Parky at the Pictures (In Cinemas 25/7/2013)

This is by no means a bad thing, as Greta Gerwig's performance as Frances Halflady is every bit as quirky and charming as Sara Simmonds's as the feisty, yet vulnerable Vivian. But, as with Baumbach's previous collaboration with Gerwig, on Greenberg (2010), the script lacks the precision to merit comparison with the indie classics the pair are striving so hard to emulate. Considering that Gerwig started out in mumblecore, it's splendid to see her being hailed in some quarters as the best young actress in America. Yet, while this offbeat comedy will win her many new fans, one is still left wondering whether she is quite in the calibre of, say, Michelle Williams, who almost played the mirror image of Frances Ha in Kelly Reichardt's Wendy and Lucy (2008).

Sharing an apartment on Vanderbilt Avenue in Brooklyn, Greta Gerwig and Mickey Sumner are almost inseparable. They joke that they are like an old lesbian couple who no longer have sex and Gerwig confirms her commitment to Sumner when she turns down boyfriend Michael Esper's offer to move in with him. Barely pausing to contemplate the break-up, Gerwig meets Sumner at a party in Chinatown and is amused by the attention they receive from sculptor Adam Driver and aspiring Saturday Night Live writer Michael Zegen. However, when Driver sends Gerwig a blunt text about going on a date, she is less than impressed.

Gerwig wants to be a dancer and idolises Charlotte d'Amboise, who runs the small company where Gerwig takes bit parts in productions and runs junior classes to earn some much-needed extra revenue. But she knows she can always rely on Sumner to take care of things, as she has a well-paid job in publishing and has an on-off relationship with high-flying financier Patrick Heusinger. Then, however, Sumner announces that she wants to move into a new apartment in the trendy Tribeca district and leaves Gerwig high and dry because she will never be able to pay the rent alone.

A solution arises, though, when Gerwig gets a tax rebate and invites Driver to dinner. The evening doesn't quite go according to plan, as Gerwig's credit card is rejected in the restaurant and she has to walk several blocks to find a cash machine. Moreover, she trips on the pavement and cuts her elbow. But Driver insists on patching her up and, as a result, she discovers that there might be a vacancy in their building. Zegen arrives home with a couple of girls he has picked up and they encourage Gerwig to dance for them and she prepares everyone a snack. Having made a suitably positive impression, Gerwig is asked to move into Catherine Street and she is seen skipping through the daytime Chinatown streets to David Bowie's `Modern Love' in a scene that seems to reference Michael Fassbender's nocturnal jog in Steve McQueen's Shame (2011).

Fitting into her surroundings as easily as Zooey Deschanel in New Girl, Gerwig discovers that Driver's overnight guest, Justine Lupe, once slept with Sumner's brother and she is put out to learn that Lupe knows more about her bosom buddy's current circumstances than she does. She is also disconcerted by the fact that Lupe thinks she looks older than 27. Yet, instead of rising to the challenge to go out and make something of her day, Gerwig wastes time watching a movie on television and eating a takeaway. She perks up when Sumner pays a visit and they lapse back into their familiar bantering routine. But, as Gerwig jokes that Zegen says she is undateable, Sumner urges her to grow up and face reality, as she is dirt poor while Zegen and Driver are both from wealthy families and can afford to behave as though they are in a sitcom.

Stung by the criticism and the realisation that she and Sumner are drifting apart, Gerwig again seeks solace in the sofa and Zegen's fraternal concern. But things get worse when d'Amboise breaks the news that Gerwig is not going to be in the Christmas show and Sumner tells her that she is going on an exotic vacation with Heusinger. Hurt that her friend is in love, Gerwig makes a scene and storms out of the bar with an expensive bottle of vodka, which she decides against drinking, as she needs to tidy her room. Zegen interrupts work on his speculative screenplay for Gremlins 3 to provide a shoulder to cry on and Driver opines that they will probably end up married one day. However, Gerwig is no longer sure about anything and, as Zegen puts her to bed, she stares at herself in the mirror.

Shortly afterwards, Gerwig flies to Sacramento, California to spend the holidays with her parents, Gordon and Christine Gerwig. As the ensuing montage reveals, she has a nice time catching up with old friends, going to church and relaxing with the family. Indeed, she is much less highly strung than she is in New York, but it doesn't take long for her to become stressed again, as she needs to find somewhere else to live. She is offered a couch by fellow dancer Grace Gummer, but struggles to fit in with her friends during a dinner party, as Britta Phillips, Dean Wareham, Josh Hamilton and Juliet Rylance keep talking about jobs, babies and people she doesn't know. Moreover, whenever Gerwig tries to join in the conversation, they look askance as she rambles on about minor incidents from her own life.

However, she learns from Phillips that Sumner has quit her job and is about to relocate to Japan with Heusinger. Once again, she is distressed at being left out of the loop and everyone listens in sympathetic silence as Gerwig gets tipsy and wishes she could experience that perfect moment in which she meets the eyes of her soulmate across a crowded room. Indeed, when she impulsively announces that she is going to Paris for the weekend, Hamilton and Rylance offer her the use of their pied-à-terre and they bid her goodnight with something approaching indulgent affection.

As she staggers home, Gerwig bumps into a bearded Zegen and his new girlfriend, Maya Kazan, who invite her to a party. However, she insists on going home to pack for a trip she intends paying for with a new credit card and she feels good about herself as she flies over the City of Light. The apartment is magnificent and she buoyantly leaves a message for friend Serena Longley about meeting up while she is in France. But Gerwig can't sleep, as, for all her claims at loving being alone, she needs companionship. In fact, she needs an audience.

She takes some sleeping pills and wakes well into the following afternoon and finds that most of the shops have shut, as she wanders the streets at dusk. Disappointed at not hearing from Longley, she puts on a brave face when Sumner calls to invite her to a going away party and insists that her dance career is so going well that she can turn down an offer to flat sit. Gerwig tells Sumner she loves her before hanging up and wandering the streets alone. Having spent much of the next day in bed, she flies home and shrugs as she checks her voicemail to find a message from Longley inviting her to a soirée full of fascinating people.

Instead, Gerwig heads for a meeting with d'Amboise, who offers her an office job on informing her that she is never going to make it as a dancer. Gerwig bluffs that she has some intriguing offers lined up, but passes up a chance of security to spend the summer working on the conferences being held at her alma mater, Vassar College, in the upstate town of Poughkeepsie. Once again, Gerwig feels old, as she realises she has nothing in common with the recent graduates helping with the holiday programme and is dismayed to be given mostly waitressing duties. She further depresses herself by reading the blog that Sumner and Heusinger have launched to proclaim their happiness in Japan. Yet, she still sits with a girl she finds crying in a corridor and reassures her folks that everything is fine - even though she gets told off by a groundskeeper for smoking in the woods.

One evening, however, as she is ensuring that congresswoman and potential benefactor Cindy Katz has everything she wants, Gerwig spots a drunken Sumner arguing with Heusinger because he doesn't want her to be hungover at his grandfather's funeral the following morning. Gerwig sashays over, but is distraught to discover that Sumner is now engaged, even though she detests Japan and is appalled at the prospect of marrying into a family with Nazi connections.

For once almost speechless, Gerwig listens to Sumner berating Heusinger, as he drives Gerwig back to her digs. In the middle of the night, however, Sumner arrives in search of a bed after a blazing row and confides as she throws up into a wastepaper basket that she recently had a miscarriage. The friends squeeze on to the single bed and Sumner discloses that they are coming home, as Japan is a nightmare. Gerwig jokes that they will be like a couple of women rediscovering themselves after a divorce and they doze off after saying they love each other. But Sumner has left by the time Gerwig wakes up and she is unable to catch up with her before her car drives off into the distance.

Newly ensconced in Washington Heights in the northern reaches of Manhattan, Gerwig accepts d'Amboise's job offer and seems to be enjoying office life, as well as her dance sessions with the youngsters. Moreover, she has been rehearsing her own small company in a piece about chance encounters leading to the formation of a community and everyone she has met in the course of the film is in attendance as she watches with apprehension. Zegen comes to congratulate her during the after-show party, as does d'Amboise. But, as she enthuses about the choreography, Gerwig looks across the room and catches the eye of the newly married Sumner and they smile. Some time later, she moves the rest of her stuff into her new apartment and writes her name on a label for the doorbells. However, she can only fit part of it in and the picture closes on the words `Frances Ha' in the nameplate.

Played with infinitesimal gusto by the exceptional Greta Gerwig, this often feels like following someone on their social media pages. Every detail of a chaotic existence is laid bare and Gerwig seems to have no qualms about sharing everything with everyone. Yet, while such intimate unpredictability makes her character fascinating, it also quickly starts to make her seem superficial. Indeed, her kookiness owes more to Diane Keaton's Annie Hall than more modern woman like Miranda July's characters in Me and You and Everyone We Know (2005) and The Future (2011) or Lena Dunham's in Tiny Furniture (2010) or Girls (2012-). The easy solutions to her problems also seem to belong to an earlier age and Baumbach appears to reinforce this mythical innocence by having Sam Levy's cinematography resemble Raoul Coutard's in the early days of the French New Wave and peppering the soundtrack with themes from the scores that Georges Delerue composed for François Truffaut.

The spirit of the post-9/11 generation does come through, however, in the restlessness and sense of entitlement that seem inevitable consequences of an age of instant communication, celebrity, gratification and achievement. But, while a certain glibness pervades proceedings that just occasionally recall Gerwig's struggles in Daryl Wein's rite-of-passage Lola Versus (2012), Baumbach keeps the action moving at too brisk a clip to allow the audience to dwell on the facile nature of some of the script's observations and conclusions on the transience of youth, some of which were inspired by Joseph Conrad's novel, The Shadow Line. Moreover, he coaxes bullish supporting turns out of a fine ensemble led by Sting and Trudie Styler's daughter, Mickey Sumner. But, while they always seem to be acting, Gerwig simply exists in the moment.

It's intriguing to compare Gerwig's acting with that of Audrey Hepburn in William Wyler's Roman Holiday, which is being reissued to mark its 60th anniversary. Born and raised in the Netherlands, Hepburn had arrived in New York with only a clutch of movie bit parts to her credit. Yet, while she had enjoyed Broadway success in the musical Gigi, she knew little of Hollywood expectations of a star performance. Consequently, her natural charm and elfin exuberance felt like a breath of fresh air and there is little wonder that she won the Academy Award for Best Actress in her first major role. But what is perhaps most interesting about this joyous paean to the Eternal City is the way that Gregory Peck, who was entering his second decade as a major star, responded to Hepburn's promptings to reinvent himself as a romantic lead with a dash of mischief instead of his trademark angst.

Bored with the endless round of formal engagements on her European tour, Princess Audrey Hepburn arrives in Rome and manages to lose a shoe under her flowing gown as she tries to take the weight off her feet during a reception. Once back in her room, she complains to lady-in-waiting Margaret Rawlings that she wants some time to herself, but she is given a sedative and told she will feel better in the morning. Frustrated at not being taken seriously, Hepburn slips down the corridor and escapes the embassy in the back of a truck. Finally free to explore the streets, she delights in the sights and sounds as ordinary people live la dolce vita. But she is quickly overcome by the effects of her shot and curls up to sleep on a low wall.

She is discovered by Rome Daily American reporter Gregory Peck, who has just won a tidy sum playing cards with photographer friend Eddie Albert and cries off early as he has to attend a press conference with the boring princess the following morning. Having never seen her picture, he doesn't recognise Hepburn. But he knows he can't leave a vulnerable young woman on her own and bundles her into Alfredo Rizzi's taxi. Unable to get any address out of her other than the Colosseum, Peck decides it would be better if she spent the night in his cramped bedsit and confides his secret to elderly landlord Claudio Ermelli. Peck is amused by Hepburn's haughty manner and her demand for a silk nightgown with rosebuds on it. But, when he returns to the room to find she has fallen asleep on his bed in a pair of his pyjamas, he rolls her on to the adjoining couch and settles down for the night.

Unfortunately, Peck sleeps too well and misses the scheduled assignation with the princess. Nevertheless, leaving Hepburn asleep, he breezes into the office and assures editor Hartley Power that he has just come from the embassy and that the interview went swimmingly. Power already knows, however, that the princess was taken ill in the night and that the session was cancelled. But, when he sees a photograph of the stricken royal, Peck knows he has a major scoop on his hands and concludes a deal for $5000 for an exclusive interview, as well as a $500 side bet with Power.

Dashing home, Peck is relieved to find Hepburn is still asleep and, while she takes a bath, he calls Albert and tells him to bring a concealed camera so they can get some candid shots of Hepburn exploring the city. But she doesn't want a chaperon and heads off on her own, stopping at Paolo Carlini's hairdressing salon to have her long tresses cut modishly short so that no one will recognise her. Carlini invites her to go dancing by the Tiber that night and she sets off to explore. Peck catches up with her on the Spanish Steps, however, and offers to buy her lunch, over which she explains that she has run away from school and that her father is in public relations. On asked what he does for a living, Peck claims that he sells chemicals.

Albert meets them at the café and immediately recognises Hepburn and Peck has to kick him under the table to stop him from giving the game away. He agrees to a 25% cut of the fee for some atmospheric photographs and uses a camera hidden in a cigarette lighter to snap away, as Peck and Hepburn see the sights from the back of a Vespa. At one point, they are stopped by the police because Hepburn is driving so erratically, but Peck persuades the desk sergeant that they were hurrying to get married and he lets them go. Albert jokes that Peck is a good liar and, in the portico of the Church of Santa Maria in Cosmedin, Peck pretends to have his hand bitten off by the famous Mouth of Truth and Hepburn screams (genuinely, as Peck ad libbed this business after an old Red Skelton gag).

Feeling as though she can trust Peck, Hepburn confides that she longs to live a normal life without responsibility, but she isn't tempted to make a wish when they visit a wall covered with prayer plaques that had become a source of solace during the war. Instead, she suggests they go dancing on a barge in the shadow of Castel Sant'Angelo and she is pleased to see Carlini and his friends. However, government agents have tracked Hepburn down and, when one tries to abduct her, Peck and Albert cause a fracas and, amidst the chaos, Peck and Hepburn jump overboard and swim to the bank. They kiss before heading back to his flat to dry off. As they listen to the radio, Hepburn hears news that her illness is causing alarm among her subjects and she knows she has to go back to the embassy. Without asking any questions, Peck drops her off at the corner and drives away.

Once back inside her cloistered world, Hepburn tells ambassador Harcourt Williams that she is ready to resume her duties, but she refuses the milk and cookies that Rawlings brings to her room. The following morning, Peck also stands up to authority, as he tells Power that he has no story and, while he enjoys looking at the pictures that Albert took of their odyssey, he refuses to betray the trust that Hepburn has placed in him. He is rewarded, however, when Hepburn holds her delayed press conference and speaks to Peck and Albert in person and assures them that she will never forget her time in Rome. Peck presents her with an envelope containing the snapshots and, having watched her depart, slowly walks through the magnificent hall cherishing his own priceless memories.

A good deal of opportunistic pragmatism lay behind the production of this charming inversion of the Cinderella story. When screenwriter Dalton Trumbo was blacklisted as a member of the notorious Hollywood Ten, Ian McLellan Hunter agreed to act as a front for his story idea, which was optioned by Frank Capra, who hoped to cast Cary Grant and Elizabeth Taylor in what amounted to a variation on his multi-Oscar-winning screwball, It Happened One Night (1934). However, financial problems at his Liberty Films company forced him to sell the property to Paramount, where a combination of political timidity (on the conservative Capra's discovery of Trumbo's involvement) and a tight budget prompted him to withdraw.

After George Stevens passed, the project was offered to William Wyler, who was not only glad to make his first comedy since the mid-1930s, but was also keen to work abroad in order to exploit a tax loophole. Paramount similarly saw the advantages of a runaway production (as it had assets frozen in Italy), while Gregory Peck, who had initially been reluctant to star opposite a newcomer, recognised the value of lightening his image. Even Audrey Hepburn - who had been chosen over Jean Simmons and Suzanne Cloutier, despite the fact that none of her seven European screen roles had amounted to much - realised that this was her big chance to follow up her stage success in Gigi.

However, the cynicism and hard-nosed business sense that had shaped Roman Holiday's genesis evaporated once shooting began. Wyler was as enchanted with Hepburn as he was with his glorious locations and, while he indulged his usual passion for retakes, he allowed more improvisation than usual and was rewarded with a film of such freewheeling spontaneity that it became one of Hollywood's biggest international hits of the decade. It also landed 10 Oscar nominations and became such a firm favourite of John F. Kennedy that he watched it as a pressure release at the height of the Cuban Missile Crisis and the Soviets capitulated the next day.

There's a pleasing circularity about the fact that this picture was originally released around the time of the Coronation and is now resurfacing as a royal baby is born. But, while it has its asides about duty and patriotism, this is a celebration of youth, freedom and love and it remains a joy to behold. The monochrome photography of Henri Alekan, Hal Pereira and Franz Planer restores some glamour to a city that had been presented in a more sombre light during the neo-realist era, while George Auric's frisky score adds to the enchantment. The  byplay between Peck and Hepburn is equally bewitching and it's a shame they never worked together again. But how could they ever have topped this delightful confection, which at last emerged from its HUAC ignominy in 2002, when Dalton Trumbo's credit was finally acknowledged on screen

Grace Kelly, of course, became a princess for real. She met Prince Rainier of Monaco in 1954, while making To Catch a Thief with Alfred Hitchcock. Her first outing with the Master of Suspense is revived this week in its original 3-D format. But, rather than assessing the efficacy of the 60-year-old stereoscopy in Dial M for Murder, we shall concentrate on its making and how successfully Hitch reworked a stage hit for the screen.

Hitchcock was struggling with a project called The Bramble Bush, a mistaken identity yarn about a crook who steals a murderer's passport, when he agreed to direct Frederick Knott's adaptation of his own theatrical success. But, even though it was well reviewed and remains revered by aficionados, Hitchcock was never particularly fond of the film, even though it is bleakly amusing and reveals a good deal about his approach to film-making.

Knott's play had premiered on the BBC in March 1952 before running for 425 performances in the West End and a further 552 on Broadway. It was a neatly constructed affair, although hardly original, as it bore the influence of both the real-life case of ex-RAF office Neville Heath (who had been executed for the murder of two women) and St John L. Clowes's thriller, Dear Murderer, which had been filmed by Arthur Crabtree with Eric Portman in 1947. Warners had acquired the rights for £30,000 from Sir Alexander Korda (who had originally paid a mere £1000 for them) and Hitchcock made few alterations to Knott's screenplay. Indeed, Hitch seemed to be more interested in setting himself technical difficulties than in teasing the audience.

As he had demonstrated with Rope (1948) and would do again with his next picture, Rear Window , Hitch saw no need to open out the action for the sake of it and relished the chance to play claustrophobic games with the décor of a single set. Such confinement intensified the action and he further heightened it here by his mischievous use of 3-D. Whereas most directors settled for hurling a few objects towards the camera to give the viewer a visceral thrill, Hitch used the extra dimension to highlight props and angles and, thus, create a more dislocated atmosphere. He employed colour in a similar way, gradually removing warmer hues to emphasise the chill of reality closing in around the hapless Kelly.

Grace Kelly is married to retired tennis player Ray Milland. However, she has been having an affair with thriller writer Robert Cummings and, when he arrives in London from the United States, she explains that one of his love letters has gone missing and that she is being blackmailed for £50. As they chat, Milland comes home and urges them to go out without him, as he has things to do.

In fact, he is meeting with former army captain Anthony Dawson, who has fallen on hard times since the war and has recently come out of prison. He recognises Milland from his  heyday and Milland admits that he married Kelly for her money, which he used to set himself up in a sporting goods business. However, after returning from a trip to America, he had noticed that Kelly's feeling towards him had changed and he followed her to a rendezvous with her lover. Such was his sense of outrage that he had considered killing them both, but he decided to toy with her and stole one of Cummings's letters and used it to blackmail Kelly. Her guilty response to his demand confirmed Milland's suspicions and he now wants Dawson to murder Kelly while he is at a stag party with Cummings and make it look as though she was killed by an intruder. The prospect of £100 down and £900 more on completion of the job proves too much for Dawson and he agrees to the plan.

The following evening, Milland and Cummings have an aperitif before going out. They discuss the perfect murder and Kelly jokes they are both morbid. Milland asks to borrow her latch key and makes a fuss when she asks to keep it because she was thinking of going to the pictures. Having persuaded Kelly to stay in and update his scrapbook, Milland steals the key and hides it under the stair carpet outside their apartment, so that Dawson can gain entrance without being heard.

The men leave for the party, where Milland curses that his watch has stopped, as he pops into the hotel lobby to call Kelly to check she is okay. It's 10:54pm and Dawson is hiding behind the curtains in the study as Kelly answers the phone. He pounces as she lifts the receiver and tries to throttle her with a scarf. But Kelly reaches out for a pair of scissors on the desk and plunges them into her assailant's back, killing him instantly as he falls. In blind panic, she returns to the phone and is relieved to hear Milland on the line. He has been listening with growing horror at what has happened and he urges Kelly to touch nothing until he gets home. Kelly throws herself into Milland's arms and he advises her to take an aspirin. While she is out of the room, he removes the latch key from Dawson's pocket and slips it into Kelly's handbag. He also burns the scarf in the fire and places the missing love letter in the dead man's pocket, so that the police will draw the conclusion that Kelly had killed her blackmailer in a fit of pique

The next morning, Chief Inspector John Williams arrives to investigate and immediately finds it odd that there are no footprints in the wet garden and deduces that Dawson must have been admitted by Kelly, as there is no key in his pocket and there are no signs of a forced entry. Milland pretends to co-operate, while protesting his wife's innocence, especially when a pair of incriminating stockings are found on the body. When Cummings shows up, Williams sends Milland on an errand in the garden and asks the American if Milland knew that he has been cuckolded. Cummings admits to knowing about the blackmail notes, but refuses to believe that Kelly could kill anybody and shoots Milland a jaundiced look as he calls his lawyer to escort Kelly to the police station.

A montage follows showing Kelly standing trial and being convicted of murder. But, even though she is due to be executed the following day, Cummings refuses to give up hope. As Milland had mendaciously claimed that Dawson was an old college chum, Cummings begs him to say that he had been in cahoots with the blackmailer and had planted evidence to frame Kelly because he had been hurt by her infidelity. Milland mocks his attempts to protect Kelly and sends him to wait in the bedroom while he meets with Williams, who is looking into a robbery. The inspector drops a key on the floor and asks Milland if it belongs to him. However, as he asks Milland about a blue attaché case, Cummings finds it stashed away and bursts in to claim that this was the money that Milland had promised Dawson for killing Kelly. But Milland insists that his wife must have withdrawn it to silence her blackmailer and he goes out regretting that nothing can be done to spare her.

What Milland didn't see, however, is that Williams had swapped his raincoat for another and, as he insouciantly combs his moustache, he telephones headquarters to start the ball rolling. A few minutes later, Kelly arrives home in a police car and Williams waits for her to try the key in her bag. 

Even when he felt little connection with a scenario, Alfred Hitchcock still sought to make a film's audiovisual element as polished as possible. Consequently, he decided to make the stagebound setting of Frederick Knott's story its greatest virtue and then used props, forced perspectives, compositional contrasts and camera movements to make the action as visually arresting as possible. He was deeply indebted to Edward Carrere, who not only designed the sets, but also the costumes that play such a crucial role in showing Kelly's innocent victim come ever closer to the edge of the precipice. Cinematographer Robert Burks and editor Rudi Fehr also made crucial contributions, as Hitch relied less on long takes to incorporate the three-dimensional effects and guide the audience's attention to key details within the mise-en-scène.

Yet, while this is a typically technically accomplished picture, the performances are not particularly impressive. Ray Milland does a nice line in suave suburban malice, while John Williams excels as the impish inspector. But the ever-bland Robert Cummings (with whom Hitchcock had worked against his better judgement on Saboteur in 1942) often overplays his hand, while Grace Kelly is given too little to do as the treacherous, but often simpering wife unable to stop the evidence mounting against her. Part of the problem lies in the fact that Knott retained so much of his stage dialogue, with the result that the action is often static and talky. But Hitch wasn't that interested in what the characters were saying. What mattered was how the scene was blocked and how his ingenuity resolved the problems he he had posed himself. Ultimately, this represented only a small step forward from the enclosed space experiment he had conducted in Rope and he would do much better with the final part of what could be called the `chamber' trilogy: Rear Window.

If the storytelling is occasionally a little self-consciously intricate in Dial M, it is almost capriciously convoluted in Days of Grace, the feature debut Everado Valerio Gout, an assistant director on Baz Luhrmann's William Shakespeare's Romeo + Juliet (1996), who has spent much of the intervening period directing and producing shorts in his native Mexico. Initially launched at Cannes in 2011, alongside Gerardo Naranjo's Miss Bala, this may lack that film's dramatic power or control. But it evokes the combustibility of the `heroic bloodshed' crime thrillers made in Hong Kong in the 1990s and makes such eye-catching use of aspect ratios and confined spaces that it can be forgiven the arch structural complexities linking events taking place during the World Cups of 2002, 2006 and 2010, when the already hard-pressed police force has its eye on the wrong ball.

In Mexico City in 2002, honest cop Tenoch Huerta puts the fear of God into the adolescent Kristyan Ferrer and his drug-dealing buddy by forcing them to strip at gunpoint in a bid to prevent them from becoming hardened criminals. Huerta has just become a father and dotes on wife Sonia Couoh and young son. He is equally close to partner Mario Zaragoza and is concerned when he is wounded. However, he is even more dismayed when Zaragoza ask him to deliver an envelope containing a photograph of a leading actor. When the man is kidnapped some time later, Huerta confronts his friend about his involvement with the underworld and he is advised not to get involved.

Commander José Sefami is impressed by Huerta's integrity and promotes him so he can join his crack anti-corruption unit. However, Huerta quickly learns that being a Dorado comes at a price, as when he is sent to close down a restaurant because Veronica Falcón is supposedly using it as a front for drug-smuggling and kidnapping, Huerta is informed by Falcón that he is too naive to mess with people far more ruthless than he could ever imagine. Still troubled by the actor's disappearance, Huerta asks Zaragoza about the source of the photograph and he finds himself on the tail of black marketeer Francisco Barreiro. But his reckless devotion to duty results in Couoh and their child being abducted and the distraught Huerta beats Zaragoza to death for not tipping him off that they were in danger. He also snatches Falcón in reprisal, only to discover that he has been manipulated by Sefami, who has taken over the running of the restaurant and its sidelines and the enraged Huerta guns him down in cold blood.

Four years later, businessman Carlos Bardem is bundled into a room by Ferrer and his pal Harold Torres, who are sidekicks for a mysterious boss known only as `The Teacher'. Bardem recognises that Ferrer is football mad and tries to use events in Germany to strike up a rapport. He tells Ferrer that he can arrange for them to collect a $2 million ransom and the youths agree to make the pick-up. However, Torres is killed and Ferrer informs The Teacher that he wants nothing more to do with the crime. The shadowy mastermind turns out to be Huerta, who has decided that honesty is the worst policy, and he forces Ferrer into a shootout that claims the lives of both the corrupt cop and the helpless Bardem.

As the mundial gets going in South Africa in 2010, another businessman is kidnapped and wife Dolores Heredia anxiously awaits news with their pregnant maid, Eileen Yañez. The latter has never revealed that the missing man is the father of her child. But she is more concerned that her brother Ferrer is somehow involved with the crime. Despite discovering that her husband has been unfaithful, Heredia is not prepared to sacrifice the lifestyle to which she has become accustomed. Therefore, she summons her spouse's business partner and orders him to pay the ransom, with the result that he is freed a few hours later.

Given how slender each of the storylines are, one can understand why Gout would want to fragment the action and, in the process, draw sly comparisons between the three cases. But this mosaic approach fails to address the troublesome issues with the depth of characterisation and the shifting perspectives within each vignette. There is no doubting the gravity of the situation, with figures suggesting that over 70 people a day were kidnapped in Mexico in 2012. But, in demonstrating how tangled connections become over time, Gout never allows the audience to identify entirely with a single character. Moreover, rather chauvinistically, he seems far less interested in the ménage involving Heredia and Yañez than he is in the fates of Huerta, Ferrer and Bardem. As a consequence, the 2010 episode feels tacked on and its sibling twist ties up the loose ends a tad too conveniently.

Yet, what it lacks in narrative profundity, this laudably ambitious picture more than makes up for in visual panache. Cinematographer Luis David Sansans makes dynamic use of the handheld camera technique and editors Hervé Schneid and José Salcedo sustain the momentum with their breakneck editing. But it's the switches between aspect ratios and film formats that makes this so distinctive. The tactic is legitimised by the fact that it makes the timeframes easier to identify, with the 2002 segment being shot in the 3:1 Academy ratio on 16mm stock, the 2006 sequences being filmed in standard 1.85:1 on Super 8, 16mm and 35mm, and the 2010 episodes being shot on 35mm in the widescreen 2.35:1 format. But it also impacts upon Bernardo Trujillo's sets, as the dimensions of the room in which the kidnap victims are held seem to change, even though it is actually only the furnishings that vary.

The contributions made to the score by Nick Cave and Warren Ellis, as well as by Atticus Ross and Shigeru Umebayashi similarly heighten the sense of delineation and disorientation. But Gout is too often intent on using this as a calling card to persuade producers with bigger budgets at their disposal that he is the man for the job. The standout shot (which has to have involved some CGI) is a 360° pan that appears to age a room eight years in a matter of seconds. But, elsewhere, the use of blurring and shakicam feels forced, while the scene in which a body part is savagely severed is a clumsy homage to Quentin Tarantino's Reservoir Dogs (1992). The performances are equally hit and miss, although it is possible from the milieu he depicts to see how Huerta could decline from being a family man and rule-book cop (who is proud of the fact that revolutionary hero Emiliano Zapata had reputedly once prevented his grandmother from being raped) to become a wild hyena, who no longer sees why he is constricted by laws that have consistently let him down on a personal and a professional basis.

Gabriela Cowperthwaite adopts a much more conventional style for her documentary, Blackfish. But this investigation into the capture and confinement of killer whales by theme parks in North America has such a compelling story to tell that the blend of archive footage and talking-head interview keeps the focus on the grim facts surrounding Tilikum, a 12,000lb bull orca, whose notoriety is almost entirely down to the exploitative executives who put profit above the physical and psychological well-being of the animals in their care. It is hardly surprising that the SeaWorld organisation refused to co-operate with this picture, as the evidence is stacked so high against its practices that no amount of eloquent justification could satisfactorily counter it. But there is nothing triumphalist about this harrowing exposé. Indeed, an air of melancholy informs the testimony of trainers who deeply regret buying into a corporate ethos that they now realise flies in the fact of both science and plain human decency.

On 24 February 2010, emergency services in the vicinity of SeaWorld in Orlando, Florida received calls that there had been an accident at Shamu Stadium. As audio of these 911 exchanges play on the soundtrack, Cowperthwaite cross-cuts between footage of wet-suited trainers interacting with whales during public shows and former employees John Hargrove, Samantha Berg, Mark Simmons, Carol Ray, Dean Gomersall, John Jett and Jeff Ventre all expressing their surprise that a trainer as experienced as Dawn Brancheau had been killed in such an horrific manner.

A clip from an old promotional film fronted by James Earle Jones boasts of the years of study and coaching required before a trainer could be entrusted with one of the most majestic and intelligent animals in the world. But all of the above contradict this claim, while readily admitting that they had all visited water parks as kids and been hooked on the mix of thrill and tranquility they seemed to offer. Gomersall remembers seeing one trainer performing a Wizard of Oz spoof as Dorky with a cowardly sea lion for company and had scoffed that he would never be caught doing something so demeaning and, yet, he was soon playing exactly the same role and having the time of his life. They all mention the awe they felt on being in the presence of such huge, but graceful and mostly friendly creatures and, while Berg enthuses about the first time she rode on a whale's back, Hargrove recollects the delight of establishing a bond with his animals and forming a unique team.

But the Tilikum-Brancheau incident seemed to make all of these trainers question the operational and zoological methods that they had been happy to extol in promotional films and television interviews to boost visitor numbers. But the fact that such a meticulous trainer could perish in such a manner forced them to rethink their attitudes, especially when the Occupational Safety & Health Administration sued SeaWorld and, amidst a montage of news clips, marine expert Dave Duffus explains that orcas are such unpredictable creatures that swimming with them should be outlawed. But, most revealingly, he says that Tilikum had previous form and that such a tragedy was almost inevitable.

In 1970, John Crowe had been part of a whale-hunting expedition to Puget Sound and he readily conceded that the experience shook him. Howard Garrett, the founder of the Orca Network, describes how bombs were used to herd the whales into coves so that the young could be captured. The males caused a diversion that allowed the females to swim north, but they were only spotted by surveillance planes and their babies were trapped in nets and hauled on to the waiting ships, as the parents hovered helplessly crying out in such a pitiful way that left a weeping Crowe feeling as though he was kidnapping a human child. He was even more distressed at being asked to weight the carcasses of three dead infants so that they could not be found by the authorities and, only then, did he realise the illegality of the mission. Garrett says water parks were warned off the Washington coastline after this, but they started sending expeditions to Iceland instead to ensure they had a ready supply of trainable beasts.

One of those captured in the North Atlantic in 1983 was Tilikum, who was 11.5ft long at the age of two and rapidly grew once he was ensconced in the highly inadequate pools at Sealand of the Pacific in Victoria, British Columbia. Eric Walters was one of his first trainers and, along with Ken Balcomb (director of the Centre for Whale Research) and former company director Steve Huxter, he agrees that Tilikum was the star of the show. Huxter concedes that an early trainer had withheld food to punish the creature if he failed to perform his `behaviours' properly and this caused his two female companions, Haida II and Nootka IV, to rake him with their teeth, as they were missing out on treats because of his inadequacies. Moreover, this bullying continued at night, as they were confined in a pool just 20ft across and 30ft deep, which left them virtually immobile for two-thirds of each day.

Trainer Christopher Porter admits that the situation was far from ideal and that the whales could only be lured into this steel box by food. Moreover, Balcomb opines that such treatment would almost certainly have scarred Tilikum emotionally and led to him attacking and killing Keltie Byrne on 20 February 1991. Corinne Cowell and Nadine Kallen were in the audience that day and recall thinking how rundown Sealand was before they spotted Byrne trip and fall into the pool, where Tilikum pulled her under and his companions joined him in attacking her. She had called for help as she had bobbed back to the surface, but nobody had responded to what appears to have been a prolonged attack and Cowell and Kallen were hardly surprised when the park was closed down soon afterwards. But, as Duffus reveals, the verdict of accidental drowning meant that no lawsuits were brought against the owners and that Tilikum was sold to SeaWorld as a prize breeding and performing bull without a stain on his character. But the witnesses to Byrne's demise tell a very different story.

Although the staff at SeaWorld were never given a full explanation, Tilikum was not supposed to perform again. As Garrett explains, too little was known about killer whales at this time and the misconceptions about their nature had been reinforced by Michael Anderon's 1977 film,Orca, a crude hybrid of Moby Dick and Jaws that had starred Richard Harris as a vengeful hunter. But, in fact, there are few recorded orca attacks on humans in the wild, as they are gentle creatures who live in close-knit family groups that have their own distinctive communication patterns. Neuroscientist Lori Marino explains how orcas have a special part of their brains devoted to processing emotions, which enables them to bond more closely than humans and not only develop a greater sense of self, but also share it with the other members of their gam. This pack mentality explains why whales become stranded en masse. But it also suggests why there is antagonism when whales from different pods are forced together in captivity, as they don't necessarily share a language or behavioural systems.

Duffus explains that the Inuit peoples call them `blackfish' and revere them for their speed and power. He admits he would never leave his boat to swim with them, even in the wild, and their ruthless cunning is clearly shown in aerial footage of wild whales trapping a sea lion on an ice floe. But this is where they should be, as they gain so little from human interaction and certainly live longer in the sea than they ever do in water parks - with males reaching ages of 50-60 and females being known to tip 100, while they last for a mere 20-25 years in captivity.
Ventre recalls how enormous Tilikum seemed when he arrived at SeaWorld. But, as whale society is so matriarchal, he was bullied again by the females in his pool, and he was often kept in isolation when he was not being used for breeding. Eventually, however, he was introduced into shows to provide a big splash finale and Jett and Berg remember him always being happy to see his trainers in the morning and that he seemed to like learning tricks and getting a positive reaction from people. As they had been told that the females had killed Keltie Byrne, the staff always considered him a big softie. But Berg did notice that certain administrators were always nervous around the pool when Tilikum was there and Ventre recalls being ordered to destroy a tape of a show when he noticed that Tilikum had tried to snatch one of the trainers from the walkway.

Yet, when head trainer Kelly Clark was questioned by OSHA attorney John Black during the court case (presented as line drawings on lined A4 paper with typed dialogue), she said that orcas were as likely to pull someone under the water as he or any other man was likely to commit rape. The potential was there, but it doesn't mean it happens. Judge Ken Welsch ordered that her provocative remark be struck from the record, but Ventre says it was in the notes that accompanied Tilikum from Sealand that he had the propensity to attack. Carol Ray now feels ashamed that she trotted out SeaWorld propaganda about the whales being happy and safe, as she now realises they only performed for food and led miserable existences when left alone. Moreover, she now understands how traumatised Katina was when her disruptive daughter Kalina was taken away and is still haunted by the anguished cries that she recognises now as crushing grief.

Hargrove has a similar story about Kasaka being separated from her calf and reveals that experts were brought in to investigate the plaintiff sounds she kept making that differed markedly from her usual intonation. After much deliberation, they concluded that she was trying to contact her baby and he opines that it is morally unacceptable to put an animal of such sensitivity and intelligence in such a callously harrowing situation. Gomersall similarly regrets bitterly his failure to question the information his bosses kept feeding him, while Berg says she knew a lot about being a trainer, but next to nothing about the animals she was tending. Garrett debunks the myth that whales live longer in captivity and declares that only 1% of males suffer from dorsal fin collapse in the ocean, but almost all enclosed males are stricken. Ventre confirms the folly of mixing whales from different family units and Marino states that such a policy will inevitably lead to violence that would not occur in the natural world, as the whales would rather beat a retreat and find a new area of water than risk a confrontation.

In 1988, an orca named Kandu killed Corky by breaking its jaw so badly that it bled to death before anyone could help it. Berg insists that the trainers he knew always felt close to their animals, but there is no guarantee others will treat them so well and Dawn Brancheau fell victim to the damage that she never knew had been inflicted upon Tilikum.Ray remembers the shock she felt on hearing the news. But, Cowperthwaite reveals that there have been over 70 recorded attacks since 20 April 1971 at the various SeaWorld centres across the United States. In 1987, John Sillick was blamed for allowing a whale to crush him while riding on the back of another. Footage of the incident is shown and it seems clear this was a conscious attack rather than a case of trainer negligence or error. Berg says it is a miracle that Sillick survived the crushing, while quick thinking on the part of colleagues prevented a trainer named Tamaree being pulled under by Orkid and Splash, as she left a leg dangling over the pool edge as she chatted with them. By opening a gate that the whales knew let the older, larger Kasaka into the pool, the staff succeeded in driving the pair away and Tamaree was fortunate to only incur compound fractures of her arm.

Berg insists that she knew nothing of these attacks while working in Orlando and the other ex-trainers agree that an `ask no questions' culture existed and, if anyone made a complaint or was reluctant to go back in the pool after an episode, they would be informed that they could easily be replaced. But the case of Ken Peters and Kasaka on 29 November 2006 did make the headlines after the 5000lb whale grabbed his foot while preparing to do a `rocket hop' and held him at the bottom of the pool for between 60-80 seconds. As an experienced scuba diver and trainer, Peters remained calm and make the most of Kasaka resurfacing to gulp in as much air as possible before being dragged down for a second time. As Duffus says on seeing the footage, the beast was toying with him and it was remarkable that Peters had the presence of mind to calm her down and make a dash for the safety zone once she was sufficiently relaxed.

Yet, rather than admitting that this had been a near fatality, SeaWorld spun the story so it appeared to validate its methodology and the daily shows continued without further inquiry. But not everyone was as skilled as Ken Peters and Daniel P. Dukes perished in the Orlando pool on 7 July 1999 and it was presumed that Tilikum had killed him, as he had kept hold of the body like a doll. According to Ventre, Dukes was mentally disturbed and remained hidden after a show or climbed into the facility clearly tried to commune with the whales. Jett is curious as to why none of the many CCTV cameras around the place failed to capture his image or why the night watch trainer failed to notice any commotion. The management told the media that Dukes had died of hypothermia, but it seems as though Tilikum had stripped him, bitten off his genitals and mauled the corpse. But, rather than destroying him or letting him loose, the owners decided to keep  him as he was too valuable at stud and it is estimated that 45% of SeaWorld orcas have Tilikum's genes.

Mark Simmons doubts that the gene count will prove significant, but he is less confident when Cowperthwaite asks from off camera about Loro Parque in the Canary island of Tenerife. Estefania Rodriguez  is less reticent, however, as she recalls the fate of fiancé Alexis Rodriguez, who was killed by a bull orca named Keto on Christmas Eve in 2009. Suzanne Allee, the video technician at Loro Parque, claims that the attraction was an accident waiting to happen. Four young bulls had been flown over from the US and they were entrusted to inexperienced staff. As the pools hadn't been completed to standard, the animals had health problems and footage shows a clearly distressed whale being held down by several men so it could be treated. As in Orlando, it was the best trainer who succumbed and his mother, Mercedes, recalls the park authorities telling her that there was nothing they could have done. Yet, when Estefania was told about the incident, she was reassured that everything was okay. Instead, she had to go to the morgue and see that Alexis's chest had burst open with the impact of the attack.

Dave Duffus is certain that SeaWorld was responsible for the trainers at Loro Parque, even though it had no commercial interest in the company. Yet, when Kelly Clark was questioned on oath by OSHA, she denied any culpability and Cowperthwaite boldly dissolves from the blank-faced line drawing of the reconstruction to the real Clark emerging from the hearing. On the soundtrack, Duffus avers that if she didn't know about the SeaWorld link to Loro Parque, she should have done. But his suspicion is that she is lying and it does seem as though the curse of Tilikum's genes is very real.

John Jett explains that he knew by now that it would only be a matter of time before Tilikum attacked once more. Garrett and Berg explain how the show on 24 February 2010 had not gone well, as the whales were refusing to co-operate and Blancheau decided to perform a few additional behaviours in her Dine With Shamu segment to give the audience better value for their money. At first, Tilikum seemed to be enjoying himself. But he failed to hear a whistle at the end of a perimeter pec wave and went round a second time. When he came to the pool edge to collect his reward for doing a good job, Blancheau sent him away with nothing for ignoring his cue. Suddenly frustrated at being short-changed and aware from the sound of the ice in the fish bucket that supplies were running low, Tilikum seemed to switch off and his resentment grew as Blancheau pushed him into doing more tricks.

As Blancheau entered the water to enjoy some quiet time with Tilikum before his big finale, he seemed to lose his temper and grabbed her arm and rolled her over and mutilated her on taking her below the surface. He refused to relinquish her body after the attack and a shocking list of injuries are catalogued on screen from the autopsy report. When he was asked in court what lessons had been learned between Tilikum's first assault and this one, Duffus said he was pretty sure the answer was `none'. But what appalled him most about this tragedy was the way SeaWorld tried to avoid taking any responsibility for it. Initially, they informed the police that a trainer had slipped into the pool and drowned. When eyewitness reports contradicted this version of events, the PR machine kicked in and seized upon the fact that Brancheau's long hair had been loose in a ponytail and that she only had herself to blame for  Tilikum grabbing it .Former executive Thad Lacinak spouted this story on ABC News and Brancheau's friends were furious when one of her spotters confirmed it.

This unnamed individual (although he is shown on screen) was criticised by the OSHA during the trial. But Simmons suggests on camera that the arm grab was playful rather than aggressive and that captivity does not send whales insane. SeaWorld's expert witness, Jeff Andrews, said much the same thing on oath and he is outed here with a freeze frame, as he leaves the courtroom. Morino insists that all whales held in such confined spaces are potentially ticking time bombs and Jett disagrees profoundly with Simmons's contention that water parks are vital to raising public consciousness about marine conservation issues. Indeed, he even goes so far as to call them evil places.

Eric Walters cries as he states that Tilikum kills because he has no outlet for his frustrations and Jett confirms that he spends long periods alone, with one clip seeming to show that he remained motionless in the same point in the pool for three hours. All he does now is the big splash finale and it is clear from the footage that his dorsal fin is hideously deformed and that he seems to be going through the motions. Over images of the Free Tilly campaign, Duffus proclaims it a tragic state of affairs and Berg and her fellow born-again trainers do the rounds of news bulletins calling for the end of such barbaric practices. 

On 30 May 2012, Judge Welsch made a number of recommendations, including one that all trainers had to remain behind a barrier away from the orcas. But SeaWorld appealed his findings and it remains open for business, as before. As the film ends, Ray, Berg, Ventre and Gommersall take a boat trip to see whales in the wild, where they should be, and any viewer who isn't left with a profound sense of outrage either has a vested interest in a water park or an incurably hard heart.

There is little left to say at the end of this emotionally draining film. Cowperthwaite (an experienced producer of small-screen wildlife documentaries) and co-scenarist Eli B. Despres lay out their case with a simplicity and clarify that is supporting by admirable restraint and a devastating sense of authority. It might have been useful to have had more dissenting voices on hand, as Simmons lacks charisma and conviction. Moreover, it is never made clear what (if any) scientific contributions aqua centres make along the lines of zoos. But Garrett and Duffus do such a good job deflating any theories that would have been advanced that it is hard to say how useful such a pro-park contribution would have been. Furthermore, the sheer weight of evidence provided by so many disillusioned, angry and self-recriminating ex-employees is overwhelmingly damning and it is difficult not to draw the conclusion that the marine entertainment industry is willing to disregard humane treatment to make a blood-stained buck.