Boxing movies haven't changed much since Wallace Beery won an Oscar for his performance as an ageing pug on the skids in King Vidor's The Champ (1931). So, it's hardly surprising to hear echoes of the past coming through  as loudly and clearly as a ringside bell in Paddy Considine's Journeyman. Anyone familiar with the genre will recognise traits borrowed from Robert Ryan in Robert Wise's The Set-Up (1949), Stacy Keach in John Huston's Fat City (1972), Hilary Swank in Clint Eastwood's Million Dollar Baby (2004), Jake Gyllenhaal in Antoine Fuqua's Southpaw (2015) and Johnny Harris in Thomas Q. Napper's Jawbone (2017). But, in returning to the director's chair for the first time since he debuted with Tyrannosaur (2011), Considine reveals an obvious affinity with a sport whose risks keep undercutting its romance.

World champion Paddy Considine might have recently lost his father and loyal cornerman, but he also has a new daughter with wife Jodie Whittaker and has no fears in facing motor-mouthed contender Anthony Welsh. He hijacks the pre-bout press conference with snide remarks about Considine having taken the title by default and promises to take his head off when they meet in a few days time. Squaring up to his opponent, but retaining his composure, Considine winks at the worried Whittaker on the front row of the journalists, as Welsh hisses about the life-changing contest and how much he looks forward to dancing on Considine's grave.

Completing his training with Paul Popplewell and Tony Pitts, Considine spends quality time with his baby before leaving for the venue. Whittaker urges him to knock Welsh out quickly, but it's clear he is a fearsome opponent and, even though Considine promises to return as the champ, there is more than a little trepidation behind his reassuring smile. He remains quiet in the dressing-room, as he tucks a photo of wife and daughter into his boot and threads his bootlace through his wedding ring. Considine even has his daughter's name on the waistband of his shorts, as he enters the ring to a cacophonous reception from the crowd and some last-minute baiting from Welsh.

The fight is cut in such a way to limit the amount of physical punishment being given and taken and the longest shots linger on Considine recovering between rounds in his corner. At one point, he puts Welsh on the floor and he seems in control. But a couple of shots get through and he sustains a cut over his right eye. One or two other blows bring him up short and slow-motion spittle arcs out of his mouth, as his head jolts to the side. Yet, when the judges announce their decision, Considine retains his title and he returns home for Whittake to put the belt back on the mantelpiece and make him a cup of sweet tea.

While she is in the kitchen, however, Considine feels a sharp pain on his right temple and he slumps forward on to the coffee table. As Whittaker rushes in to cradle him and call for an ambulance, Considine feels as though he is out for the count on the canvas (although it's not sure if this happened in the fight or whether this is just the sensation washing over him as he slips into unconsciousness).

He is next seen sitting on the edge of a hospital bed with a shaved patch on the right-hand side of his head. Whittaker has to dress him alone and struggle to support him to the car (which seems highly unlikely given he has suffered some sort of brain trauma and would clearly be receiving specialist treatment as a world champion). She accompanies him to his physiotherapy sessions and holds his hand as they sleep. Despite everything, she also manages a smile when she finds Considine hitting a punching ball with his belt over his arm and he insists he is getting ready to fight that black bloke. Moreover, she makes love with him when he becomes aroused while looking at old photographs (rather oddly including ones of his father and their daughter) on her laptop. But she is aware that much has changed, as his hands stroke her back with a sense of unfamiliarity.

Puzzled as to why the friends from his boxing photographs haven't come to see him, Considine goes to visit his father's grave and has his hair cut. They bump into Pitts, who promises to take him to the gym some time soon. But, while he seems harmless, as he mumbles and shuffles around, Considine keeps lashing out at Whittaker when she reminds him to boil the water before making a cup of tea and snaps that she is too busy with the washing to attend to his every need. Yet she recognises how vulnerable he is when he wets himself and has to be helped upstairs to change.

Having rewatched the fight and Considine's ringside interview with Steve Bunce, Whittaker whispers a pillow talk plea for her husband to come back to her, as she feels so alone. But she gets a fresh inkling on the gravity of her situation the next day when Considine puts the crying infant in the washing machine because she is making too much noise while Whittaker is upstairs hoovering. Appalled, Whittaker bundles the baby into the car and she drives off, leaving Considine to his own devices. He manages to make a cup of tea. But, when he looks for the photos on the laptop, he sees footage of the fight and is so troubled by flashbacks he doesn't understand that he punches the framed pictures on the wall and takes his belt to jump off a bridge into the river.

While underwater, Considine appears to have recollections of his wedding day and precious moments with a pregnant Whittaker and his newborn child. Thus, when he pulls himself out of the water, he staggers to the gym and Pitts rushes him to hospital. Sitting beside his bed, Pitts weeps because he doesn't know what to do to help his mate and fetches Popplewell from the building site where he is working to rally round Whittaker. However, she stays away, while Pitts tries to keep Considine occupied doing some pad work at the gym and Popplewell takes him out for fresh air. He misses her and wants her to know that he is doing his best and his pals reassure him that she will come home when she's ready.

A physio montage follows, as Considine works hard to recover his co-ordination and basic movement. Pitts and Popplewell are never far from his side and Welsh even comes to the house to offer his apologies for what happened and admit to being ashamed of the way in which he had shot his mouth off. But Considine only has the vaguest memories of him and is polite, but confused during their conversation. He also struggles to remember what he had planned to say when Whittaker phones to check up on him and he begs her to come home, as he is doing everything he can to return to normal. Tears trickle down both their cheeks as she hangs up, but she knows things will need to change before she can go home.

While Whittaker pushes a pram on the beach and sees a happy family in the distance, Considine gets spruced up for a benefit night. He suddenly seems more eloquent and aware than he has been since the night his world was turned upside down. Thus, he is able to tell Bunce and the audience that he doesn't blame Welsh or boxing for what happened to him. He also thanks Pitts and Popplewell for not abandoning him and hopes that his wife and daughter will soon be back in his life. Unsurprisingly, as he poses for selfies with fans, Considine is joined by Whittaker in a posh frock and he remembers to call her the love of his life before they dance together under the benevolent beams of Pitts, Popplewell and Welsh.

Back to somewhere near his best, Considine starts coaching kids at the gym. Whittaker clears out the garage and finds his kit bag from the night of the fight. She is touched to find the snapshot of in his boot (as if she never knew he has this superstition) and she goes to the gym to bring her husband home. Things may not be the same, but she knows he won't be taking any more punches and stands a chance of improving over time.

It's unfortunate that this sincere picture should appear in cinemas the week that Dale Evans has elected to speak about the fatal brain injuries suffered by  Mike Towell during their British welterweight title eliminator in 2016. Indeed, his heartfelt words make a mockery of the glib speech that Considine delivers at the charity dinner in his honour about his injuries having nothing to do with the noble art of boxing. But everything about the final third of this increasingly glutinous saga rings hollow, as Popplewell and Pitts suddenly come out of the woods to help their old mucker when Whittaker disappears without making any effort to seek medical assistance for her clearly stricken spouse.

Such slapdash plotting is compounded by the fact that Considine suggests no sense of timescale, as the slight change in his growing daughter makes his `recovery' seem remarkably speedy rather than slow and painful. He also appears to spend all of his time being attended by physios and never once makes a return visit to the neurosurgeon who presumably left the neat little scar on the side of his skull. And isn't he world champion rather than the journeyman cited in the title? Wouldn't he, therefore, have a manager or a promoter to provide him with some home care until he receives an insurance payout? Surely Whittaker wouldn't be left to cope on her own and where does Popplewell suddenly get all that spare time to keep an eye on his buddy when he had been forced to find work as a builder to make ends meet after the fateful fight?

Considine creates two characters here - the quietly confident middleweight and the stranded man-child. There are flashes of uncertainty in his eyes before the bout, but they are replaced by unknowingness when the world becomes so unfamiliar that he barely recognises the face he is shaving. The stares and silences are affecting, as is the barber shop remembrance that Muhammad Ali was the greatest fighter of all time because his achievements also came at a terrifying price. But the notion that it takes a second brush with death to teach Considine where his priorities lie is utterly bogus, as he is demonstrably a devoted family man before his accident.

Skilled though Considine's portrayal is, however, keeping the focus so resolutely on his ordeal means that Whittaker becomes increasingly marginalised. She seems to have no family and friends to call on for support and the failure to explain where she has gone reduces her plight to a mere dramatic convenience that allows Pitts and Popplewell back into the picture. Her decision to return in the glare of the spotlight is equally specious, as she has always maintained a low profile and would have wanted to reconnect with her husband in the privacy of their own home. Moreover, the idea that someone who has been through hell as a result of a boxing injury would find redemption preparing kids to dice with the same potential fate seems irresponsible. Yet it also seems in keeping with the ethos of a sport in which the trade off between success and disaster is viewed as an acceptable risk.

Notwithstanding these glitches, Considine works hard to convey the debilitating effects of his injuries. Yet, despite the whippet-trim torso, he often looks the 44 years that make him far too old to play a credible world champion. Whittaker makes the most of an underwritten role, but her decision to flee feels as contrived as Welsh's pre-fight boasts. Production designer Simon Rogers, cinematographer Laurie Rose, composer Harry Escott and editor Pia di Ciaula all make solid contributions, with the latter deftly subverting the clichéd training montage with the rehab sequences. But, too much of the meticulous care that Considine puts into his performance is missing from his writing and direction, with the result that feels more like a deeply personal showcase than an authentic slice of sporting realism.

Although there have been plenty of films about women dealing with bereavement, those tackling the pain of loss from a male perspective have been far fewer and less convincing. Among the best examples of recent times are Nanni Moretti's The Son's Room (2002), Tom Ford's A Single Man (2009) and Niall Johnson's Mum's List (2016), which respectively focus on a grieving father, a gay lover and a young husband. Joining this list is Kurt Voelker's The Bachelors, which is too superficial to examine the psychological strain of mourning in any detail. Yet, while it often feels like a TV-movie, this sincere and admirably acted drama still manages to make an emotional impact.

Bereft after his painter wife of 33 years dies 61 days after being diagnosed with cancer, JK Simmons wakes teenage son Josh Wiggins in the middle of the night and informs him that he can no longer bear living in the family home in San Francisco and has accepted a maths teaching post at the Los Angeles school run by his old college friend, Kevin Dunn. Loading everything into a U-Haul, the pair settle into a rented house and Simmons gives Wiggins his car, as he plans to cycle to work. But, while Simmons quickly gets used to the idea of teaching at a private boys' school, Wiggins struggles to cope with the demands of cross-country running and the teasing of bully Charlie DePew, who not only despises Wiggins's new friends, Tyrel Jackson Williams and Jae Head, but also hits on the girls from the nearby Cavalcade Academy who come to the campus for extra tuition.

One of the shared subjects is French and tutor Julie Delpy soon realises that Wiggins is sufficiently fluent to offer struggling classmate Odeya Rush some much-needed assistance. Similarly, Dunn suggests that Simmons would benefit from seeing psychiatrist Harold Perrineau and he recommends medication that will help bring Simmons out of his crushing sense of despondency. However, he spends his evenings gazing at his wife's best painting, while Wiggins watches videos of her (Kimberly Crandall) on his phone and Rush cuts herself with a razor blade to ease strain of living with demanding parents Jean Louisa Kelly and Tom Amandes.

Even Delpy has problems, as coach Michael McGlone keeps flirting with her and she forges an alliance of convenience with Simmons to keep him at arm's length. However, she tries to befriend Rush, who suspects that her kindness is due to the fact that Wiggins had seen a bloodstain on her blouse. He swears that he had kept his word to tell no one and gets teased by Rush's younger sister, Kitana Turnbull, when she throws him out of her bedroom during a study session.

Wiggins is confused by Rush, as he has spotted her disappearing into the bushes with DePew at a party. But he gets an insight into her situation when he stays to supper and witnesses Kelly and Amandes bickering. Consequently, when DePew taunts him in the canteen about hanging around with such a pushover, Wiggins belts him over the head with a tray and is threatened with expulsion by Dunn after the fracas gets out of control.

Meanwhile, Perrineau urges Simmons to find a way of weaning himself off his grief and start living again and a chance comes when Delpy asks him to dinner to give her an excuse for turning down a date with McGlone. They have a nice evening and Simmons and Wiggins have a catch-up chat in the kitchen after he gets home. Wiggins also starts spending more time with Rush, who buys him a passenger seat for his car. However, it turns out to be a driver's seat and he fits it backwards so that Rush and Turnbull can play hand-clapping games together when they go out for a drive. She also comes to watch him do litter patrol as part of his punishment for the fight and even agrees to attend a birthday party that Dunn is throwing for Simmons.

Delpy is also among the guests and she sides with Rush and Dunn's wife,
Jacqueline Mazarella, in asserting that men don't like strong women. Mazarella tells a story about Crandall giving a Neanderthal a tough time at a bar and Delpy compliments Simmons on having found such a wonderful partner. They wind up in bed together, while Rush persuades Wiggins to take things slowly after he tries to kiss her while they park beside a lake. But, while he agrees to her suggestion, Simmons feels guilty about betraying the memory of his wife and Perrineau suggests that he needs to forgive himself for surviving and needing to move on.

Everything seems to be going well. But Rush is so upset by a blazing row between her parents that she goes drinking with DePew and his pals. However, she comes to her senses and calls Delpy to pick her up and she implores her to respect herself. Unfortunately, Wiggins finds out about the tryst and Rush slaps his face when he accuses her of being easy. Shortly afterwards, Simmons admits to Delpy that he is not ready for a relationship and collapses in front of his class and Perrineau tells Dunn that he has suffered a nervous breakdown and will continue to decline unless he breaks the cycle of grief. He suggests trying electro-convulsive therapy and going to group sessions. But Wiggins is growing tired with his father's condition and confides to Dunn that he doesn't think he wants to get well, as he is more concerned with his lost wife than his living son.

While Simmons endures his therapy, Dunn tells Wiggins that the secret to cross-country running is to find a way of bursting through the pain barrier. Thus, after pleading with Simmons to snap out of it and stop drifting away from him, Wiggins wins a major race while his father goes through Crandall's belongings and gives them all away, apart from a box of personal items with special associations. He arrives in time to give his son an apology and a hug at the finish line before Wiggins goes off to show Rush his medal. She has passed French without his help and is keen to give things another try. As is Delpy with Simmons and the film ends with everyone eating ice-cream while driving in an open-top car along a winding coastal road.

There are several glitches in the screenplay that prevent this well-meaning picture from getting to the crux of its matter. Why is no mention made of the fact that Simmons and Crandall were together for over three decades and yet only had one 17 year-old son? If Dunn is such a close friend (who even dated Crandall before Simmons stole her heart), how come Wiggins has never heard of him? And if Delpy is so sensitive to Simmons's feelings, why does she strip off in his bedroom after the birthday party when so much of the evening's conversation had revolved around his late wife?

Other niggles involving Rush's relationships with her parents and DePew tip the balance towards further towards tele-melodrama. But the real problem lies with Voelker's reluctance to discuss the trauma of loss in worthwhile depth. Simmons does a fine job of conveying the emptiness he experiences without his irreplaceable soulmate (even though the clips on Wiggins's phone suggest that Crandall was more than charmingly normal than vivaciously exceptional), but his sessions with Perrineau are so flatly written and so devoid of either emotional heft or medical insight that one is left to question the jargon-spouting shrink's haphazard methods.

Antonio Riestra's photography is equally uninspired, while composer Joel P. West drizzles sentiment over almost every scene. Yet it's impossible not to root for Simmons and Delpy and for Wiggins and Rush, as they commit so wholeheartedly to their roles. So, in spite of the cringingly cosy conclusion and all that cornball symbolism about a passenger seat facing the road that's been travelled rather than the way ahead, this will justify its release if it helps anyone suffering find some solace and inspiration.

Landmarks are few and far between in this history of Faroese cinema. Since East German Otto Meyer filmed Shadow Over the Islands in 1952, the most significant occurrences have been the emergence of local director Katrin Ottarsdóttir with Atlantic Rhapsody (1989) and Dane Nils Malmros's 1997 adaptation of Barbara, the best-known work by national literary treasure, Jørgen-Frantz Jacobsen. However, documentarist Mike Day looks set to put the Faroe Islands on the movie map in the most contentious way possible with The Islands & the Whales, an uncompromising study of vanishing traditions, cultural identity, rising ecological concerns and the links between pollution and health that contains echoes of Robert Flaherty's Man of Aran (1934) and Sarah Gavron's Village At the End of the World (2012), as well as Day's own 2010 outing, The Guga Hunters of Ness.

Day plunges the viewer directly into the reality of life on the Faroes by following dramatic aerial views of the islands jutting out of the North Atlantic with scenes of residents catching birds on a cliff ledge and rushing down to the shore to turn the water red as they slaughter the pilot whales that have been driven into the bay by a small flotilla of boats. Tempering the horror of `the grind', a male voice waxes lyrical about the Huldufólk encountered by the first settlers, who quickly realised that they would have to hunt in order to survive on inhospitable rocks that precluded the cultivation of crops. Moreover, to offset the casual way in which fisherman Bárðar Isaksen and buddy Bjarti Petersen net and throttle birds out at sea, he is shown putting food on the table for his adorable daughters, who are amused by him inflating some rubber gloves.

The communal nature of hunting is further emphasised by a nocturnal sequence in which men of all ages rope themselves together to lower the fittest down the side of a lighthouse ridge to help themselves to the gannets and fulmars nesting in the nooks and crannies below. It's perilous work and the sense of shared danger brings the menfolk together, as does the ceremonial sharing out of whale meat on the quayside, which is accompanied by traditional songs and dances that are known by all of the 48,000 hardy souls who occupy the islands.

Yet, while young children tuck into plates of whale meat, Dr Pál Weihe reveals that he has detected growing levels of mercury in the whale, fish and bird stocks that are pivotal to the Faroese diet. Ornithologist and taxidermist Jens-Kjeld Jensen has also noticed an increase in the amount of plastic found in the stomachs of the puffins he studies. Following shots of children being monitored at a clinic, we see a crew head out to sea and skipper Esbern Í Eyðansstovu reveals that nobody goes searching for the whales, as they are so elusive that they are usually spotted by fishermen after other quarry. He recalls the noisy frenzy of villagers scrambling to reach their boats before mobile phones and linking tunnels made it easier for whalers to communicate and launch their vessels.

Such progress has come at a price, however, as the Huldufólk expert laments the fact that modern hunters have lost sight of the respect for nature that their ancestors learned from their mythical guides. Consequently, they no longer operate on a sustainable basis and the fragile eco-economic balance has been placed in jeopardy. Weihe finds it difficult telling patients that the whale meat they enjoy so much is harming them because he knows how central hunting is to the local sense of self-worth. This is readily evident as Isaksen and his neighbours speed to the bay where 50-100 pilot whales have been driven inshore by dozens of small boats. But it's also easy to detect a distasteful machismo in the way in which men brandishing knives and small spears wade into the water to attack the helpless mammals and then stand over their trophies with blood-spattered faces.

Weihe goes on a radio show to discuss the health risks of eating whales and accuses the outside world of betraying the Faroese by polluting the waters they have fished for centuries. Yet, while he mentions diseases like Parkinson's, Isaksen refuses to be dictated to and gives his daughters blubber, while his nurse partner, Elsa Bjørg Jógvansdóttir, keeps eating whale meat while breast-feeding her newborn baby. Isaksen also continues to hunt birds, even though Jensen is worried about declining puffin numbers, as the drastic decrease in plankton has killed off the sand eels on which the birds live. He predicts that the population will die out over the next 20 years because breeding levels have dropped and his dismay is echoed by the Huldufólk specialist, who claims that they have fled to the mist-shrouded hills because they want nothing to do with the humans who have ruined the landscape.

A traditional boat is rowed across the harbour as giant container ships dock in the port. Isaksen goes shopping in the well-stocked supermarket and one is left to wonder why the islanders need to keep killing whales and birds when no money changes hands during the share-out and a growing number of residents can't get time off from their jobs to joint the hunts. His father remembers how self-reliant everyone used to be before the first main roads were built in the 1950s and how nothing went to waste. But, while many things have changed beyond recognition, people continue to eat traditional foods, even though Weihe keeps warning them of the toxic threat they pose to the well-being of the entire population.

The Sea Shepherds environmental group pays a visit to the island with actress Pamela Anderson as its figurehead. However, the locals have nothing but contempt to what they see as hypocritical do-gooders, who would rather they imported foodstuffs from the other side of the world than catch indigenous produce. One man is particularly scathing of their grasp of the situation at a press conference and his pals concur afterwards that the mission has merely convinced the Faroese that they are being victimised by cultural imperialists attempting to remote control them from New York, Paris and London.

The Isaksens get their test results and Weihe informs them that father and daughters are over the limits for their age range. But Bárðar is in no mood to listen and joins his father in insisting that he shall continue to consume what he wants in quantities that suit him. He watches TV news coverage of a standoff between whalers and Sea Shepherds and shrugs when the report suggests that upholding such traditions is doing little for the Faroese image abroad.

Having attended an outdoor rock concert in the pouring rain, Petersen goes out shooting guillemots in his boat and captures one alive for Jensen to ring, so they can keep track of it. He bemoans the fact that the population has declined by around from 400,000 to 80,000 pairs during his lifetime and reminds Petersen that they can't breed if he goes round killing them. It's revealed that the person who has been talking about the Huldufólk is Isaksen's father (Kristian Justinussen?) and he is saddened by the fact that electricity has driven them away because full darkness no longer envelopes the Faroes because of light bulbs. He says he would prefer to believe them than scientists, but Elsa is concerned by Weihe's findings and hopes to try and convince her partner to eat less whale meat.

As he leaves for a traditional gathering in the town, Weihe shows the camera what he fears are bullet holes in the side of his car. He insists he has a duty to warn people of the risks they are taking and his bid finds echo in an old myth about a tall stranger attending a ring dance. The locals wondered who the outsider could be and attempted to follow him home. But he disappeared and they were left to wonder whether he was a member of the Huldufólk with an important message they will now never get to hear.

Neatly summarising the current situation on the Faroes, this fable also typifies Mike Day's effort to remain as impartial as possible in his depiction of daily life in a remote community that is made to seem even more insular by the clouds that cocoon it from the outside world. Few will be able to watch the brutality of the hunting sequences without some sense of revulsion and/or outrage. But Day is not seeking to do the Sea Shepherd's job for them and, in this regard, his film differs greatly from Elise Coker and Ed Ou's Inside the Grind (2015) and Ross McCall's The Grind (2016). Instead, he seeks to explore how an ancient lifestyle has been compromised by changing attitudes to animal welfare and the conservation of our fragile eco system, as well as by medical advances that can now detect the damage we can inflict upon ourselves through our dietary choices.

Fascinatingly, there is little evidence of obesity in Day's footage. But there seems to be something fat-headed about the determination to resist medical advice on the grounds of socio-cultural independence. A goodly degree of male chauvinism also impinges upon the situation, as, even though Elsa is a nurse who works with Weihe, she appears to have less say in what she serves at her own table than her huntsman partner. That said, the patriotic resolution to resist outside interference holds across genders and ages and it's hard not to find the Faroese sense of communality touching. One can but hope that Day decides to revisit the islands in a decade's time to see how everyone is getting on.

Shooting for 53 days over four years, Day certainly has an eye for a striking image. He and sound designer Christopher Barnett also make evocative use of the audio captured with cutting-edge tetrahedral microphones to produce a multi-directional ambsionic soundscape that is neatly complemented by Antony Partos and Mike Sheridan's score. Yet, while Day has a keen sense of place, a caption or two might have helped establish some geographical specificity. It also seems a shame that the participants are not identified on screen, as their anonymity occasionally makes their profiling feel a little intrusive. But Day leaves viewers with plenty to think about their own eating habits and the extent to which we know surprisingly little about what we trustingly put into our bodies.

The passing of the doyen of surfing movies last December has left a void in a cult genre that has all-too-rarely visited the British Isles. Nevertheless, the spirit of Bruce Brown rolled through James Dean and Matt Crocker's The Endless Winter: A Very British Surf Movie (2012) and it's also evident in Ross Whitaker's Between Land and Sea, which follows Joel Conroy's Waveriders (2008) and Jonny MacCann's Winter Tides (2017) in celebrating the Irish surfing scene.

The Atlantic coast off Lahinch in County Clare is spectacularly wild and Whitaker opens his documentary with some majestic views of the cliffs and breakers of Liscannor Bay under a wintry sky. Mining engineer Tom Doidge-Harrison was enchanted the first time he came west and he now seeks lucrative short-term contracts so he can divide his time between Spanish wife Raquel Ruido Rodriguez and their daughter Nora and customising boards for his fellow surfers. Among them is Fergal Smith, a Mayo native who got to tour the world riding the waves before settling in Lahinch to grow vegetables in a rented field with his wife Sally while he weighs up his options.

Lahincher Ollie O'Flaherty is still hoping to live the dream and secure the kind of sponsorship deals that would enable him to test himself on the world's most famous surfing beaches. But, for now, he hones his skills on the local waves, although they can get ferocious, as Dexter McCullough discovered when his surfing school fell victim to the storms that caused €23 million-worth of damage along the Clare coast. Nevertheless, he still keeps parking his van on the seafront in the hope of selling a wetsuit or board to the hardier souls who brave the water before Easter.

While Ruido Rodriguez makes soaps to sell to the tourists, Doidge-Harrison repairs a board and wonders how many more times he will get to experience the rush of riding beneath the Cliffs of Moher. O'Flaherty describes how the spot need to be respected and Whitaker captures some thrilling footage of surfers paddling out from the rocks to take on the towering waves. One rider wipes out in the foamy white water, but bobs back up to try again. But not everyone is a daredevil, as 60 year-old Pat Conway is content to put in some practice before the annual charity swim. 

As Good Friday arrives and Lahinch is glistening from a fresh coat of paint, McCullough resumes his friendly rivalry with fellow surf coaches John McCarthy and Ben Bennett. O'Flaherty works for the latter and a sunny day brings out the novices in their droves under the watchful eye of daytrippers licking ice creams on the promenade. It's a wonderful scene and the 40 year-old McCarthy sighs as he accepts that his best days are probably behind him. But, as with Smith, he realises that priorities have to change when families come along and he now views the weather forecast with the eyes of a businessman rather than an athlete.

Doidge-Harrison is keen to get out there and lets his daughter help him load the car. He is wearing an inflatable gillet to cope with the buffeting he expects from Aileens and he picks his way down a winding cliff path to push off from a rocky outcrop. While he starts putting together some runs, he is joined by O'Flaherty and iconic Hawaiian surfer Shane Dorian, who stars in a montage of smooth rides through tight rollers.

With Doidge-Harrison pleased to still have something to offer, Dorian and O'Flaherty move on to Rileys, The water is wilder and the underside of the grey-blue pipes turns green as they hurtle towards the shore. Water and jet skiers add to the sense of exhilaration, as O'Flaherty gets to show one of the world's best surfers the jewel of his patch. Away from the water, Smith discovers that the owners of the field he's farming want it back and he vows to find a plot of his own because he has found a new métier and he wants to focus his energies on it.

Doidge-Harrison is also building stone walls and making plans for an extension, while he prepares to become a father for the second time. He has hardly had time to surf and has to leave it to the likes of O'Flaherty, who is mentoring younger talents like Dylan Noonan in the hope that Lahinch can produce a champion. But he also has work to do once the summer holidays begin, as this is the time the residents make their big money, as the golfers and surfers turn up in their droves. This year, however, it's wild and windy and the surf schools are struggling with bookings, as everyone scurries around with their anorak hoods up.

Things are looking up for the Smiths, however, as they has found some land and have decided to built a yurt that can be moved to avoid having to apply for planning permission. Conway is also keeping himself busy, as he goes from door to door seeking sponsorship for his swim to the Aran Islands. He describes his two ill-fated attempts on the English Channel and how close he came the second time. But he has been doing this charity swim for 43 years and is intent on making it to the 50th anniversary, especially as a good crowd turns out to cheer him on.

As the season draws to a close, McCullough frets about a 40% drop in July takings and the problems this will bring over the winter. Doidge-Harrison also has to get used to the fact that his daughter is starting school and won't be around all day. But September and October tends to produce the best waves for experienced surfers and Smith seizes his opportunity to reacquaint himself with the Atlantic, while O'Flaherty becomes a little introspective and wonders what the future will hold, as he can't be a surfer dude forever.

By contrast, McCarthy feels rejuvenated after devoting a few years to his children and he takes to the local swimming pool to build up his fitness prior to taking on some big breakers. He reveals that he was making his way on the professional circuit when he suddenly felt alone during a stay in Australia and found Jesus. Now, he regards surfing as a gift he should use to give praise and feels more appreciative of opportunities like a return to the Cliffs of Moher, where he prays on his board and has one of the best rides of his life.

Needing to clear his land of tree stumps and battling to prevent his crops from being flooded during a prolonged period of inclement weather, Smith is finding things more difficult. McCullough is also feeling the pinch after the autumn season is wiped out. But he rallies when O'Flaherty suggests they concentrate on advanced students rather than beginners and overcome Ireland's `mediocrity complex' to make Lahinch a world-class surfing centre. He celebrates Christmas by riding some waves, while Conway joins in the annual mass dip on the beach. Even Smith becomes more optimistic after planting some garlic, while Doidge-Harrison welcomes his new son, Justin. Thus, s another year begins, Lahinch seems a marvellous place to be.

And that's the point of this highly enjoyable film. But, while the County Clare tourist board will undoubtedly be delighted by Whitaker's paean to the rugged coastline and the genial hospitality of the locals, he also makes some serious points about the west coast economy and the struggle that individuals primed to focus on their own performance often have to acclimatise to everyday living when the glory days are over. Not everyone is going to be able to keep jet-setting like Shane Dorian. So, Smith's farming ambitions are anything but a beach bum's whim and it's fascinating to discover online that he has since run for the Dáil Éireann as a Green Party candidate.

Having found their own ways to resolve the duty-pleasure dilemma, McCarthy, McCullough, O'Flaherty and Doidge-Harrison also seem to have their feet firmly on the ground after their exploits on their boards. Yet, while the human interest aspects are intriguing, it's the surfing that will live longest in the memory. Whitaker's seascapes are wonderfully atmospheric, but Kevin L. Smith's aerial and underwater photography is outstanding and their images are kinetically edited by Andrew Hearne to the rousing strains of Michael Fleming's score. One suspects Bruce Brown would approve.