Parky at the Pictures (In Cinemas 7/9/2017)

With her husband away, Oum Yazan (Hiam Abbass) is sheltering daughters Yara (Alissar Kaghadou) and Aliya (Ninar Halabi), son Yazan (Mohammad Jihad Sleik), father-in-law Mustafa (Mohsen Abbas) and Yara's boyfriend, Kareem (Elias Khatter), in her first-floor Damascus apartment. Indian maid Delhani (Juliette Navis) is also helping care for bombed-out neighbours Samir (Moustapha Al Kar) and Halima (Diamand Abou Abboud), who is nursing her first child. As the white-bearded Mustafa watches a scuffle on the street before slumping on the sofa in despair, the camera roves around a spacious room lined with books. Delhani has to wash in a bowl as the water is off, but she helps Samir with the wooden bars across the door, as he slips out to meet with the foreign journalist who can smuggle his family into Lebanon.

Sipping coffee, Delhani looks out of the window as Samir scuttles across the courtyard and is horrified when she sees him felled by a sniper. She rushes to wake Oum Yazan, who tells her that there is nothing they can do for him and orders her to say nothing to Halima. As everyone gets up and queues for the bathroom, Delhani tries not to look at herself in the mirror while doing her chores and curses Oum Yazan for always needing to be in control when she sends her downstairs to fetch water in a bucket.

The sound of shelling drives Yara and Aliya in from the balcony, as Halima sneaks upstairs to find some powdered milk in the rubble of her flat. She tells Oum Yazan about the plan to leave and thanks her for protecting them, while admitting that she had initially been intimidated by her. Unsmilingly, Oum Yazan puts a hand on her shoulder and commends her neighbour's courage before returning to the kitchen to make breakfast. Yazan shares a bite with his grandfather before bursting in on Yara and Kareem, who are canoodling on her bed.

But there is no room for cosy domesticity as a rocket explodes outside and Oum Yazan ushers her charges into the kitchen. Halima is upset because she has been burgled, but Oum Yazan is more concerned that Aliya has wasted water by washing her hair. They try to sing to keep up their spirits, but Dalhani is unable to control her emotions and she rushes out with a hand over her mouth. As silence descends, the baby starts crying and Halima takes him to her room. Delhani asks Oum Yazan when she can leave, as she has a son back home to think about and doesn't want to die in a war zone. When, Oum Yazan urges her to remember her place, she confides in Mustafa, who also tells her to keep her secret before lighting a cigarette and trying to remain calm while sitting in a chair facing his beloved books.

He lets Oum Yazan know with a look that he has heard about Samir and she is angry with Delhani for blabbing. However, a near miss sends everyone scrambling for cover and Oum Yazan is trying to reassure her children when she hears a knocking at the door. Through the spyhole, she sees three men asking if she is okay. She sends them away, but is nervous that they are up to no good.

Kareem manages to pick up a radio broadcast on a laptop and Oum Yazan is furious that her district is under siege when she has worked so hard to make a nice home for her children. She browbeats Kareem for having risked his neck to visit Yara and he slopes away to seek solace with Halima, who is fretting about her son because he has become so inured to war that didn't cry when the blast erupted. He notices her suitcase and asks if she is leaving and she thanks him for looking out for her and sends him out with a tearful kiss on his lips.

Yara senses something has happened and storms away from the lunch table, as Oum Yazan and Delhani try not to catch each other's eyes as Halima calls Samir and gets no reply. They are distracted by another knock at the door and Oum Yazan tells the two men outside to leave them alone, as they are content to be the only people left in the building. When they insist they need to give the apartment a security check, she tells them to come back when her husband is home and they disappear.

However, they quickly return with the younger man (Orwa Kulthoum) breaking through the balcony window to open the door for his older, balding superior (Husam Chadat). On hearing the commotion, Oum Yazan bundles everyone into the kitchen. But Halima insists on getting her baby and is caught by the duo, as they search for valuables. Kareem wants to help Halima, but Oum Yazan hisses at him to keep quiet and they listen in horror, as the older man rapes Halima and slaps her when she struggles to protect her child from his cohort, who wants to sell it on the black market. They leave hurriedly and Mustafa ventures out to check the coast is clear. Oum Yazan puts a blanket around Halima's shoulder and brings over her crying infant. But Halima pulls away from her attempts to reassure her and she glares at Oum Yazan for sacrificing her for the safety of her own family.

As Oum Yazan sits in the dark, Delhani lights a candle and pleads with her to tell Halima about Samir. She nods and wanders into the dining-room, where she removes the tablecloth and lies on the polished wood to summon her courage. Rising, she leads Halima into the bathroom to wash, while Delhani changes the baby. When Halima has dressed, Oum Yazan takes her to one side and breaks the news and Halima has to be restrained by Kareem when she rushes to the window to see her husband's body and screams at the snipers to finish her off because she has nothing left to live for.

She is furious with Oum Yazan for not being honest with her and accuses her of being prepared to let her die to save her own skin. But, before Oum Yazan can protest, Halima rushes downstairs to recover Samir's body and Kareem and Yara accompany her. She cowers on the steps in the dusky darkness before running across the parking lot when Kareem returns with the news her husband is still alive. He carries Samir across his shoulder and lays him out on Oum Yazan's table. While she dresses his wounds, Aliya sobs on Halima's shoulder in begging for forgiveness for letting her confront the intruders alone. She strokes her hair and holds her close, as Kareem and Yara kiss in relief at having survived their ordeal in rescuing Samir.

Night falls and Oum Yazan checks on her sleeping brood. But they are woken by a rap at the door, as Ghassan (Axam Hamada) comes with two friends to take Samir to a doctor. He asks Oum Yazan if she has heard from her husband and they wonder if he has been held up by the roadblocks. Ghassan promises to take Halima to safety the next morning and he implores Oum Yazan to let her children leave the apartment before it's too late. She promises to think about it and barricades the door. As she turns, she clasps Halima's hands and orders Delhani to clean the table before sitting with her head on Mustafa's shoulder, as they worry about his missing son.

While Oum Yazan tries to sleep, she gets a phone call from her husband, who manages only to greet her before the line goes dead. But, at least, she knows he's safe and Mustafa resumes his station by the window, as the call to prayer and bird song fill the air in a rare moment of peace.

Having chosen Rwanda for his directorial debut, The Day God Walked Away (2008), Van Leeuw can't be accused of ducking the big issues and he makes a solid job of conveying how it must feel for ordinary people to be trapped inside Syria's murderous madness. Echoes of siege sagas like Saverio Costanzo's Private (2005) and Babak Anvari's Under the Shadow (2016) reverberate faintly beneath Paul Heymans and Alex Goosse's inspired sound effects and the twinkling piano and mournful strings of Jean-Luc Fafchamps's emotionally manipulative score. Indeed, there is a generic feel to the action, as Van Leeuw avoids specific references to the Syrian conflict and makes no mention of the political loyalties of Oum Yazan and her guests. All that matters is that several woman and girls, two young boys, an old man and a baby are in peril from both combatants and rogues in a lawless city where their well-being has ceased to matter. Yet, while this does nothing to diminish the intensity of the drama, it devalues its insights into this particular conflict. As always, Palestinian star Hiam Abbass impresses as the matriarch putting on a show of strength as much for herself as for her friends and family, while Juliette Navis elicits pity as the put-upon maid whose devotion to the children is rooted in a desperation to provide for her own son in India. But Lebanese actress Diamand Abou Abboud excels as the adoring wife and doting mother who endures humiliation with spirited courage in order to protect her baby and those depending upon her in the kitchen. Yet, while he raises some troubling moral quandaries, Van Leeuw undermines the realism of the situation by resorting to melodrama in order to question Abbass's tactics. Moreover, his dialogue lacks the finesse shown by cinematographer Virginie Surdej, as she lets the camera roam in long takes around Kathy Lebrun's confining and impeccably lit and decorated interiors to suggest the vulnerability of occupants who often feel more entombed than embattled.

The French set great store by school films, with François Truffaut's Small Change (1976), Bertrand Tavernier's It All Starts Today (1999) and Laurent Cantet's The Class (2008) being joined on the honours board by such inspirational documentaries as Nicolas Philibert's Être et avoir (2002) and Julie Bertucelli's School of Babel (2013). More recently, the debuting Rudi Rosenberg explored how pupils deal with the changing world in The New Kid (2015), while Isabelle Huppert excelled as a dedicated, but prickly philosophy teacher in Mia Hansen-Løve's Things to Come (2016). But, despite a solid display by Sara Forestier, Hélène Angel's Primaire struggles to prevent its authentic atmosphere being overrun by cornball melodrama.

Sara Forestier is a primary school teacher in Grenoble and she promises struggling student Tara Dechaud that no one has ever left her class without being able to read. Forestier lives in a flat above the school with 10 year-old son Albert Cousi, who claims that she never stops teaching, even when cooking. Student teacher Lucie Desclozeaux looks up to Forestier and notes the way she handles cheeky chatterers Lamine Mara and Timothée Fournier. However, their classmates are less than impressed when the ill-kempt Ghillas Bendjoudi is billeted on them and Forestier is disappointed with Cousi when he moves desks because the new boy smells.

With only two months to go before the class moves on to middle school, Forestier is determined that each child will succeed. But, as the lunch bell sounds, Cousi springs the news that father Antoine Gouy wants to take him to Java for a year. Moreover, while she is busy telling Desclozeaux about pay scales and the latest educational buzzwords, Bendjoudi gets into a fight in the canteen when the kids start to tease him and Forestier has to wrestle him to the ground to contain his fury after he pours water over the diminutive Mathieu Fizelier. Principal Patrick D'Assumçao tries to contact mother Laure Calamy, but she can't be reached and Bendjoudi has to sit and stew in the corridor outside D'Assumçao's office.

When Calamy fails to respond, D'Assumçao asks Forestier to keep an eye on Bendjoudi, who is playing with the principal's dog, Bangkok. He notices how Forestier fusses over Cousi before sending him off to a music lesson and asks if he likes barbecue crisps, as they are his favourite. He also reveals that Calamy spends long periods away from home and leaves her son money to buy food and Forestier is appalled that he has no clean clothes to wear. Thus, when Calamy's ex-boyfriend, Vincent Elbaz, comes to the school to complain that he has been bothered about Bendjoudi's behaviour, Forestier is in no mood to tolerate the courier's foul-mouthed arrogance. However, she recognises the boy's affection for Elbaz and he is allowed to take him home, even though D'Assumçao reports the case to social services.

Cousi is learning to play the French horn and he discordantly serenades Sombrero, the school rabbit in an empty classroom after hours. But he also gazes at the map of the world and fixes on Java, where his father builds huts for the poor and dispossessed. He regards him as a hero and says so during a lesson on Greek myths. But Forestier disregards his choice and plumps for Nelson Mandela as an example of a modern hero and the observing Desclozeaux smiles when she sees that Forestier has also managed to involve Hannah Brunt in the discussion, as she has learning difficulties and is supervised during lessons by classroom assistant, Guilaine Londez. Desclozeaux is also taken by the way that Forestier coaxes a sleepy-headed boy into concentrating by urging him to follow the example of David Copperfield and be the hero of his own life.

The class is rehearsing a play about the gods and Brunt is eager to participate. Forestier gives her a chance and similarly strives to find a way to help Dechaud overcome her reading difficulties by ordering an old textbook with a less complicated learning scheme. She also finds herself taking care of Bendjoudi after Elbaz fails to collect him at home time and janitor Frédéric Boismoreau needs to go to a kung-fu class. He locks himself in the bathroom and sniffs some of the clothing in the laundry basket and deliberately knocks over some of the toys in Cousi's room. However, he enjoys giving Sombrero a carrot and stands up for himself when Cousi returns from his music lesson and kicks him for being in his home. Elbaz eventually arrives and warns Forestier that Calamy is unstable and that he no longer has the time to care for Bendjoudi.

Left alone, Cousti complains to Forestier that she never has time for him and he asks to make a pupil appointment. She refuses to consider letting him live in Indonesia rather than stepping up to middle school and he declares that he will not allow her to ruin his dream. The next day, Desclozeaux's ambitions receive a setback when she becomes intimidated during a maths lesson and confides in Forestier that she has realised she is not cut out to become a teacher. Forestier tries to reassure her, but she is distracted by the fact that Bendjoudi came to her classroom during a lesson just to say hello and she wonders whether he is forming an unhealthy attachment to her.

The day keeps getting worse, however, as a dress rehearsal for the play descends into chaos and Forestier then learns that she is about to be inspected by the draconian Hervé Caullery. When she finally gets home, she finds Cousi and classmate Jules Gaborlau playing a violent video game and is then embarrassed when Elbaz forces Bendjoudi to return a stolen item of clothing. The boys fight over the video game and Forestier sends them off to play when she tips a bowl of crepe batter over Elbaz's jeans and she becomes so flustered in trying to make amends that she winds up kissing him. Meanwhile, Cousi and Bendjoudi have gone charging through the empty school shouting about their awful mothers and complete their act of rebellion by covering Sombrero in dye and glitter.

First-year teacher Denis Sabbah gets annoyed when the rabbit escapes because he needs it for a project, while Bendjoudi's form teacher, Olivia Côte, gets cross with Forestier when she coerces her into phoning Calamy. She also gets it in the neck from Brunt's snooty bourgeois mother, Anne Bouvier, who accuses her of casting her daughter as Hephaestus because she is handicapped. Forestier protests that Brunt had asked to play the role and Londez had helped her prepare, but Bouvier dismisses the suggestion that Brunt has forged a bond with Londez during their four years together and makes it plain that she disapproves of Forestier and her methods. When no one in the staffroom takes her concern over Brunt and Bendjoudi seriously, Forestier loses her temper and accuses one colleague of only being in teaching for the holidays. She also berates Côte for neglecting her pastoral role and insults Londez, who feels left out after not being invited to the meeting to settle Brunt's future.

Having phoned Calamy, Forestier decides to take matters into her own hands and goes to the clothes shop where she works. She pleads with her to take responsibility for Bendjoudi or face losing him. But the brittle Calamy merely hands over some money to give to her son, along with his security blanket, and she asks Forestier to leave her alone because her boss is watching them. When Forestier stands her ground, Calamy mocks her for being an over-protective mother and declares that Bendjoudi will be better equipped for dealing with life's hard knocks than her pampered son.

Elbaz takes Forestier and the boys to the Chinese restaurant run by Gaboriau's. But they argue over Bendjoudi's well-being, with Elbaz suggesting that he would be better off with a foster family, as Calamy will always let him down and he has his own life to lead. When Forestier storms out, Elbaz tries to kiss her and badmouths her when she scurries back to the school. Left alone with Bendjoudi, however, he becomes emotional when trying to reassure the boy that things will work out.

Yet, when Bendjoudi and Cousi appear before Sebbah's class to apologise for losing Sombrero, the former refuses to apologise and gets into a fight with Cousi that results in him slamming his head into a door frame. Cousi's cut isn't serious, but it prompts him to pack his belongings and attempt to leave home, just as Bendjoudi is attempting to cling to Forestier to prevent him from being taken away by the police because Calamy has vanished again. Gouy comes to collect Cousi and sneers at Forestier that he expects to win out when their case goes before a mediator. As he carries his son away on his shoulders, he promises to let him watch the Ninja Turtles movie and makes a salacious remark about its star, Megan Fox.

After a fainting in her classroom and enduring a sleepless night, Forestier arrives for her observation lesson with Caullery. She begins by explaining that Bendjoudi will not be returning, but she hopes that he will find his place in society because everyone deserves a chance. As a puzzled Caullery looks on, Forestier recalls how school used to be her sanctuary because her home life was complicated and she gets the class to work out how many dictations she has given in her eight-year career to date. With Londez and Desclozeaux watching her with slight concern, Forestier then claims that she is as much a pupil as her charges, as there is always something new to learn. However, Caullery intervenes and suggests that Forestier takes a break and she surprises D'Assumçao by waltzing out of the school.

She walks in the mountains and returns home at dusk to find Sombrero skulking in a flowerbed. D'Assumçao catches her on the stairs to ask if she is okay and she informs him that she has lost faith in teaching and wants to quit and refuses to change her mind, even though he shows her positive feedback from Dechaud's parents and she feels reassured by D'Assumçao's conviction in his vocation. Forestier also realises that she has to loosen up a bit and she agrees to let Cousi spend a year with Gouy.

But, after checking with Elbaz that Bendjoudi is coping at his hostel, she sticks to her plan to resign and is on her way to post her letter during the Olympus show when she finds Dechaud in her anvil costume in the hallway reading aloud from the notices on the wall. She is so moved by the beam of joy on the girl's face that she slips in to the back of the hall to watch Brunt appear as Man on the stage and Cousi is so touched by her performance, as she looks up at the artificial snow falling on her head, that he realises the remarkable job his mother has done in bringing her out of her shell when most would have given up on her.

An epilogue sees Forestier arrive for the start of the new term on the back of Elbaz's sushi delivery moped. Across the city, Brunt is about to start her new middle school, but she wanders into the kitchen of the restaurant she is visiting with her parents to find Londrez preparing vegetables. Normally, Brunt has a poor memory for people, but she remembers Londrez, even though she is wearing a hairnet, and calls her the first friend she ever had. Back at the school, Forestier welcomes her new pupils and she reassures a nervous girl that she is scared, too.

Jam packed with caricatures and contrivances, this is an easy film to watch, but a difficult one to take seriously. It's bad enough that the staff are depicted like adultlescents, but the ease with which fourth-time director Angel and co-scenarist Yann Coridian solve the problems facing Forestier and her students is positively soap operatic, as is the way in which Forestier drifts into an affair with Elbaz without knowing the first thing about him other than the fact he wants to enter Ironman competitions. The contrast between Forestier and Calamy is also facile, especially as the former is anything but a model mother and also plans to run away when the going gets too tough.

Despite the sloppiness of the scripting, however, Forestier makes a convincing teacher and interacts well with the juvenile ensemble. Her scenes with the bashful Dechaud, who is convinced she is stupid, are particularly well judged, unlike some of her showdowns with Cousi and Bendjoudi and her testy exchanges with Londez and Côte, whose indifference to the suffering of an abandoned student is as implausible as Calamy hanging on to the security blanket that Bendjoudi had slept with since he was an infant. The references to David Copperfield and the school play set on Mount Olympus also feel off-key. Yet, despite the failure to get small details like this right, Angel keeps Yves Angelo's twin cameras scurrying around the classrooms and corridors to capture the energy and enthusiasm of the kids that is also quaintly reflected in Philippe Miller's jaunty score. Moreover, she shows a respect for what teachers achieve in the classroom and have to put up with from the policy makers and bureaucrats who could do with spending more time at the chalk face rather than engaging in specious blue sky thinking.

In a celebrated sequence in Luis Buñuel's Belle de Jour (1967), the heroine is whisked away from a café in the Bois de Boulogne to impersonate the dead daughter of a nobleman. When asked about the scene, Buñuel claimed it formed part of the core narrative, while co-writer Jean-Claude Carrière insisted that it was a dream. Therein lies the fascination with this teasing adaptation of a 1928 Joseph Kessel novel, which won the Golden Lion at the Venice Film Festival and became its controversial director's biggest commercial success. Five decades on, the story of a middle-class housewife who spends her afternoons working in a Parisian brothel seems rather tame. But, in cinematic terms, it's as artistically and politically provocative as ever and remains a Surrealist delight.

As Dr Pierre Serizy (Jean Sorel) and his glamorous wife Séverine (Catherine Deneuve) ride in a horse-drawn carriage along an autumnal road in the Bois de Boulogne, they exchange words of love and gaze into each others eyes. Suddenly, Pierre bemoans the fact that Séverine is so frigid in bed and, when she asks him to be more understanding, he orders the liveried coachmen to drag her from the carriage. She struggles as they pull her through the undergrowth and suspend her arms from a tree branch so that they can rip her red dress and whip her naked back. Her pleas for mercy go unheard, as Pierre orders the younger driver to rape his wife.

But this shocking opening has taken place entirely in Séverine's imagination while she waits in a twin bed for Pierre to finish in the bathroom. She asks him to kiss her goodnight, but refuses to let him get under the covers beside her and hopes that she will relax a little more when they leave for a skiing holiday the next morning. However, Séverine dislikes Pierre's friend Henri Husson (Michel Piccoli), who happens to be dating her friend, Renée (Macha Méril), and she tries to avoid contact with him during their stay. She finds herself trapped at his table, however, and finds it vulgar that he ogles the pretty girls passing by when he is supposed to be in love with Renée. Yet Pierre insists he finds him amusing.

Back in Paris, Séverine and Renée go shopping and gossip in the taxi home about their mutual friend starting work in a brothel. As they discuss the distasteful prospect of having sex with a lover, let alone a stranger, the cabby interjects that he knows of several bordellos in the city, but reassures his passengers that they are not as seedy as they were in the red light district before the war. She gets home to find Husson has sent her red roses and she deliberately drops the vase and leaves maid Adélaïde Blasquez to clear up the mess. However, when she reaches for a perfume bottle in the bathroom, she manages to smash that, too.

That night - having fought off a memory of an overalled workman (perhaps her father?) slobbering a kiss on her cheek - Séverine asks Pierre if he has ever been to a `maison' and listens intently as he describes the process and the sense of desolation that follows. He is trying to work, but Séverine asks him to sit with her while she falls asleep and he wonders when she will ever grow up. She is certainly spoilt and spends the next day at her tennis club, where she bumps into her prostitute friend and Husson, who teases her about his own fondness for brothels, particularly the one run at 11 Cité Jean de Saumur by Madame Anaïs (Geneviève Page). As Séverine perches on the arm of a chair in her pristine white tennis outfit, Husson tries to steal a kiss and hints that he would like to find her alone one day without her husband. But Séverine is appalled and pushes him away before stalking off.

However, the address lingers in her memory and she wanders past the door before walking through the leaves in the park and sitting on a bench to compose herself. Wearing dark glasses, she passes the shop next door and presses the buzzer for `Madame Anaïs Fashions' to gain admittance to the building. She hovers in the hallway and recalls how she had refused the host while making her first communion before plucking up the courage to ring Anaïs's bell and enter her simply, but elegantly decorated apartment. A few years older, Anaïs realises that Séverine is nervous, but thinks she has applied for a job because she has money worries and agrees to let her work afternoons between two and five.

Hoping that seeing Pierre will make her see sense, Séverine goes to the hospital. But he is lunching with the head surgeon and is keener on reminding her that they have dinner guests than in reassuring her. So, she returns to Anaïs, who welcomes her with a glass of cherries in brandy and awards her the name, Belle de Jour. They hear the giggles of Charlotte (Françoise Fabian) and Mathilde (Maria Latour) as they entertain jovial regular Monsieur Adolphe (Francis Blanche) and Anaïs promises Séverine that she will get used to sleeping with strangers and may even have a little fun doing so.

He is a wealthy sweet maker from Bordeaux and flirts happily with all four women and delights in giving Mathilde a present of some snakes in a can. Ordering champagne to mark Séverine's first day, he is taken aback when she spurns his advances and Anaïs has to order her to stop messing around and do her duty. Ushering Charlotte and Mathilde into the sitting-room, Anaïs escorts Séverine to the door and she walks with resignation into the bedroom. Adolphe undresses her and pushes her down on the bed, where she responds to his bluff brusqueness by running her fingers through his hair and he realises that she likes it rough.

While Anaïs plays gin rummy with Mathilde, they note that he is taking his time today. But nothing is said to Séverine before she leaves at the end of her shift and returns home to play the model wife. She showers and burns her underwear and stockings on the fire before feigning a headache to avoid having to go out to dinner. Pierre coddles her and leaves her to sleep. But she fantasises about Pierre and Husson tying her to a wooden frame in cattle country so that the latter can hurl mud and insults at her.

A week after her first visit to Anaïs, Séverine returns and is given the benefit of the doubt. Charlotte and Mathilde help her into a robe, while explaining that her first client of the day is an eminent gynaecologist (François Maistre) and he thanks Anaïs for saving him such an aristocratic treat. However, she is puzzled by his desire to be whipped as a bungling butler failing his mistress and is ordered to watch through a peephole in the adjoining room while Charlotte shows her how to role play. She treats the professor like dirt and pushes her foot in his face and kicks him on the floor when he admits to breaking a vase.

Séverine is still wondering how someone can abase themselves in such a way when Anaïs bundles her away to meet an Asian gentleman (Iska Khan), who tries to pay with a Geisha Club credit card. Putting her arm around his neck, Séverine breaks into a rare smile as she leads him into the bedroom and continues to try and please him as he babbles away in a language she doesn't understand and shows her an unseen insect in a jade box that she clearly finds repulsive.

Outside, Anaïs greets Catherine (Dominique Dandrieux), the teenage daughter of her maid, Pallas (Marguerite Muni), who sends the girl upstairs to do her homework after rescuing her from the pawing Asian. Pallas enters the bedroom to find Séverine with her face buried in the sheets and spots of blood on the linen. But, when she tries to extend sympathy to the newcomer, she is surprised to find her looking pleased with herself for handling such a brute.

She is next seen sipping a drink at an outdoor café in the Bois and watching the Duke (Georges Marchal) descend from his carriage. He asks if he can sit at her table and inquires whether she would be ready to come to his chateau to render him a special service. She agrees and is driven to a magnificent country estate, where she is handed a black negligée and veil by the major-domo (Bernard Musson). Séverine follows him through the house and takes her place inside a coffin to play the Duke's late lamented daughter. He bellows at the major-domo when he knocks and asks the Duke if he would like his cats to enter before speaking softly to the recumbent Séverine. He places lilies on her chest and pleads for forgiveness for having hurt her before he sinks to his knees and starts masturbating beneath the catafalque. Opening her eyes in bemusement, Séverine looks over the side of the coffin. But, despite doing everything asked of her, she is thrown out into the rain and left to make her own way home.

That night, Séverine climbs into bed with Pierre and promises that they will sleep together more often, as she has a better understanding of him and is no longer afraid. She swears she loves him more each day and they kiss. Thus, when Husson pays a call the next day, Séverine informs the maid in an audible whisper that she is not at home to him. Yet, she still fantasises about canoodling under the table at the ski lodge with him with an envelope full of lily seeds, while Pierre and Renée chat amiably as though nothing untoward was going on. As Husson leaves the Serizy apartment, we cut to a playful homage to Jean-Luc Godard's À bout de souffle (1960), as Hippolyte (Francisco Rabal) purchases a copy of the New York Herald Tribune from a vendor on the Champs Elysées before helping gangster Marcel (Pierre Clémenti) steal a payroll in the lift of some offices above a cinema. The lay low at the brothel and Séverine (who has started smoking and drinking) is taken by the taciturn Marcel, who asks Hippolyte if he can have the new girl for himself. While the others sip lukewarm champagne and Anaïs makes a rude gesture to explain why Belle de Jour is so popular with her punters, Séverine and Marcel make passionate love and she asks when he will return. She runs her fingers along the knife scar on his shoulder and kisses him with intensity because she is turned on by the fact that he has had golden teeth since being punched in the mouth.

Pierre takes Séverine to the coast because he is convinced she is seeing someone in Paris. When he asks if she needs to return to the city, she insists she is having a nice time and (in her head) wishes that she could explain that she is being so furtive in order to improve their relationship. Back in the capital, however, Marcel is growing frustrated at not seeing his woman and almost allows his temper to get the better of him during a drug pick-up with Hippolyte. He calls Anaïs from a cheap bar and rushes over when he hears that Séverine has returned.

She is pleased to see him and wears her most stylish red outfit. He pins her to the bed and they kiss hungrily. But she refuses to tell him anything about her real life and admits she has no idea why she sleeps with strangers when she adores her husband. Marcel rolls on top of her and kicks off a boot to reveal a hole in the heel of his sock, as he strokes his foot against her calf. However, Séverine is more in love with Pierre than ever and he is so thrilled by her more open attitude that he even broaches the subject of a child.

But things take a drastic turn when Husson shows up at the brothel and asks to be alone with Séverine. She refuses to stay with him and Anaïs has to remind her of her place. He is amused and disappointed to see her there, as he had always been attracted by her virtue. But he swears not to betray her to Pierre and isn't interested in her explanation that she needs the release of being humiliated and abused. Her mind sweeps to a field at dawn, where Pierre and Husson fight a pistol duel. But her husband's bullet grazes her own face, as she is lashed to a tree nearby and he smears her temple with the blood seeping from the wound as he kisses her.

Séverine asks Anaïs if she can quit and allows her to think it's because things have become too intense with Marcel. She goes to kiss her on the lips, but the madam turns away because Séverine refuses to disclose her real name or her address so that they can stay in touch. On arriving home, however, she is confronted by Marcel, who threatens to tell Pierre everything unless she agrees to spend the night with him. She tries to coax him into leaving and he appears to take pity on her. But he waits in his car for Pierre to come home and guns him down. As he flees, however, he crashes his car and has to escape on foot. But a gendarme gives chase and fells him with a single bullet when he turns and raises his revolver.

Seeing Pierre on the pavement from her balcony, Séverine is distraught. But she is not allowed to see her comatose spouse at the hospital, where the senior consultant informs colleagues that no one can fathom a motive for the crime. Renée takes Séverine home and she soon finds herself nursing Pierre, who is blind, paralysed and seated in a wheelchair like the one that had given him such a start when he had asked Séverine about having a baby. She looks at the rain streaking the window before sitting with Pierre and doing needlepoint. Husson pays a call and he tells Séverine that he intends filling Pierre in on all her misadventures because he feels he has become a burden to his perfect wife and doesn't deserve to torture himself in such a way. She makes no attempt to stop him and prowls the apartment waiting for him to leave.

Hearing the door click, she goes to give Pierre his medicine and slumps on to the sofa. But, when she looks up, Pierre removes his glasses and stands up to embrace her. As the sound of cowbells and miaows fill the air, he crosses the room to make them a drink. She smiles and rushes to the balcony when she hears what sound like sleigh bells. The carriage in which they had ridden in the opening scene passes by empty along the still Bois road and the film ends.

Infinitely more sophisticated in its analysis of female desire than junk like Sam Taylor-Johnson's take on Fifty Shades of Grey (2011), this remains among the screen's most provocative treatises on gender politics. Having realised that Joseph Kessel's source was essentially sensationalist pulp, Luis Buñuel and Jean-Claude Carrière decided to use it solely as the basis for Séverine's humdrum daily life and created her fantasies from actual case studies suggested to them by the psychiatrists they consulted. Thus, they were able to explore the notion that Séverine derived most erotic gratification from her own masochistic imagination rather than from her coy couplings with Pierre or her kinky trysts with her clients at Chez Anaïs. This is what makes the disagreement over the encounter with the Duke and the mischievously ambiguous denouement all the more intriguing, as they so perfectly encapsulate the Surrealist fascination with the blurred line between daydreams and reality.

As he had demonstrated in The Exterminating Angel (1962), Buñuel delighted in presenting shocking events in a matter-of-fact manner, while he had also examined fetishism and clandestine desire in El (1953) and The Diary of a Chambermaid (1964). Superbly abetted here by cinematographer Sacha Vierney, production designer Robert Clavel and editor Walter Spohr, he contrasts the confining bourgeois comfort of the Serizy apartment with the liberating chic of the brothel, but stages contentious incidents at both locales. By keeping the bulk of the action in these settings, Buñuel also cajoles the audience into speculating on what happened to Séverine between the childhood flashbacks and her marriage to Pierre, as he has as much intention of revealing any tangible truths about her past or psyche as he has of disclosing the contents of the Asian customer's box.

Given that this meld of melodrama and the avant-garde has been consciously crafted to prevent a conclusive reading, it would be tempting to see Belle de Jour as a parody of either the woman's pictures that Douglas Sirk directed for producer Ross Hunter or the latter's battle of the sexes comedies with Doris Day. Yet, wearing telltale costumes designed by Yves Saint-Lauren, Catherine Deneuve often resembles Greta Garbo when the camera lingers on the vacant coldness behind her eyes and it's sometimes hard to remember that Deneuve was only 23 when she gave this remarkable performance. She would work with Buñuel again on Tristana (1970), although this tale of a rebellious Toledo ward rather got lost between The Milky Way (1969), The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie (1972), The Phantom of Liberty (1974) and That Obscure Object of Desire (1977), which completed the French phase of Buñuel's chequered career.

However, Deneuve is not alone in excelling here, as Geneviève Page also intrigues as the possibly lesbian madam, while Jean Sorel, Michel Piccoli and Pierre Clémenti archly present arrestingly different aspects of Gallic masculinity. But, as with all the great directors, the real star of the film is Buñuel himself.

The estimable CinemaItaliaUK returns on 9 September with a screening of Salvo Ficarra and Valentino Picone's L'ora legale/It's the Law at the Genesis Cinema on London's Mile End Road. It will be followed by a Q&A session led by Oxford professor, Guido Bonsaver. Approaching their 25th anniversary as performing partners, Ficarra e Picone have been directing their own pictures since teaming with Giambattista Avellino on Il 7 e l'8 (2007), which earned them a Donatello nomination for Best Director. Subsequent outings like It May Be Love But It Doesn't Show (2011) and Belluscone: A Sicilian Story (2014) have caused ripples in this country. But this scathing Sicilian satire is bound to attract a sizeable audience after opening to considerable acclaim at the Italian box office.

Election fever has gripped the small Sicilian town of Pietrammare. Teacher Vincenzo Amato seeks to unseat incumbent Tony Sperandeo. But he has been in power for so long that no one can remember a time when the potholes were fixed, the bins were emptied and the traffic flowed freely along the narrow thoroughfares. Indeed, the streets are so narrow that campaign vans driven by Salvo Ficarra and Valentino Picone wind up bumper to bumper in a one-way jam. As he supports, Sperandeo, Ficarra insists that he has the right of way and forces the Amato-backing Picone to reverse.

Each man is confident that his candidate is going to win and keep his promises. The irony is that the Picone and Ficarra are brothers who hope that the eventual winner will give them permission to build a gazebo to expand their café in the middle of town. Picone warns Ficarra that Sperandeo is exploiting him and can't even remember his name, whereas Amato is his brother-in-law. However, things take a dramatic turn when Sperandeo is arrested for bogus accounting and the people take to the streets to demand change. Parish priest Leo Gullotta informs his congregation that the corrupt will be punished in this world and the next, but Sperandeo emerges from the police station as bullish as ever.

However, as Amato's daughter, Eleonora De Luca, sings a song about reform with her band over a polling booth montage, it quickly becomes clear that the tide has turned and that Sperandeo has become yesterday's man. As he sobs beside unopened bottles of champagne, Ficarra grabs the microphone at Amato's victory rally and shamelessly whips up the crowd to cheer his brother-in-law to the echo.

Over the next few days, people fall over themselves to be nice to Picone and Ficarra and their families, as they hope to benefit from Amato taking power. Their sons are buttered up at school, while wives Ersilia Lombardo and Alessia D'Anna are offered bargains by local shopkeepers. But, while it's business as usual at the café for Picone, Ficarra holds a surgery for disgruntled neighbours and promises to use his influence with Amato to sort out their problems. He even seeks to cash in on his closeness to Amato to persuade him to approve their gazebo. However, he advises Ficarra to make a legal application and he is too stunned by the implications of this recommendation to argue with Picone when he objects to his plans for a grand Doric extension.

The townsfolk also react with dismay when Amato hires traffic cops to hand out parking tickets and regulate the traffic flow. Town hall workers are similarly appalled when Amato begins checking their attendance records, while cop Antonio Catania books greengrocer Antonio Pandolfo for not having a licence for a stall that has been on the same site since his father's day. Sergio Friscia gives his own uncle a ticket for failing to pick up his dog poop, while Francesco Benigno is charged with running an illegal car parking business. Worse follows when tax forms are dispatched to ensure the rubbish gets collected and Ficarra and Picone are besieged by fuming neighbours demanding to know why the man of the people has turned against them overnight by imposing draconian recycling laws.

Fr Gullotta is the next to complain when Amato compels him to pay property tax on the bed and breakfast he operates in the presbytery, while Ficarra is among the dozens claiming stipends as part-time forest rangers who are put back into uniform and forced to do their patrols. Thus, when Gullotta preaches to a packed church the following Sunday, he questions the wisdom of obeying every last by-law and nods his head in apology to a grinning Sperandeo, who can sense that his rival has played into his hands.

When Amato closes down the polluting petrochemical factory where Lombardo works, however, the mutinous residents begin to fight back. The friendly fishmonger refuses to serve D'Anna and Ficarra and Picone's sons go back to being invisible in their classes. But customers also stay away from the café and Ficarra and D'Anna and Picone and Lombardo find themselves arguing over Amato's rigidify. So, when Picone ticks off Ficarra for purchasing the materials for the gazebo without waiting for the official sanction, Ficarra gets his own back by sneaking out at night and tinkering with his brother's recycling bins, moving his car to an illegal spot and fly-tipping outside his house. He even daubs a graffiti love letter to Lombardo on a neighbour's shop front.

Eventually, Picone decides enough is enough and he joins Ficarra in plotting against Amato. Even Catania and Friscia break down and weep because they are so exhausted at handing out fines. But Picone and Ficarra are distracted by a gaggle of people bustling towards the church and they eavesdrop as Fr Gullotta chairs a protest meeting of his flock. As passions run high, he introduces shady Roman politico Alessandro Roja, who informs them that he has been sent from the capital to topple Amato, as Italy has enough on its plate with the recession without having to worry about a nationwide outbreak of honesty.

Ficarra and Picone are ordered to remove Amato or face the consequences. But anonymous phone and graffiti threats get them nowhere and their plan to put a horse's head in Amato's bed backfires when they prove too squeamish to kill a horse, a goat or a rabbit and settle for a swordfish with a lemon in its mouth. However, he refuses to be intimidated and starts demolishing illegal structures on the seafront and shutting down businesses without proper paperwork. When the café is closed, Picone and Ficarra storm into Amato's office to demand he shows them some flexibility. But, when he refuses, they hit upon a plan to besmirch his reputation with a string of fabricated misdemeanours and get Fr Gullatta's blessing to cause mayhem.

During the night, they add a canopy to Amato's house and (after several bungled attempts), they make an anonymous phone call to the cops to report him. The local TV station has a field day and Lombardo is upset to see her brother in trouble. However, D'Anna is delighted he has got his comeuppance and blurts out in De Luca's hearing that Amato pulled strings to get her into the conservatory. She promptly disappears and Lombardo and D'Anna help Amato search for her, while Picone and Ficarra bully her boyfriend into revealing that she is staying in a country villa belonging to his wealthy parents.

However, when disabled neighbour Alessandro Aiello slashes their tyres for parking in his spot, they are forced to travel by the horse they were too timid to behead. De Luca refuses to speak to them, but Amato arrives soon afterwards and begs her to forgive him because people only ever learn from their mistakes. The next day, he goes to the town hall to resign. But De Luca speaks to the crowd thronging the square to accuse them of being hypocrites. Amato joins her on the balcony to ask people to look around and see how pretty Pietrammare has become and urges them to make sacrifices and do their bit to ensure it becomes an even better place to live.

But the ultra-respectable Mary Cipolla shouts him down and the crowd quickly join her in demanding his resignation. Fr Gullotta stands smiling in their midst, while Ficarra and Picone despair of their friends and neighbours (including Aiello, who turns out not to be wheelchair-bound after all). Yet, as a brass band escorts Sperandeo back into office, the siblings push their way to the front of the procession to ask him to consider their gazebo application. He promises to restore the status quo and before daylight saving time is over, the town is back to its bad old ways and everyone seems delighted.

With Picone patiently playing straight man to the more ebullient Ficarra, this is a lively variation on the themes explored by Gennaro Nunziante in Quo Vado? (2016), which was also shown by CinemaItaliaUK last year. Writing with Edoardo De Angelis, Nicola Guaglianone and Fabrizio Testini, the star-directors riff amusingly on the cases of Roman mayor Ignazio Marino and comedian Beppe Grillo's bid to rescue Italian politics with his Five Star Movement. But even those unfamiliar with the ongoing battle against graft in Sicily and on the mainland and the rise of groups like Matteo Salvini's Us With Salvini spin-off from the Northern League will be able to enjoy this lively lampoon of the venality of everyday life, which cannily uses Carlo Crivell's breezy score to maintain the frantic pace of the action and punch home the jokes.

The ensemble responds splendidly to playing instantly recognisable caricatures, while cinematographer Ferran Paredes and production designer Sabrina Balestra wittily contrast the before and after views of Pietrammare, a fictional town that is charmingly played by the Palermo commune of Termini Imerese. But this is all about Ficarra and Picone, whose astute blend of sharp verbal and daffy physical comedy will delight those dismayed by the dying art of the double act.

Such is the cachet of a certain Bruce Willis movie that the mere mention of its title acts as a spoiler. Yet Dan Bush and Conal Byrne, the director and co-writer of The Vault, can hardly claim to have played their cards fiendishly close to their chests, as the opening credit sequence provides plentiful information about a yesteryear heist that turned hideously violent. Rather than give the game away too soon, however, let's suggest that this follow-up to The Reconstruction of William Zero (2014) is a mash-up between Robert Wise's The Haunting (1960) and Sidney Lumet's Dog Day Afternoon (1975), with a soupçon of the sinister quirkiness that Omer Fast brought to his unsettling and vastly superior Tom McCarthy adaptation, Remainder (2015).

As fire engines hurtle to a blaze in a nondescript American town, James Franco fights off terrifying flashbacks as he makes a cuppa in the kitchen of the Centurion Trust bank. All seems quiet, as he wanders on to the business floor, where detective Clifton Collins, Jr. flirts unsuccessfully with teller Q'orianka Kilcher and Francesca Eastwood waits nervously to be interviewed for a job by assistant manager Conal Byrne, who jokes that he has a problem retaining staff because the building is reputedly haunted. However, as the siren noise intensifies in the street, disgruntled customer Taryn Manning chews out middle-aged teller Jill Jane Clements about a bounced cheque.

Suddenly, three firemen in breathing apparatus (Scott Haze, Keith Loneker and Michael Milford) request admittance and take advantage of the chaos Manning is causing to disarm security guard James Gum and order Kilcher to open the vault. She is too scared to operate the system and requires Clements to help her, as Eastwood and Manning hold hostages at gunpoint. But, when they discover that there is only $70,000 in the safe, Franco offers to show them the basement vault if they untie him. As Haze needs a large sum to pay off creditors who have threatened to kill him, he is all in favour of trusting Franco, especially when he shows them how to negate the alarm network by filing a close-of-hours report before the 5:30pm deadline.

Tempted by the promise of $6 million, Manning and Milford go to investigate with a key that Franco has given them. Meanwhile, Eastwood removes her blonde wig and keeps an eye on the staff and customers with Haze and the trigger-happy Loneker. Bafflingly, Manning and Milford fail to ask Franco for the combination and set to work trying to cut through the lock in the bowels of the building, where they can be seen by the CCTV cameras. Lights flicker as Milford starts drilling and Franco shoots Eastwood a meaningful glance. Haze escorts Kilcher to the bathroom and she dupes him into talking about his problems while he washes the blood off a hand wound. She insists he is a good person who won't hurt anyone and he promises she will go home to her family.

Manning warns Haze about trusting Eastwood, who has come home solely to help her brother. But they have more to worry about when Milford opens the vault, only to be joined by two hooded figures who don't appear on the upstairs CCTV feed. Franco looks anxious, as Manning tries to work out what has freaked Milford, who has now been joined by more figures. They close in on him and Haze hears a muffled cry, as the CCTV screen fizzles out and Manning and Eastwood demand to know what is going on. Franco continues to knit his brows and twitch his moustache, as Loneker is also attacked by darkly hooded spectres. He vanishes from the safety deposit room, yet the hostages remain seated safely on the floor, as Manning blasts open the door leading to the basement to go in search of her cohorts.

While Haze finds a Zippo lighter and witnesses Milford driving a drill into his skull, Eastwood gets a call from Collins offering a deal if she lets the hostages go. Convinced Kilcher has called the cops, Eastwood drags her into the office. But Kilcher tells her that they have disturbed something sinister in the vault and recalls a 1982 robbery that saw a masked robber hold the staff for days before he forced them to shoot each other. He also burnt several people alive and Kilcher claims that he got away scot-free and nobody knows his identity to this day. Eastwood is sceptical and goes to hurt Kilcher with a desk lamp when Haze reminds her that they have agreed to avoid violence.

Manning arrives with a bagful of banknotes and suggests they leave. But Eastwood realises they are all dated from 1982 and Manning lose patience with her pampered sibling and turns on Franco when he warns her that Eastwood is close to cracking. Meanwhile, Haze takes an oxy acetylene torch to cut into another part of the vault. But he is interrupted by the sound of a woman's voice, just as Eastwood listens in on an outgoing call from inside the bank. As Haze stumbles upon Cristin Azure as she transforms from damsel in distress into a snarling beast, Manning finds Loneker with his head ripped off.

Trying to buy some time, Eastwood releases hostage Aleksander Vayshelboym. But Collins denies getting an SOS message from the bank and reassures Eastwood that he wants the siege to end without bloodshed. However, Haze has started fires in the basement that set off the alarms and Franco urges Eastwood to untie everyone, as the cops will be forced to storm the building. She cuts him free and he helps Gum get Kilcher and Clements to safety. As Eastwood runs along the corridor, she sees bagheaded figures being herded into the vault and rouses herself from her trance before she gets trapped. She scrambles into a firefighter uniform, but turns to see the masked robber and the 1982 hostages shuffling towards her. An old pop song echoes through the room, as Haze pleads with Eastwood to take the money and leave with Manning, as he unleashes a fireball that destroys everyone (and thing) in the vicinity.

Eastwood listens to reports on the radio as she drives into the desert to rendezvous with Manning. She tells her that Haze died, but Manning seems more interested in the money and isn't overly concerned about their ordeal. Back at the police precinct, Collins interviews Kilcher. We see fuzzy images of Milford drilling himself and Loneker putting a gun into his mouth. But Collins is puzzled by Kilcher's references to Franco, as he doesn't appear on any of the CCTV footage. But, as she looks at the evidence wall, she spots Franco's photo and Collins tuts because he was one of the hostages from 1982.

A resounding cut to black follows. But we aren't done yet, for, just as Eastwood and Manning are about to drive away, the car refuses to start. They pop the hood and Manning climbs out to investigate. However, the turned-off radio starts to play the 1982 pop song and, as Manning lowers the bonnet, Eastwood is aghast to see the robber in the porcelain mask standing menacingly behind her.

Many viewers will have ceased caring long before the double whammy denouement. But, while this may not be the most original or polished of pictures, it does have some intriguing notions, as well as some admirably creepy photography by Andrew Shulkind and some atmospheric sets by Jessee J. Clarkson, who also doubles as the masked robber. The problem lies in the shameless contrivances within the storyline and the sketchiness of the characterisation. Next to nothing is known about the crooks or their victims, apart from the fact that Haze owes money, Manning and Eastwood despise each other, and Kilcher finds it hard to pee under pressure. Moreover, despite the knowing nature of a couple of cross-cuts, it's also pretty evident that Franco is seeking revenge on the thieves for what happened to him 35 years earlier.

One could ask why a ghost is able to speak to Collins down the phone when he doesn't show up on any of the close-circuit footage. But, doubtless, Bush and Byrne will have an answer up their sleeve, as they seem adept at plucking convenient twists out of thin air in order to keep their ponderous plot moving forwards. In fairness, Kilcher, Manning and Eastwood deliver better performances than the material merits, with the latter showing flashes of both her parents, Clint Eastwood and Frances Fisher. But this rattlebag of other people's better ideas is just the kind of mediocrity we can now expect to disappear to disc and download - or, straight to video, as they would have said back in 1982.

One's suspicions are always raised when a documentary purporting to present an objective overview turns out to have an alternative agenda. Jairus McLeary's The Work offers fascinating insights into the operation of the Inside Circle Foundation within the same Folsom State Prison in Sacramento, California that was immortalised in the 1960s by Johnny Cash. However, the Foundation's CEO, James McLeary, is not only the documentary's executive producer, but he is also the father of its director.

This relationship is never mentioned once during the film (despite cropping up openly in publicity interviews) nor is the fact that producers Eon and Miles McCleary are the court videographer and first-time film-maker's brothers and, like him, are veteran Circle volunteers. Indeed, the other exec producers are the Foundation's founder and `keeper of wisdom', Rob Allbee, and Gethin Aldous, who has been participating in sessions since 2003 and is also credited as McLeary's co-director. So, few should be surprised when they realise that this is less an entirely altruistic slice of film vérité than a glorified and unquestioning advertorial.

An opening caption explains that inmates of New Folsom Prison attend weekly group therapy sessions as part of their rehabilitation programme. The majority are serving long sentences for violent and/or gang-related crimes. Twice a year, however, members of the public are allowed inside the maximum security facility to join the convicts for intensive four-day sessions and, as they pass through the gates in silent single file, we are introduced to Charles Tate, Jr., an African-American bartender who wants to increase his self-understanding, Chris Renton, a museum associate who hopes the course jolts him out of a rut, and Brian Nazarof, a black teacher's assistant, who admits that he is seeking a thrill by consorting with known killers in a famous jail.

As the outsiders shuffle into the grey-clad chapel, McLeary shows us glimpses of inmates in the exercise yard before cutting to a caption informing us that participants in the programme agree to leave gang politics and racial prejudices at the door. We then see the white-bearded James McLeary (ie McLeary) welcome the group by leading them through a call and answer exercise that requires them to shout `shoo' whenever he growls `simbaway', which he claims symbolises `the way the lion walks, the way the lion is, the way the lion be'. He tells them that they have now gone inside themselves and have boarded a train that will, presumably, take them to their desired destination.

Also white bearded and sporting a bandana, Rob (an ex-con-turned-poet) starts Day One by reminding prisoners and outsiders alike that he can't predict how things will turn out before Rick Misener, a tattooed, bandana-wearing former member of the Aryan Brotherhood, interjects to urge the newcomers to be true to themselves so that everyone can become better for the experience. Yet another set of captions point out that some of the prisoners are participating for the first time, while civilians are asked to choose two experienced inmates to act as their guides over the four days. We then eavesdrop, as Charles explains that he is from South Central Los Angeles and has been terrified of being jailed because his father has spent so long behind bars that he missed his birth. Twenty-five year-old Chris confides that he has come to discover why he keeps passing up opportunities and has failed to mature over the last decade, while Brian expresses an unconvincing concern about how Folsom routine impinges on the mindset of the prisoners.

Charles asks Rick about his crime and he confesses to one count of murder and three of robbery, while Vegas (the nickname of Eldra Jackson III, a former shot caller for The Bloods) tells Brian that he has been inside for 19 years for kidnapping for purposes of robbery and Dark Cloud (the tribal name of Andrew Molino, a member of the Skins Native American Prison Gang) almost cut a guy in half while high. As they take a short break, Vegas and his unnamed partner joke that they have a live wire in Brian, who admits to being tired of the drudgery and obstacles hindering him and needs to find a new way to approach life. Vegas suggests talking to Brian is like looking in a mirror and he clearly anticipates some fireworks.

The men are divided into groups and pull up chairs while trained facilitators run through the rigmarole. They ask people to discuss their expectations and Vegas kicks off by saying he wants to stop being his own worst enemy and reach out so that everyone he encounters can be `kissed by God'. Dark Cloud hopes to become vulnerable without being hurt, while first-timer Neseli `Kiki' Tagoai (a member of the Others Pacific Islander and Asian Prison Gang, who has served 17 years for murder and robbery) wants to embrace his fears and reconcile himself to losing touch with his family.

Facilitator Aaron Ortega-Piddington asks Kiki to describe the armour that he wears to protect himself from the grief of losing his sister and the mood rapidly changes, as he wishes to reconnect with the little boy who used to cry when his father whooped him. Vegas offers to go inside with him, as he explores those emotions and facilitator Bharataji Joplin also steps into the circle to support him, as the camera flits between the focused faces of the other group members. They encourage him to breathe and he breaks down and collapses into Vegas's arms. The others kneel beside them and the camera drops down to their level to maintain the sense of intimacy and intensity.

As Kiki howls with pain, his friends talk to him as though he was undergoing a form of religious experience, while Rick touchingly notices that Charles has remained in his seat and checks that he is coping with the shock to his system. But he recovers his composure and thanks Kiki with a hug for being so honest in front of them. Interestingly, when they resume their circle to analyse what they have witnessed, a tongue-tied Brian offers a somewhat sceptical perspective, as he reveals that he finds it difficult not to judge everyone. He pays Vegas a half-hearted compliment for his role in proceedings and reminds Kiki that he has only taken the first step towards sorting himself out. But, in the minibus home, Chris proves equally dubious about the processes, as he worries that he will let everyone down if he doesn't cry, as he isn't seeking an outpouring.

Day Two dawns and co-founder Donald Morrison addresses the assembled. He informs them that going deep into the wound isn't enough and he recites a poem about finding value in the little things that other people wouldn't notice. When the group session resumes, Rick lets Brian know that he is aware of his cynicism in asking everyone in the circle to describe a time in which they have felt betrayed. Rick gets things rolling by recalling how two fathers let him down at three and 15 and how his biker and criminal friends similarly melted away at the first sign of trouble. He is 47 and has never felt love and wishes he could channel his feelings into something other than violence. He ends his testimony with `amen', which reinforces the notion that the Foundation leans more towards prayer groups than AA meetings.

Father issues also blight Charles, who has reached 40 feeling that he had to teach himself how to be a man. He hopes that he has been a better role model for his own kids, but is aware that he has passed some of his sadness on to them. Bharataji suggests that he lets this go, but Aaron and Rick can see he doesn't want to delve more deeply and allow the baton to pass to Edward `Lonnie' Wilson, a black convict who spent 22 years as a heroin addict to avoid confronting the feeling of betrayal caused by his brother telling their friends about his first sexual experience. Brian butts in at this point to question Lonnie's integrity and facilitator Alvin `Bud' Wheeler intervenes to prevent tempers fraying. However, being challenged causes Brian to bellow with self-loathing fury and Vegas coaxes him into admitting that his brain short circuits and that he feels like killing people who disrespect him because inside he feels like a prince.

Bud suggests that the group crowd Brian and prevent him from lashing out, as he encourages him to put a sound to his rage. James hovers on the periphery, as Brian wails with suppressed wrath and Bud advises him to let it all out because everyone he knows gets a backlash from it because he is such an aggressive person. Eventually, they goad him into acknowledging a resentment towards a father who never felt that he was good enough and Vegas commends him for reaching a place in which he can start to control his emotions because he now understands their source.

Following a break, Bud jokes that Brian can boast about the cut on his forehead before Rick pipes up that he has a new respect for him, as he couldn't stand him at first, but now sees that they are alike. And, of course, this affirmation is precisely what Brian was seeking and he grins while basking in his moment of glory. Indeed, the golden glow of his triumph seeps into the pillow shots showing the sun setting and tiny yellow chickens pecking at their feed in a tight little scrum. At this point, sceptics will need to fight down any concerns that scenes have been stage-managed or that certain individuals have been selected for their ability to rabble-rouse. Wherever the truth lies (and nothing shown in any film happens entirely by accident, thanks to the decisions made during editing), we move into Day Three.

Candles burn in the chapel as Dante Granville (who is serving double life plus 55 years for his misdeeds with The Bloods) explains how he is trying to change his ways. He feels suicidal because his son's mother refuses to let him see his child and Charles pleads with him not to quit because the boy will always need his father. As he weeps, Vegas stands face to face with Dante and tells him that killing himself is a coward's way out. He asks him to give him 90 days to find a solution to his problem and they hug so tightly that their words become muffled and their body microphones pick up their heartbeats. Yet the ambient mic still captures sobs and screams from elsewhere in the room that usher in an inescapable sense of authenticity.

Aaron brings everyone in for a group hug and an unnamed prisoner recalls Don's poem about diving for golden coins and encourages his companions to come up with handfuls of the things. When Rick says they are covered in blood, the man urges him to wash them clean and the group begin to sway in solidarity, as Rick breaks ranks to stand in front of Dante and implore him to let his fellow inmates care for him without the dreadful fear that he might give up on them and himself.

The afternoon session sees the outsiders lay on mattresses beneath blanket canopies, while their guides watch over them. Dreamy music begins to play, as Bud bids the men to imagine themselves floating out of the room and into a space where they can commune with themselves as boys. He tells them to write down the deepest childhood need that would have prevented their lives from departing from the straight and narrow and we see Chris being comforted by his guardians when he starts to cry. When they reassemble to reveal, Charles laments a lack of stability and the opportunity to be carefree and Brian curses being told what to do. But Chris apologises for not taking things seriously up to now, as the New Age music he considered hokum got under his skin and reminded him of how happy he had been as a kid and how he needs to rediscover that ability to be himself and enjoy life.

Dark Cloud also admits to holding himself back, but his turn to shine comes on Day Four. As incense is wafted over the group, he recalls feeling sorry for his father when his parents split and defying his mother to go and live with him. But he turned out to be exactly the kind of deadbeat she had described and he feels he betrayed his mother to invest in a loser who led him astray. They lower him on to a mattress and restrain him when he lashes out at Brian for calling him `gentle'. Rick leads Brian away and reassures him that Dark Cloud meant nothing by his actions, as he is just going through some heavy duty emotions.

By contrast, Chris's revelation that he could never live up to his own father's manly expectations seems small beer. He wishes he could tell him how hurt he was by this minor rejection and Dark Cloud suggests that someone `holds the energy' of Chris's father so he can say his piece and feel cleansed. Chris selects James as his surrogate and, while the others form a barrier of extended arms for him to push through, James orders Chris to stop trying to help with the car in the garage and return to the house with his mother. Eventually, he asserts himself and James beams at him an envelopes him in a hug. But, in truth, this felt like a cornball Method acting exercise and the doubts come flooding back in.

After a macho hugging session, the group ponders its conclusions. Rick announces his love of God, life and adrenaline edges, as he thanks everyone for giving him a good rush. Dante (who is holding a sign asking women to write to him) admits he has renewed strength, while Chris is pleased to have found a new way. Lonnie recognises that many of his comrades are fatherless sons and he hopes this cycle can be broken through groups like the Inside Circle. As he lauds the value of `the work', a caption reveals that during the 17 years that the Foundation has existed, over 40 convicts who have been through it have been released and avoided re-offending.

The closing statement provides powerful statistical evidence to the success of the scheme. But, despite the odd moment of gruelling intensity, this documentary singularly fails to disguise its subjectivity. Indeed, it frequently feels too organised to be entirely observational. Cinematographer Arturo Santamaria and his cohorts always seem to know where to go and when to press in for a close-up and, while some of the movements are undoubtedly rooted in spontaneous empathy, several more feel choreographed. Amy Foote's editing reinforces this sense of storytelling to ensure that outsiders and inmates alike have their epiphanies perfectly framed.

The sound recorded and designed by Thomas Curley and John M. Davis feels less shaped, especially as so many off-screen shrieks coincide with significant declarations within the group. But nothing casts graver doubt over the film than it unwillingness to own up to its pre-existing connections to the Inside Circle Foundation, which surely explains the ease with which the crew earn the trust of the participants. Moreover, nothing is mentioned about the application and selection processes for the Folsom sessions or why Chris, Charles and Brian (who were previously known to the McLeary brothers) were chosen or why they ended up in a group with Rick, Vegas, Dark Cloud, Lonnie, Dante and Kiki. After all, isn't this supposed to be a study of disclosure, as well as the crisis in American masculinity and the pastoral failings of the correctional system?

As Daniel Draper reveals in Nature of the Beast, the Labour MP for Bolsover likes a sing-song. He performs a couple of numbers during the course of this intimate documentary, but decides against a rendition of the Paul Anka classic, `My Way', even though he exploits this rare moment in the spotlight to state a case of which he's certain. If Dennis Skinner has had any regrets, they seem too few to mention and if he has ever bitten off more than he could chew, he avows here that he ate it up, stood tall and faced it all. He is proud of what he has achieved and not in a shy way. Indeed, Skinner appears to be living proof that a man has naught unless he has himself and says the things he truly feels without using the words of one who kneels. How fitting it would have been, therefore, if he had ended this hagiographic profile with the lines: `The record shows I took the blows and did it my way.'

Draper first met Skinner while making The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists, a frustratingly little seen 2014 study of Robert Tressell's seminal novel that also featured contributions by Len McCluskey, Tom Watson and Ricky Tomlinson. Working through his Liverpool-based production company, Shut Out the Light, Draper raised a couple of thousand pounds to shoot the interview sequences before launching a Kickstarter campaign to fund post-production.

Taking some cues from Skinner's 2015 autobiography, Sailing Close to the Wind, Draper seeks to balance reflections and reminiscences with testimonials from siblings and constituents, as well as insights into the veteran MP's love of nature. The result is very similar to Skip Kite's Tony Benn: Will and Testament (2013), in that it contains no criticism of its subject and offers no objective appraisal of his career. Moreover, like Ken Loach's The Spirit of `45 (2013), it's so highly selective in its analysis of postwar British political history that it places all failures at the door of the Conservative Party, while avoiding significant mention of Harold Wilson, Neil Kinnock, Tonys Benn and Blair, and Jeremy Corbyn. Consequently, while this represents a fitting tribute to a man who has dedicated his life to the service and betterment of others, it's too narrowly focused to do full justice to Skinner's lifelong class struggle.

A summatory montage follows an uncomfortably staged opening shot of Dennis Skinner rising from his front-bench seat in an empty House of Commons to wag a disapproving finger in the direction of the Dispatch Box, But rather than charging into a chronological account of Skinner's tussles, Draper pauses for some lyrical images of flowers blooming in the London parklands where the octogenarian firebrand loves to roam when not in the chamber. The old-style dance band music continues to play as Skinner avers that growing up as the third of nine children in the Derbyshire coal-mining community of Clay Cross meant that he knew which side of the political fence he was on by the age of four. Brothers Derrick, Graham, Garry and David concur that parents Edward and Lucy gave them a sound grounding in what was right and wrong, even though they lived in abject poverty for much of the time because their father had a reputation as a militant having participated in the 1926 General Strike. However, as most mining villages were in the countryside, Edward also passed on a love of plants and trees that sustained Skinner after he left Tupton Grammar School in 1949 and allowed his romantic notion riding a pit pony at night to lead him to Parkhouse Colliery, where he would work until its closure in 1962.

Following archive footage of miners toiling below ground and mother Lucy expressing her surprise that her cleverest son chose the pit life, Skinner boasts that he used his mental arithmetic skills to bamboozle the management into taking on extra workers after he became a union delegate. But he also enjoyed his leisure time and the brothers recall scrumping mushrooms and fruit from the land of mine owner General Jackson. Thus, when he came to Westminster, Skinner used to walk in the parks with Salford MP Frank Allaun and he shows Draper the pink blossom of the Star Magnolia tree that quickly became one of his favourite haunts.

Having joined the Labour Party in 1956, Skinner was persuaded to stand for the local council and produced the Clay Cross Clarion newspaper to keep constituents informed of their plans. He remains rightly proud of introducing free TV licences for the old and disabled and of resisting council rent rises for 12 consecutive years. Indeed, when he became council leader in the mid-1960s, he told the chief clerk to melt down his chain of office and put the proceeds into the housing fund. But his brothers insist he was simply doing what his parents would have expected of him, as they suggest that Skinner got his quick-wittedness and ability to speak in public from their mother's love of singing. To prove the point, he sings a verse from `Getting to Know You' from The King and I and joins brother Graham in a rendition of `Tattooed Lady', as they stroll through some sunlit woods reciting a saucy verse.

But we cut back to the weighty stuff, as Skinner beats broadcaster Keith Kyle to the Labour nomination for the parliamentary seat of Bolsover and comes to Westminster following the General Election in 1970. A neat dissolve replaces a chimney stack with Big Ben, as Skinner explains that he set himself three rules on becoming an MP. Firstly, he decided to take his job seriously and attend sittings as often as he could in order to speak up for his electorate. Secondly, he chose to stay out of the bars, as they were the preserve of right-wing media types, and, thirdly, he opted to refuse all invitations to go on all-party trips, as he had no desire to waste his time fraternising with Tories, Liberals and members of the House of Lords. Some might consider the latter operating principle an intolerantly confrontational way of gong about things. But Skinner has always valued his independence, as it has allowed him to retain his integrity during 47 years in what he dubs `the Palace of Varieties'.

After a brief eulogy about Richmond Park and the BBC selecting him to appear in a programme about London parks, Draper revisits Derrick, Graham, Garry and David, who recall how proud their parents were that their brother had become an MP. Skinner describes his daily routine and how he does his post early to ensure he beats the Scottish Nationalists to his preferred seat. But he also recalls how he dissuaded James Callaghan from offering him a ministerial post in 1976, as he believes all patronage taints the recipient. He also remembers how Tory and part-time actor Andrew Faulds gave him the `Beast of Bolsover' tag.

But there's more meat in a section on how Clay Cross Council resisted Edward Heath's bid to raise council rents through the Housing Finance Act. Indeed, David and Graham were councillors at the time and risked going to prison by leading a rent strike. In fact, they were bankrupted and denied the chance to stand for elected office for resisting central government. Skinner describes the backlash as vicious and makes no bones about admitting that he voted against Britain joining the Common Market and stood in opposition to the 1971 Industrial Relations Act, which sought to outlaw mass picketing and cross-union strike support, while also enabling the seizure of union strike funds. After six dockers were sent to Pentonville for breaching the terms of the act, Skinner spoke at a TUC day of action rally and not only were the men released, but the legislation was also kicked into the long grass.

He laments that there hasn't been a similar victory for the working class since, but notes the power that socialism would be able to wield if it could achieve consistent unity. But he was less impressed by the way TUC General Secretary Norman Willis capitulated to Margaret Thatcher and bemoans the fact other unions betrayed the National Union of Mineworkers by failing to put pressure on the government by forcing them to fight on more than one front. Snippets from Ewan MacColl's `Daddy, What Did You Do in the Strike?' and Billy Bragg's version of `Which Side Are You On?' play over news footage and stills of the strike, which saw Skinner donate his wages to the fighting funds while predicting that entire communities would be decimated by a right-wing bid to smash to the power of the people.

As we see recent footage of Skinner speaking in the Commons about relishing the opportunity to take another crack at capitalism, it's clear that he has not forgotten or forgiven the feebleness of his own party's leadership during the dispute that could have preserved traditional lifestyles and values. But he also has a triumph from this period to celebrate, as he thwarted Enoch Powell's attempt to block stem cell research by filibustering after discovering a little-known clause in the writings of parliamentary expert Erskine May that allowed him to move a writ for the Breckon and Radnor by-election.

Related to a cheering crowd at a public meeting, this anecdote demonstrates that Skinner has been much more than a mocker and a blocker. Indeed, one of the strengths of the film is the way it allows ordinary constituents like Gary and Flo Ransford, Ken Wainwright, Jackie Glover, Ken Rowley, Ann Syret and Tony Trafford to extol Skinner's virtues as a local MP. Anything but a left-wing rebel to them, he is always available and willing to back local causes. Indeed, he has been immortalised on an NUM banner that still appears at the annual Durham Miners' Gala, where he is seen joking with the crowds that he has survived cancer and a hip replacement and can still walk backwards as he approaches his 85th year. Party worked Louisa Walker recalls Skinner coming to see an old friend in a care home to sing with her, while he spends so much time chatting to ordinary folks while on the stump that she once wondered whether he had been kidnapped.

Although Draper steers clear of Skinner's private life (he has three children from a dissolved marriage) and the fact he studied at Ruskin College, Oxford, he mentions his love of fitness and he demonstrates his race walking technique in a Westminster corridor. He also lets Skinner wax lyrical about Woody Allen, as he explains how he gets ideas for speeches from films and books. Moreover, he sets aside a chapter to laud Skinner's quips to Black Rod during the State Opening of Parliament. There is a danger, these days, that this is his main claim to fame. But he smiles with satisfaction at the topicality and barbed wit of some of his better efforts. This montage of defiance is followed by Derek Charnley singing Tom Petty's `I Won't Back Down' and Skinner concedes that singing in pubs helped conquer his fears of public speaking.

Having described how he often speaks extemporaneously by treating his theme like the trunk of a tree, Skinner reveals that he frequently feels hatred from the Tory benches. He stands in his place and wags his finger in trademark fashion before a split-screen sequence shows how he has changed down the years without once compromising himself. News clips recall his frequent suspensions from the Commons for speaking his mind, particularly where `Dodgy Dave' Cameron was concerned. On each occasion, he refused to withdraw his statements or apologise for them and he certainly doesn't mince his words in denouncing Andrew Neil as a right-winger and in admonishing Emily Maitlis live on air for spinning one of his remarks. Skinner also castigates the BBC for bowing to the Labour elite in keeping him off programmes like Question Time.

Another montage details Skinner's rebellions against the Labour leadership, including Kinnock's policy review, the expulsion of militants from the party, the introduction of student tuition fees, the war in Iraq, military action against Islamic State, the nuclear weapons budget and Blair's updated Clause IV. These are all important issues and ones that continue to play a crucial role in the divisions within the Labour Party. As such, Draper's failure to examine them in any detail feels like they have been swept under the carpet, especially as he hives off instead into a paean to Clement Attlee's landslide government, which gives Skinner the chance to reel off its socialist achievements. It's fine to compare the postwar and present periods of austerity, but it's too easy to seek sanctuary in reforms that were enacted seven decades ago when both major parties have subsequently presided over so much decline, duplicity, division and dishonour.

Slipping in a story about Skinner refusing a free breakfast on a train, Draper succeeds splendidly in proving that he has never forgotten his roots. Following a snippet of `If Those Lips Could Only Speak', Skinner also reveals his caring side, as he recalls getting his mother to sing with him while she was in a nursing home with dementia. He chose this song on Desert Island Discs and continues to sing standards at old people's homes, as he knows how comforting they can be. Another humanising detail emerges when he reflects that he didn't see the sea before a visit to Blackpool at 17. A few more revelations like this and a bit less tub-thumping might have made this seem more like a personal portrait and less like a party political. But Skinner is right to urge people to vote, as blood was shed so that the lower classes could have a say in the running of the country.

Following a brief shot of Skinner and Corbyn together, Derrick praises his brother for having resisted the temptation to sample the London good life and become a champagne socialist. Garry lauds him for sticking a difficult job for so long without a word of complaint, while Graham commends him for always putting other folk first. Noting that politics and nature are never static, Skinner concludes by renewing his commitment to the working class and one can but hope he has many more years on the frontline, as there are too few MPs of his ilk left and we will all be the poorer for his passing.

For all the ideological commitment, passionate pronouncements and wisps of sentimentality, the great glory of this picture is the string of melodies played by Ambrose and His Orchestra, as `Song of the Harp', `Auf Wiedersehen, My Dear', `You Forgot Your Glove', `Paradise', `Willow Weep for Me', `Serenade in the Night' and `You've Got Me Crying Again' evoke the world that forged Dennis Skinner and the beliefs that his political heirs are striving to prevent impatiently acquisitive modern living from crushing. It remains to be seen whether they will succeed, but it would be a sad thing if such values became as unfashionable as this brand of music.

Ironically, there are echoes of Skinner's personality in a song from a later era, Billy Joel's `Angry Young Man', and, on more than one occasions, he sounds like plain-speaking character from a kitchen sink melodrama. But the 30 year-old Draper (who is a self-confessed Corbynista) revels in Skinner's individuality, while Allan Melia's lush wildlife photography reinforces the elegiac feel. Yet, even though he sometimes seems like a principled gong in the wilderness, Skinner doesn't exist in a bubble and the documentary's tunnel vision proves as much a weakness as its selectivity and its reluctance to subject Skinner's uncompromising approach and his track record to critical scrutiny.

In Kumiko, the Treasure Hunter (2014), writer-director David Zelner sent 29 year-old Tokyo office worker Rinko Kikuchi to Minnesota in search of the money that Steve Buscemi had buried in Joel and Ethan Coen's masterly and entirely fictional comedy, Fargo (1996). Zelner was inspired by the urban myth that sprang up around the suicide of Takako Konishi, who had purportedly succumbed to hypothermia while seeking the Fargo loot in Detroit Lakes.

Now, in The Lure, documentarist Tomas Leach follows a real-life treasure hunt, as he joins some of the dogged hopefuls on the trail of the $3 million in gold and jewels that eccentric art dealer Forrest Fenn had supposedly hidden in a small box in the Rocky Mountains of New Mexico. According to Fenn, around 65,000 have followed the cryptic clues he has provided in a poem, with some having come as close as 200 feet to their quarry. But others have perished in their pursuit and, in seeking to understand what drives six further aspirants, Leach doesn't always seem sure how to pitch his unconventional sociological study, which has been executive produced by Errol Morris.

Opening with a caption quoting Sherlock Holmes's suspicion of obvious facts, a montage of news clips establishes that millionaire Forrest Fenn launched the treasure hunt after he was diagnosed with what was thought to be terminal kidney cancer. Having beaten the disease, he published a memoir, The Thrill of the Chase (2010), which he claimed was filled with clues. But it wasn't until 2013 that the quest for the 10x10-inch chest hit the national headlines and began attracting the likes of Katya Luce, who clams to have spent over $30,000 on solving the puzzle, and friends Amanda Fry and Paulina Longenbaugh, who hope to become famous for cracking the case.

Artist Yellowbird Samora also has his eyes on the prize, as he scours Yellowstone Park and worries that Fenn might have merely perpetrated a hoax. Computer programmer-turned-cowboy David Rice is also aware that he may have been duped, but he has been born again in the wilderness and believes that Fenn has tapped into the local legends (which include Billy the Kid) to continue the regions reputation for storytelling. By contrast, the terminally ill Mike Cox believes that Fenn is a fiendishly clever man who has based the clues on events in his own life, such as his being shot down over Vietnam.

Fry considers her pursuance to be therapeutic, as she is an ex-cop from an El Paso family of law enforcers who was invalided out of the force after a violent man irreparably damaged her left hand. Eager to find a purpose to keep her from lapsing into depression, she had seized upon Fenn's challenge and Longenbaugh has been her willing accomplice. Rice also shares details of his enterprise with family and friends and has lunch with Ken Hanson, who claims to have held the box and a gold nugget that Fenn placed inside it. Although he would like to find the treasure and prove to the world what a clever fellow he is, Rice asserts that part of him would also want to rebury it so that Fenn's legacy could endure.

One clue prompts Samora to venture into an old gold mine, while Luce strides past a `hazardous area' signpost to take her chances, as she doesn't have a partner and this is her obsession. The scenery is stunning, with a river babbling through the rocks, but most people have their noses to the floor as they mosey along. Rice uses a map to point out the terrain he has covered and confides that he thinks the site will be close to a waterfall, while Fry and Longenbaugh revel in camping out under the stars and proving to their husbands, parents and prissy city friends that they have what it takes to rough it. They agree that the adventure is as important as the grail, but they are also aware that Fenn enjoys being a puppet master, who uses his blog to drop hints and mischievous pieces of (mis)information that Rice and Luce consider to be witty and inspired.

The intellectual aspect also entices Cox, who feels an affinity with Fenn because his father was also in the USAF. However, he has made over 50 trips in two years because trekking helps him forget the pain in his body from chemotherapy and gives him a focus other than on his health. Escaping also prompted Rice to quit his well-paid job in Southern California and he muses on the physical tests that the classic Hollywood Western wilderness have been imposing upon him for the last 13 years. He pays Fenn a visit and they have an excruciating conversation, in which the white-bearded quester tries to dupe the sagacious and ferociously quick-witted octogenarian into betraying a few secrets.

As we see newspaper clippings about Fenn being accused of trespassing to find artifacts and dealing in forgeries, he admits in voiceover that everyone is a charlatan to some degree. Jim Hoesten believes this, as he insists that his brother found the treasure site while examining videotape of an expedition and he was frustrated to find that it had been removed by the time he was able to return. Fenn teases that imagination is more important than knowledge, but both Luce's daughter and Cox's wife think the search is beyond quixotic, with the latter taunting her husband about the time he got lost and had to be rescued by helicopter and rushed to hospital because he had worn himself out.

Over a series of dramatic skyscapes, we hear news reports of people endangering themselves to find the treasure and one phone-in guest suggests that Fenn is an attention-seeking fraud. But Rice posits that Fenn has spent so long in this mythical area that he probably initiated the hunt to add his own name to hall of fame. Indeed, it's the landscape that drives Cox and his son Dylan to a secluded spot in view of a hilltop crucifix that Cox is convinced Fenn has identified as a good spot to die. But they come away empty handed and have to negotiate their way along a rocky mountain road.

Since moving to the south-west, Rice has become a man of the land and, as we see him tending his allotment, he wishes he could have lived in simpler times. He has reconciled himself to the journey mattering more than the destination and Luce now sees things that way as she has a boyfriend, Billy, who is becoming increasingly intrigued by her quest. They explore a settlement in the caves behind an extinct waterfall and Luce avers that the more she looks for the treasure the more she finds herself.

As snow falls on the trees and an aerial camera looks down on the whitened ground, Fenn claims that he is no longer part of the story, as it doesn't need his presence to endure because it has found its own soul. Cox boasts that he is so close he can taste the prize and asks Leach how he wants to film the discovery. But the film ends with this blaze of bravura and the mystery, for now and probably for the foreseeable future, remains intact.

Although beautifully photographed to convey the forbidding majesty of the New Mexican countryside, this documentary spends far too much time scouting around for thematic significance. One suspects that the life and times of the archly self-satisfied Forrest Fenn would have made for more interesting viewing, as his mind holds the key to the quest. But Leach opted to take a different route and focus on the peregrinations and speculations of six perfectly pleasant and sincere, but not always compelling people.

Treating each searcher with laudable respect, Leach devotes most attention to Rice, Cox and Luce, who prove genial travelling companions without appearing any more magnetic than the frustratingly short-changed Samora, Fry and Longenbaugh. But, while they gush about how alive hunting makes them feel, all remain fairly guarded, as they naturally don't want to let slip any information that might help their rivals. Nevertheless, much more might have been said about their reasons for devoting so much time, coin and effort on what may well be a wild goose chase. Moreover, Leach might have worked harder to pique viewer curiosity about the treasure itself, which is discussed as scantly as the verse clues and Fenn's autobiography. Thus, despite the lulling accompaniment of Calexico duo Joey Burns and John Convertino and the guiding presence of Errol Morris, this is a disappointing investigation into a potentially gripping subject that might have leapt off the screen more in the hands of a Werner Herzog or Morgan Spurlock.