Tag: UK

Born of War

  By

★★
“Warn of bore”

While technically solid, and occasionally looking quite good, this may be the laziest scripting I have seen in a movie for a long time. I feel I may have lost actual IQ points through the process of watching it, such is the degree of stupidity which this provides. The heroine is Mina (Black-D’Elia), a college student whose life is upended when she and her little sister narrowly escape a home invasion by Arab terrorists, in which both her parents are killed. She’s rescued by intelligence agent Olivia (Leonard), who tells her she’s the only heir of an Afghani warlord, Khalid (Arditti). Her mother betrayed him, and had to change her identity: he finally caught up with the family, and wants his daughter back.

As protection, Olivia assigns her to private contractor Simon (Frain), who helps teach her certain skills. When further attempts to kidnap her follow, Mina has had enough of running, and agrees to be handed over to Khalid, after having a tracking device implanted. This will allow the military to locate the terrorist leader, and take him out, giving Mina her revenge. Except, things are not at all what they initially appear. There’s a whole hidden agenda, involving an oil company with designs on the region, duelling warlords and members of the intelligence community who appear to be operating without formal sanction from the government. To survive, Mina will need to stab someone with a CD, and carry out impromptu surgery. With a rock.

Yeah, it’s like that. I lost track of the number of times I rolled my eyes, snorted derisively or shook my head in annoyance. Sometimes, more than one of these in combination. I think it began with the home invasion, where a single, completely untrained (at that point) college student was able repeatedly to get the drop on a trio of hard-core fanatics. You just cannot get the quality terrorist minions these days. The same incompetence litters the path of the movie throughout. For instance, if they had once searched their captive, they’d have found the CD she broke and later used as an improvised weapon. Even after Mina finds the truth out and becomes disposable, multiple opportunities to do just that – dispose of her – are wasted.

The same writer-director pairing, of Jewson and husband Rupert Whitaker, was also responsible for Close, which at least had Noomi Rapace in it. This does not, and Black-D’Elia isn’t an adequate replacement. Her broad American accent is another point of pain, with the script’s explanation for it, more of a token gesture, really. The film does look sharp, and if you have this on in the background – say, if you are doing the ironing – it could conceivably pass muster. However, any attention to detail might well peel off the thin gold-plating of competence. A film which relies on two people bumping into each other entirely by coincidence, in a large city, is definitely one with major problems.

Dir: Vicky Jewson
Star: Sofia Black-D’Elia, James Frain, Lydia Leonard, Philip Arditti

The Gentle Touch

  By

★★★★
“Touched by an angel.”

British television was rather late to the policewoman party. The first such American show, Decoy, had aired in 1957, and been followed in the seventies by Get Christie Love! and Police Woman. But the UK had to wait until the eighties for their first home-grown series. The Gentle Touch just beat Juliet Bravo to the title, beginning its five season run four months earlier, in April 1980. It centered on Maggie Forbes (Gascoine), a Detective Inspector who worked out of the Seven Dials station in central London. The show began with the murder of her husband, also a police officer, leaving her to raise teenage son Steve (Rathbone), despite a strong devotion to her career in law enforcement.

To be honest, it’s more character- than action-driven overall, yet that’s its strength, since it does a great job of creating people who feel “real”. Nobody here is perfect: everyone has flaws, and struggles to cope with life’s ups and downs. Maggie is the focus, having to operate in an era when casual disregard for a woman’s talents was the norm. Not least by her Scottish colleague, Bob Croft (Gwaspari), though he eventually came to appreciate her many talents, such as Forbes’s fierce devotion to justice. Fortunately, her boss, Detective Chief Inspector Bill Russell (Marlowe) always had her back, even if his approach means cutting her no slack either. But every episode seemed to have one or more great performance, taking advantage of the vast pool of top-tier British character actors.

If you’re familiar with British films and television of the time (and I basically grew up with them!), you will see a lot of recognizable faces. Josh Ackland, Enn Reitel, Joanne Whalley, Art Malik, David Kelly, Ralph Bates and even Floella Benjamin – now Baroness Benjamin, then playing a high-class call-girl! The show also covered a lot of social topics not often seen on eighties television, from racism to porn, yet generally managed to do so without feeling like it was delivering a lecture. There’s no denying its success at the time. This peaked with the ninth episode of season three, in January 1982, which was the fifth most-watched TV program of the year in the United Kingdom, seen by almost a third of the entire population.

The odd episode does perhaps teeter on the edge of implausibility, such as a largely ineffective cliffhanger at the end of season four, where a woman walks into Seven Dials station, armed with a hand-grenade, and threatening to blow herself up. Such excesses seemed positively… well, American. I felt the show was better when staying safely British: you could have a good drinking game, based off people offering each other a nice cup of tea. Speaking of which, Gascoine must have had a sponsorship deal with artificial sweetener company Hermesetas: Chris noticed the way she inevitably dropped a couple of their little tabs into her cuppa. Yet I was surprised how well it generally stood the test of time. Its age only occasionally shows, and most of its 56 episodes proved highly watchable, thanks to the solid characters and performances.

Creator: Terence Feely
Star: Jill Gascoine, William Marlowe, Brian Gwaspari, Nigel Rathbone

Polite Society

  By

★★★½
“Almost everything, everywhere…”

Sitting somewhere between Everything Everywhere All at Once  and Scott Pilgrim vs. The World, you will find this British comedy. It shares the same immigrant culture clash origin of the former, and the teenage angst of the latter – though, fortunately, without Pilgrim‘s smug self-awareness. It’s the story of Ria Khan (Kansara), a teenage daughter in an Pakistani family in Britain who wants nothing to do with her family’s expectations, and instead, dreams of becoming a stuntwoman. Her older sister, Lena (Arya), recently dropped out of art school and, to Ria’s horror, is now heading towards marriage to hunky scientist Salim (Khanna). He basically represents everything about traditional culture Ria detests.

She decides her sister must be saved from this fate, with the help of her plucky school-chums, and in increasing defiance, both of her family and the evidence that Salim is a nice guy, who genuinely loves Lena. That is, until Ria stumbles across the secret laboratory under his house, and it turns out she might have been right all along. Except, it might be his mother, Raheela (Bucha), who is the evil mastermind, with a plan to… No, I can’t say. Not so much for reasons of spoilerness, more because it’s such a dumb idea for a villainous plot, James Bond wouldn’t give it house-room. Even in the Roger Moore era. Regardless, Ria’s only hope is now to kidnap her own sister from her own wedding, under the nose of both Rahella and the bride’s parents.

This manages to tread the fine line between self-awareness and blatantly being “meta”. Ria is excellent, delivering fiercely as the committed teenager, who is 125% sure she is utterly correct, regardless of what any so-called “facts” might indicate. However, the real star is likely Khanna, who in just a few scenes manages to steal the entire movie, as the epitome of an evil overlord. I did sense some of the cultural beats might be lost on those outside Indian society. Most of the time, there’s enough context you can work out the details (and it was refreshing that the script avoided the obvious “arranged marriage” trope). But what is an “Eid” and why would you have an “Eid soiree“?

The action is surprisingly robust, setting up each fight with an introductory title. It generally delivers with emphatic oomph that provoked comment from me more than once: the fight between the two sisters was particularly savage. It was also appreciated that Ria’s idol is Eunice Huthart, who genuinely is one of the top British stuntwomen, having doubled for Angelina Jolie in Salt. I would have welcomed a bit more action, especially towards the end. It seems to be setting up a big fight between Ria and Raheela: this doesn’t arrive, instead being simply Ria landing the signature move she has been failing to complete all movie. But as an entertaining mix of dry British humour and flying fantasy, this works better than I expected.

Dir: Nida Manzoor
Star: Priya Kansara, Ritu Arya, Nimra Bucha, Akshay Khanna

Mercy Falls

  By

★★★
“Come to beautiful Scotland! And die!”

Even though I haven’t lived there since the eighties, I remain a sucker for a Scottish film. This delivers, with no shortage of rugged mountain landscapes, beautiful lochs, a ceilidh band and trees. So. Many. Trees. The foliage is understandable, because most of it takes places in the woods, where Rhona (Lyle) and her friends are looking for a cabin, deep in the wilds, which belonged to her late father. To help find it, they enlist the help of local Carla (McKeown), whom they meet down the pub when they have a pre-trip planning get-together. She initially seems fun to be with. But once they’re away from civilization, a shocking incident proves she… has issues, shall we say. And might not be the only one in the party.

The “trip into the woods goes wrong” subgenre of horror has been a staple of the industry for decades – not least because, it’s cheap to do. Why bother with expensive sets, when you can just run around a forest for the bulk of your running time? [Though from previous conversations with Scottish film-makers, the dreaded blood-sucking local insects know as midges, might make that choice of location a decision to regret!] There’s not a lot new in this incarnation of it. Having the threat come from inside the party is a moderate twist, as is having both leads being women. But horror, generally, isn’t something which requires innovation. It’s considerably more about the execution. Or, perhaps, the executionS.

There, this film is a bit of a mixed bag. If the supporting characters aren’t much more than stock characters: the slut, the jackass, the nerd (that would be the guy reading Homer in the woods!), they serve their purpose, which is mostly to die at the hands of Carla. The effects are limited, but I’d say, respectable enough. One extended impalement is likely the highlight, helped by the victim’s enthusiastic selling of their injury. The script is perhaps the weakest element, with a few moments which had us rolling our eyes, in particular the “we might be going to die, so let’s go ahead and have sex” scene. At 103 minutes, trimming might be warranted, as this stretches the material a bit thin. On the other hand: did I mention the lovely scenery?

It all builds as you’d expect, to a somewhat decent face-off between the heroine and villainess. It is somewhat problematic, in that the latter’s background should give her such an edge, as to be able to wipe the floor with Rhona inside ten seconds. Something like handicapping Carla with an injury could have helped make the playing field feel less one-sided. However, we were still reasonably invested in things by this point, and McKeown definitely makes for a convincing nemesis, capable from flicking an internal switch and going from friendly into “you are all going to die” mode in a moment. Nobody could accuse this of ambition, yet it does what it does well enough to entertain us.

Dir: Ryan Hendrick
Star: Lauren Lyle, Nicolette McKeown, James Watterson, Layla Kirk
Mercy Falls is available now on Tubi.

The Huntress of Auschwitz

  By

★★
“About three decades too late.”

I came into this somewhat braced, given its 3.0 IMDb rating, and reviews which tended to be scathing e.g. proclaiming “This May Be The WORST Movie I’ve Ever Seen!” While it’s clearly not great, this is not eye-wateringly terrible. The good news is, it’s probably one performance away from approaching decent. The bad news is, it’s the lead role which is the biggest problem. This belongs to the unnamed Huntress (Watts-Joyce), a supposed American who travels to England, to go after a Nazi war criminal,  Rudolf Tannhäuser (Richards), and deliver the justice he has escaped since World War II. Tannhauser is now living quietly under an assumed identity n a farm in the English countryside.

There’s your first problem. This is clearly contemporary i.e. up-to-date iPhones, meaning Tannhauser would now need to be well into his nineties, even if he had been a 16-year-old when the war ended. He’s painted as considerably more senior, and there’s no conceivable way that Richards is pushing a century. Another issue: there really is precious little hunting, and nothing like the cover. She simply shows up on his doorstep, faking a turned ankle, and drugs him. Then we get a great deal of chit-chat as she tries to convince him to come clean about his past, and he repeatedly says she has the wrong guy. If Watts-Joyce did not have the emotional range of a fence-post, these conversations might have generated some tension.

They stand in sharp contrast to the delivery by veteran actress Lenska, playing concentration-camp survivor Amelia Kaminska. [Lenska was born in 1947, so is at least plausible as a child of Auschwitz] Her simple retelling of the horrors which she witnessed and went through are, far and away, the best part of the movie, and proof of how it’s not necessary to show things, when the delivery of the description is good enough. The film would have been far better a) set in the nineties, and b) with Amelia being the person to go after Tannhauser. The fact he killed one of the Huntress’s great-grandparents feels too distant and impersonal – again, compounded by the lead actress’s inability to sell the necessary emotions.

The pacing has some problems too: particularly in the beginning, there are too many scenes which end up being totally irrelevant. Her meeting with some kind of handler, or the travel montage, culminating in the Huntress standing around for what feels like forever, chatting to a pal on the phone. Once we reach the meat of the matter, with Tannhauser tied up, things improve a bit. The problem is, we’re already over half an hour in, and the film has really offered very little reason to engage with it. Thereafter, you’re waiting for the revenge that you know is inevitably going to come (though I wonder: how easy is it to gas someone to death in the middle of an open field?). It probably needs to be either exploitative or thoughtful: it’s neither, and consequently is unlikely to satisfy anyone.

Dir: Richard John Taylor
Star: Lowri Watts-Joyce, Jeffrey Charles Richards, Rula Lenska, Paul Dewdney

They Flew Alone

  By

★★½
“Puts the plain in aeroplane.”

This bio-pic of aviator Amy Johnson appeared in British cinemas a scant eighteen months after she disappeared over the River Thames. That put its release squarely in the middle of World War II, and explains its nature which, in the later stages, could certainly be called propaganda. There’s not many other ways to explain pointed lines like “Our great sailors won the freedom of the seas. And it’s up to us to win the freedom of the skies. This is first said during a speech given by Johnson in Australia, then repeated at the end, over a rousing montage of military marching and flying. I almost expected it to end with, “Do you want to know more?”

From the start, the film does a decent job of depicting Johnson (Neagle) as a likable heroine, who refuses to bow to convention – she’s first seen rebelling against the straw hat that’s part of her school uniform. We then follow her through university, though the degree apparently only qualifies her for jobs in a haberdashery or as a secretary (must have been a gender studies…). Unhappy with these dead-end occupations, she takes up flying, earning her pilot’s license and buying her own plane. It’s about here that the film really hits trouble, because director Wilson has no idea of how to convey the thrill of free flight. Endless series of newspaper headlines, ticker tapes and cheering crowds is about all we get, along with obvious rear-projection shots of Amy looking slightly concerned in the cockpit.

It’s almost a relief when the romance kicks in, represented by fellow pilot Jim Mollison (Newtron), who woos Amy while looking to set flight records of his own. Problem is, he’s a bit of a dick: quite why Amy falls for him is never clear. It’s clearly a mistake, with his drinking, womanising (or as close as they could depict in the forties!) and resentment at her greater fame and desire for independence eventually dooming the marriage – in another of those newspaper headlines. However, there is one decent sequence, when the husband and wife fly as a pair from Britain to America, largely through dense fog. This is edited nicely and, in contrast to all other flights, does generate some tension.

The bland approach includes Johnson’s final mission, depicted here as her running out of fuel while seeking somewhere to land in fog, bailing out, and drowning in the river. Cue the montage mentioned above, though the film does redeem itself with a final caption, worth repeating in full. “To all the Amy Johnsons of today, who have fought and won the battle of the straw hat – who have driven through centuries of convention – who have abandoned the slogan ‘safety first’ in their fight for freedom from fear – from want – from persecution – we dedicate this film.” It’s an honourable thought, considerably deeper and more well-executed than something which generally feels like it was rushed out, without much effort put into it.

Dir: Herbert Wilcox
Star: Anna Neagle, Robert Newton, Edward Chapman, Joan Kemp-Welch
a.k.a. Wings and the Woman

Amy

  By

★★★
“What rules?”

It’s interesting to compare the approach taken in this biopic of aviation heroine Amy Johnson, made in 1984, with the one over 40 years earlier (and shortly after her death) in They Flew Alone, and note the similarities and differences. Both are relatively restrained in budget. The earlier one because it was a low-cost production, made during a war; the later one because it was made for television – and the BBC at that, never a broadcaster known for its profligate spending! As a result, both are limited in terms of the spectacle they can offer, and end up opting to concentrate on Amy as a character. It’s the cheaper approach.

This benefits from a little more distance, and doesn’t need to paint an almost beatific picture of its subject for patriotic propaganda purposes. It begins with Amy (Walter) already fully grown up and seeking to raise funds for her record-setting flight to Australia, despite only a hundred hours of solo experience. Actually, 102, as she points out to a potential sponsor, also delivering the line above. when it’s pointed out she’s not even supposed to be in the hangar. The film does a somewhat better job of capturing Amy in flight, with wing-mounted camerawork that’s an improvement over the obvious rear-projection used in Alone. Yet there’s still too much reliance on newspaper headlines, to avoid having to spend money, though there is some deft use, of what’s either genuine newsreel footage or artfully re-created, sepia facsimiles.

There is a similar focus on her failed marriage to fellow aviator, Jim Mollinson (Francis, who really does not sound Scottish at all), and he doesn’t come off much better than the character did in Alone. Jim is portrayed again as a drunken womanizer, though this version plays down the idea of him becoming fed-up at being overshadowed by Johnson’s exploits. It feels like there’s a slight hint of a romantic relationship between Johnson and earlier co-pilot Jack Humphreys (Pugh). There’s also a statement that she had an operation to prevent her from having children, which I had not heard before. But it does depict Amy as quickly becoming fed up with the endless appearances required by her Daily Mail contract post-Australia flight, which seems accurate: she was happier out of the public eye.

The biggest difference between the two films is probably the way they depict her death. This… simply doesn’t. It ends instead, in a 1940 meeting with her ex-husband, while they were both ferrying planes around Britain for the Air Transport Auxiliary. Barbs are traded, and Jim seems annoyed when a fan comes up seeking Amy’s autograph and ignoring him completely. She leaves for her flight, despite being told regulations won’t let her take off due to the conditions. “What rules?” she says, before a caption details her death in 1941. It’s understated, and that’s in line with the approach taken here – perhaps too much so. While I think it is slightly better than Alone, this feels mostly due to better technical aspects. I still can’t feel either film gave me a true understanding of what she was like, or what made her tick.

Dir: Nat Crosby
Star: Harriet Walter, Clive Francis, George A. Cooper, Robert Pugh

Dinosaur Hotel

  By

★½
“Should have gone extinct”

Roughly ten minutes into this, it was clear I’d made a terrible mistake. I’ve seen my share of wretched creature features in my time, and this is down near the bottom of the barrel. It does have an interesting, if totally ludicrous idea. Five women are invited to a remote hotel, to take part in a game-show, competing for a prize of £100,000. Among them is struggling single mother Sienna (Wunna) who, unable to find a baby-sitter, takes her two kids with her. As the cover ever so subtly suggests, the game has carnivorous dinosaurs roaming the hotel and grounds, and “winning” simply means not getting eaten. Naturally, Sienna’s two kids also disobey Mum’s instructions not to leave the room.

There are only two things stopping this from being any good. Unfortunately, those are the budget and a complete lack of film-making ability. Wunna isn’t bad, as the competitor on whom the movie focuses. There were points at which I found myself teetering on the edge of actually giving a damn about her, and the other women are competent enough to pass muster. However, it was a horrendous mistake to have Sienna’s two kids played, it appears, by her two real kids. Professional child actors are bad enough; amateurs like these (“What. Was. That?”)  are completely unwatchable. The Games Master (John) delivers his lines with more emotion, and he’s a robotic eye in the sky.

I suspect the two issues mentioned above interact with each other. By this I mean, the depiction of the dinosaurs is so inept, it hamstrings the director in terms of what he can do. Shot of extinct, hungry reptile. Shot of contestant looking terrified, and probably screaming. Thoroughly unconvincing shot of reptile eating contestant. Rinse. Repeat. There’s no sense of escalation or real development, beyond one of the competitors being a plant. Oops, I’ve spoiled it. Sue me. There’s a (rather unconvincing) gun found at one point, and that might have been an interesting way to develop things, with various “power-ups” being available. The writer couldn’t be bothered, apparently.

Mind you, the same goes for just about every other aspect of the script too, including the logistical one of how no-one has apparently noticed dinosaurs roaming rural England. As a result of this laziness and general incompetence, everything unfolds in utterly predictable fashion. The dinosaurs refuse to eat the children, and the film can’t even be bothered to play by its own rules. It has repeatedly been stressed that as far as winners go, to borrow a line from Highlander, there can be only one. Then, at the end… Nah, never mind. And that’s aside from the question of how the winner is going to get paid after the person running the event has been eaten. Oops, more spoilers. But if you still wish to watch this, after everything I have said above, a) I have failed at my job as a critic, and b) you deserve whatever results.

Dir: Jack Peter Mundy
Star: Chrissie Wunna, Chelsea Greenwood, Alexander John, Ruby Wunna

The Adventures of Maid Marian

  By

★★★
“How do you solve a problem like Maria-n…?”

The above rating reflects my deep-held tolerance for low budget cinema. If a film is made with heart, I’m generally prepared to overlook, to some degree, technical shortcomings. Both sides of that equation are present here, in a somewhat revisionist take on the Robin Hood mythos. This takes place after Hood’s original victory over the Sheriff of Nottingham, and he has now gone on crusade to the Holy Lands with King Richard. In their absence, however, the country has not fared well. Marian (Craig) has adopted another identity, and is hiding out as novice nun Matilda, though occasionally sneaks out to help poach from the rich, and give to the poor.

Richard dies abroad, and Robin (Andersen) returns, to find himself greeted warmly by Marian, who has been booted out of her religious order, and not-so warmly by the former Sheriff, William De Wendenal (Cryer), who still bears a grudge against the pair for their role in the loss of his title. Robin is captured and injured, leaving Marian as the only hope of rescue before he’s executed along with his long-time sidekick, Little John (Pellet). Naturally, she is more than up to the task, having both run with the outlaws of Sherwood Forest, and then had to fend for herself, during the three-year span when Robin was overseas. While Marian may be a damsel, she’s more likely to be causing distress, rather than being in it.

She’s certainly more convincing a hero of folklore than Robin, who looks barely old enough to shave, never mind lead a popular rebellion against authority. As a contrast, the last film I saw about the character returning from the Crusades was Robin and Marian, starring a very world weary and middle-aged Sean Connery. Andersen has none of that gravitas, perhaps deliberately to avoid taking the focus away from the heroine. Craig is fine, holding her own dramatically and in action, and occasionally better than fine, even if the ease with which she dispatches enemies close to twice her weight in sword-fights, is painful. In particular, their “armour” doesn’t seem to give them any protection at all: the slightest tap from Marian and they fold like cheap sheets.

As noted, you very much need to be able to look past what is, by and large, an exercise in running around in the forest. There are no bustling towns to be found here: I’m not sure there was ever a scene where the count of participants reached double figures. The buildings are unconvincing. and you never get any sense of this genuinely being the 13th century. However, it is played gratifyingly straight, since otherwise it’d have to compete with fondly-remembered nineties TV series, Maid Marian and her Merry Men (created by Baldrick from Blackadder). Yet it’s also so fast and loose in its cheerful disregard of historical accuracy, it almost plays as a dead-pan spoof. The ending is left wide-open for a sequel, and despite (because of?) all its flaws, I have a sneaking hope that comes to pass.

Dir: Bill Thomas
Star: Sophie Craig, Dominic Andersen, Bob Cryer, Jon Lee Pellet

Reign of Chaos

  By

★
“Future schlock.”

There are spells where I find myself going through a stream of mediocre movies, wondering when I’ll see something genuinely good. Then, I stumble into the likes of this, which leaves me yearning for the heady delights of mediocrity. It was in trouble right from the start, with five minutes of opening voice-over that did nothing but leave me confused. Then again, if your story requires five minutes of opening voice-over in the first place, you should probably rethink your storytelling techniques. The same could be said for a post-apocalyptic scenario in which food is in short supply, yet black pleather cat-suits are apparently easily available, in a range of sizes to fit all needs.

A plague has swept the land, turning the bulk of the population into flesh-eating “Joiners”. That is not the worst of it. For it turns out, Chaos is harvesting souls to usher in an unending period of unimaginable torment. Perhaps one where pleather cat-suits might be slightly difficult to come by. Humanity’s sole hope is the three descendants of the Greek goddess Nike: Nicole (Finch), Lindsay (Wood), and Alina (Di Tuccio). They are brought together under the tutelage of Rhodri (Cosgrove), trained in the arts of battle and sent off to face Chaos in their pleather cat-suits. He turns out to be a pasty-faced baldie, like Voldemort with a nose, though the final battle is so underwhelming you may wonder if the final reel went missing.

Let me be clear: there is hardly an element of this which reaches even the level of semi-competent. The most obvious flaw is a world, supposedly collapsed into anarchy and… dare I say it, Chaos, which looks utterly indistinguishable from our current one. Lawns are well-maintained, there is not a broken window is to be seen, and the neighbourhood even has a well-stocked boxing gym open. It’s truly the least convincing apocalypse ever. Into this fit our trio of heroines, who are, similarly, the least convincing saviours of the world ever. Their combat skills are negligible, and I have to assume they were cast solely for their ability to wear a pleather cat-suit (something I allow they do better than I could). Admittedly, their performances are not exactly helped by having to deliver laughable lines, such as, “Goddess power, bitch!”

The above is written as someone who has watched and, indeed, made his fair share of poverty-row cinema. The number one rule of this is: just because you can write it on the page, does not mean you can film it. You need to be permanently aware of the limitations which your lack of resources impose, and operate within them. The makers here seem to have no such idea, writing their way into a corner which a hundred times their budget would have struggled to escape. Ambition is laudable. This instead plays like a child in a cardboard box making “Vroom! Vroom!” sounds, and does not a Ferrari make.

Dir: Rebecca Matthews
Star: Rebecca Finch, Rita Di Tuccio, Georgia Wood, Peter Cosgrove