nostalgia in our nostrils that we are powerless to resist the cornball message that the old ways are still best. In this regard, the debuting duo of Brezis and Binnun echo Amanda Sthers's conclusion in Holy Lands (2018), another story about a self-centred windbag whose conviction in his own rectitude makes him insufferable.

The canny casting of James Caan went some way to taking the curse off Sthers's paean to patriarchy and Brian Cox comes close to pulling off the same trick here. However, he relies so heavily on Ballantrushal bluster that there's little room left for the charisma that is supposed to have seduced Rosanna Arquette's pushover curator and melted the decades of bitter resentment that JJ Feilds was supposed to have been hauling around on his shoulder. Cox is a fine actor, but Rory is a duff character and the co-directors are too inexperienced to convince us that the curmudgeon who fervently desires the death of a neighbour is really a loveable rogue. 

While cinematographer Javier Aguirresarobe provides them with relishable views of Loch Eriboll (standing in for Lewis) and Frisco by night, Brezis and Binnun are given little assistance by their writers. There's little of Sampedro's 1985 story about a Southern Italian peasant trekking to Milan left in a screenplay that apparently required the combined talents of Michael McGowan, Michal Lali Kagan, Shuki Ben-Naim and Amital Stern to concoct. But, while the slipshoddiness of their characterisation is par for the course in so much millennial American cinema, their dialogue clangs more hollowly than the hull of the Ullapool to Stornaway ferry.

The people behind our next film have insisted that we say `I Love My Mum will be released in UK cinemas Friday 31st May'. There! We've said it. Perhaps they are so keen to have the fact placed on the record because, by rights, there is no way that Spanish director Alberto Sciamma's wretched follow-up to such forgettable offerings as Killer Tongue (1996), Jericho Mansions (2003) and Bite (2015) should ever have been smuggled on to the general release schedule.

Still peeved after nearly falling off the roof to fix the aerial so mother Olga (Kierston Wareing) can watch West Ham on the telly, twentysomething Ron Martin (Tommy French) loses his rag when he discovers she's munching on his last bit of camembert. Packing her bag, he bundles Olga into the car to go shopping at the nearby petrol station. However, an argument in transit sees them crash into the back of a container, which is promptly loaded on to a ship at Tilbury Docks.

Uncertain whether they have awoken in the afterlife, Olga and Ron start bickering again when she reveals that she lied about the fact that his father had died of chicken pox shortly after he was born. However, the discovery of a packet of sweets and a convenient supply of beer keeps them content and/or comatose until they reverse out of the container with a back-flipping crash and find themselves in a Moroccan port, with Olga wearing nothing but her pyjamas and a dressing-gown. 

They spot a Union Jack fluttering over the consulate. But the snooty Henry Brentwood (Tim Downie) informs them that Ron is not a British citizen because his birth was never registered. Sheepishly, Olga confesses that Ron's father was French and he gets so irate when Brentwood reveals that it will take two years for him to secure citizenship that he is turfed into the street to fend for himself. Somehow getting hold of a map book, Olga traces their route home and ignores Ron's fulminations when she hails a cab to take them to Tangier. 

Flirting with the fecund driver (Younes Bouab) in the hope that she can use her charm to pay their fare, Olga is appalled when Ron steals the taxi while the cabby is relieving himself at the side of the road. Moreover, when Olga goes to buy food in the first big town they reach, Ron gets to spend the day ferrying strangers around and is feeling pleased with himself until the cabby catches up with him and socks him in the jaw. But Ron had the sense to pocket his profits and they  come in handy when to purchase a passage on a migrant boat across the Mediterranean (oh, the hilarity).

Having sung `I'm Forever Blowing Bubbles' as a lullaby to a crying infant, Olga and Ron endure a downpour before dozing off at the back of the raft. On waking, Olga tries to take charge of the rowing and tips so many of her fellow passengers overboard that they mutiny and toss Ron and Olga into the drink and leave them floating in their orange lifejackets (seriously, this is the plot and we're supposed to be amused and a little bit scandalised by the audacity of the satire). Cursing his mother for her inability to apologise, Ron blames her for their predicament. But, just as Olga gets the giggles on realising what a plonker he is, Ron spots a handy pedalo within easy swimming distance and they are able to make it to a Spanish beach. 

Rescued by a man with a metal detector after being buried in the sand by some naughty children, Olga and Ron enter a karaoke competition with a €1000 prize so that they can travel to Calais and meet the latter's father. Their song goes down well, but the locals cheer Paloma (Aida Folch) to the rafters and Olga is furious when MC (Kris Johnson) announces that she has won after Ron bungles a bid to rig the vote. Luckily, Paloma has eyes for Ron and invites them back to her caravan. Unfortunately, while Ron and Paloma are chatting on the beach about their respective jobs in telemarketing and phone sex, Olga falls asleep while smoking a joint and causes a fire that results in her being treated by a casualty doctor (Gabriel Andreu) who gets so irate at Ron's attitude that he punches him in the nose. 

Being in hospital brings back the feelings of dread that Ron had when Olga was diagnosed with cancer and the sense that life is too short to waste prompts him to propose to Paloma and they are married by a priest (Luis Soto) in the chapel. She also procures them forged passports and hires them a car to drive to France. At the border, however, Olga gets impatient at being stuck in a queue and keeps beeping the horn. When Ron gets agitated, he activates the airbag, which turns out to be full of cocaine. They beat a hasty retreat and, while laying low in a trailer being towed through inhospitable terrain, Olga calls Ron a muppet when he wonders why Paloma took him for a ride and realises that he has left the passports in the hire car. 

Having trudged through the Pyrenees, Olga makes a quick score by selling some coke to some kids in the first French village they find. They buy some decent clothes and dine in a posh restaurant, only for Olga to embarrass Ron by having noisy washroom sex with the manager (Dominique Pinon). Moreover, they see a TV news item identifying Paloma as being part of a major drug smuggling gang and Ron gets cross when the manager describes their dupes as morons. 

Driving north, Olga and Ron have yet another argument and she implores him to stop being so judgemental and get on with his life. However, while introducing Ron to his father, Alfred (Frank Leboeuf), Olga gets into a slapping match with her ex's new wife, Shanelle (Sara Martins), and the mealtime mood is tense to say the least. But they become BFFs after Olga revives Shannelle's beloved dog (Siri) after it had fallen in the swimming pool after drinking wine. Over supper, they fall out again when Olga objects to Alfred inviting Ron to stay so they can bond. Not that that stops her having sex with Alfred in full view of his wife, who just shrugs because that's what the French are like. 

Unable to abandon his mother, Ron drives her home. As they reach their street, however, she confesses that she had never had cancer and had faked her illness to stop him from running away. Appalled, he crosses the road in a daze and imagines turning to see Paloma running towards him. But the truth is more mundane, as Olga has been hit by a bus after not looking both ways before tottering into the road. 

As scenes from the various locations play under the credits and Olga beats up a street boxer who had punched Ron, Sciamma closes with a shot of some old ladies waving from a bench in a quiet square. It's tempting to see this as Europe saying `goodbye and good riddance' to Brexit Britain. But it's hard to believe that a coarse picaresque so wedded to thudding humour would stoop to something so comparatively subtle. 

In fairness to Kierston Wareing and Tommy French, they give it everything they've got to make Olga and Ron as boorishly resistible as possible. The ever-game Wareing subjects herself to some raucously cartoonish shtick, while the debuting French summons up a year's worth of Eastenders angst in despairing at her chavvy Essex antics. Fabio Paolucci's photography is also better than the shambolic script deserves, as is Mark Davis's comedically astute editing. But, even though Sciamma is clearly striving to make bigots reflect upon the realities of the migrant crisis, few will be able to forgive the lazy national stereotypes and the decision to exploit a boatload of refugees for a cheap gag. 

With the Women's World Cup drawing closer to the big kick-off on 7 June, Dochouse showcases Naziha Arebi's Freedom Fields, an account of how three football fanatics strove to make their mark with the Libyan women's team. As much a treatise on women's rights as a feel-good sports story, the film opens potently with a quote from American activist Audre Lorde's tome, Sister Outsider (1984): `Sometimes we are blessed with being able to choose the time, and the arena, and the manner of our revolution, but more usually we must do battle where we are standing.'

A year has passed since the 2011 revolution that overthrew Muammar Gaddafi and Naama, Halima and Fadwa are desperate to be selected for the Libyan women's football squad to travel to Germany to play in a tournament against teams from Egypt, Jordan, Palestine, Lebanon and Tunisia. However, in a firebrand speech, TV preacher Salim Jabar denounces the plan because the competition is due to take place during Ramadan and because women in football kits goes against Sharia Law. Fuming into the microphone, he declares that the last thing Libya needs is a team full of `tall, good-looking girls' disporting themselves and bringing shame on their families. 

Among the hopefuls are Nama, who has been driven from Tawergha and lives in a refugee camp and has the broad support of her family; ice cream-loving goalkeeper Halima; and Fadwa, who is worried that her family want to marry her off because nobody's husband will allow his wife to play football. One of the soldiers watching them train receives a threat from the Ansar al-Sharia group, which claims that football will lead to a clamour for such Western sports involving nudity as athletics and swimming. Suppressing a smile, he burns the document. But, a few weeks later, the team is informed that the Libyan FA has withdrawn from the tournament because they cannot guarantee player safety on the trip. When challenged by some of the squad, however, the FA spokesman admits that senior figures have been receiving death threats from credible sources and that they are not prepared to put their families in danger by sponsoring women's sport. 

A year passes and Tripoli is still prone to power cuts, shortages and displays of macho fundamentalist posturing. Moreover, the three women have made decisions that have left them far away from fulfilling their dreams. Fadwa has buckled to family pressure and has agreed to get married, while Halima has started studying to become an obstetrician. However, she still has hopes of doing something with football and applies to go on a coaching course in Cameroon. She travels by car to Tunisia to get a flight and becomes increasingly nervous as she approaches the frontier. In audio only, we hear an exchange with the border guard, who thinks it's a disgrace that a woman should be thinking about football in a time of national crisis and orders her to go home. 

Fadwa lands an engineering job with an oil company and enjoys having everyone depend upon her expertise. Halima also finds her studies rewarding and cheerfully sings along to Adele on her car CD player, while eating an ice cream cone and shrugging off the fact she doesn't have a boyfriend. Nama shows her mother pictures of their hometown and they wish they could return. But Libya is descending into anarchy and she knows it would be madness to leave the squalor, but comparative security of the camp, even though the electricity keeps going off and gunfire in the night is a common occurrence. 

As the situation deteriorates, however, the Libyan men's team wins the 2014 African Nations Championship after beating Zimbabwe and Ghana on penalties in the semi-final and final in South Africa (after Libya had been stripped of hosting the tournament because of growing civil unrest). Driving through the darkened streets during the match, Halima can't help but get excited. But victory only reminds her of the lies that the new regime have told about female emancipation and she curses that she was denied her opportunity to represent her country. 

Two years pass before Arebi is able to return and she arrives to find Halima and Fadwa reunited with some members of the original team to plan a trip to Lebanon to play an unofficial game. The former is teased for having put on weight, while the latter reveals that she didn't get married after all and is free to go where she wishes. Indeed, she has just returned from America and notes that women go to the mall in their pyjamas and nobody bothers them. Nama is also told about the scheme and the skipper cuts a deal with people at a local sports ground so they can train at night. When the floodlights fail, friends rally round and shine their car headlamps on to the pitch so they can practice. 

Suddenly, the team is boarding a plane and the players receive a warm welcome when they touch down in Beirut. Halima gazes out of her room window across the city with a look of incredulity that life goes on without a furore. But they are here to play football rather than make political comparisons and Tripoli Women find themselves up against the Egyptian side, Wadi Degla. However, they thought it was going to be seven rather than 11 a-side and the players are on edge, as their female coach reminds them all to use deodorant before they go on to the pitch and their male coach, Yusef. regrets that they haven't had time to practice throw-ins and offside. 

Fadwa encourages her teammates to pace themselves and try to enjoy the experience, as they have been waiting for this day for many years. But it quickly becomes clear that the team is yellow is far better than the one in red and Coach Yusef has to stop them bickering as he tries to talk them through their tactical shortcomings. Fortunately, they have a chance to put things right against the Palestinian Diyar team. They start well in orange and score a nice goal, which Halima celebrates by falling to her knees and shrieking. But she is disconsolate at the final whistle, as their opponents in blue had managed to equalise and she isn't mollified when a teammate tells her that Libyans are never lucky from the first day. 

The squad is also frustrated because the management won't let them fraternise with the opposition or go sightseeing. Fadwa does an interview with an English-speaking journalist, in which she complains about the fear that underpins the need to control women and she doesn't care if anyone finds out that she has been speaking out against the system. When they dodge the female coach and go off on their own, the entire team sings and claps with happiness aboard their bus. At the stadium, however, Fadwa is told she will be sent home and she accuses the management of exploiting them to get FA money to line their own pockets. 

As kick-off approaches against Petra Women's Club of Jordan, an official comes looking for Fadwa. But the team pull an `I'm Spartacus' stunt to protect her and they go out to play with a greater sense of togetherness. Back in red, they seem faster and more committed than those in white and score a well-worked goal. However, Arebi isn't interested in results and we can only surmise that the Tripoli team won because they whoop it up while hanging out of car windows, as they zip along a highway at dusk. Fadwa says in voiceover that she is tired of being held back in Libya, which has come a prison. Yet, she manages a smile, as she sings along with Jill Andrews's version of `Total Eclipse of the Heart' on the car stereo.

A year later, Fadwa returns from another trip to Lebanon and is delighted by the progress her sports initiative has been making. The elderly man she speaks to on an overgrown football pitch wipes the tears from his eyes, as he wants girls to benefit from sport and live full and free lives. As we see a group posing for a photograph at the end of a training workshop, closing captions inform us that Halima has qualified as a doctor and is about to get married, while Nama awaits permission to return to Tawergha, along with 30,000 others from her community. But she continues to run and refuses to give up hope that her exile will end. 

There's much to celebrate in this scrappy underdog story, as Nama, Halima and Fadwa keep finding ways to defy the odds imposed upon them by the Islamic patriarchy to live on their own terms. But, while Naziha Arebi's heart couldn't be more firmly in the right place, her film is frustratingly scattershot and one is left to wonder whether this is down to the difficult circumstances in which it was shot or whether something has gone askew during the edit. Viewers are rather left to fend for themselves, as no attempt is made to put the documentary in any socio-historical context, while the failure to identify many key players in the unfolding drama makes it difficult to establish the bond between the teammates and the credentials of the coaching and management staff, who come across as government lackeys rather than sports administrators. 

Those more familiar with Libyan society and politics may be able to read between the lines. But the message is clear in the concluding images of Fadwa's volunteers cutting grass by hand in a literal bid to create a level playing field. One can only wish them every success and commend Arebi for bringing their situation to wider attention.