Parky at the Pictures (In Cinemas 1/8/2013)

Those who saw Paradise: Love will know from the opening sequences that teenager Melanie Linz likes nothing more than lounging around, eating sandwiches and chatting on her mobile phone. However, when mother Margarethe Tiesel jets off to Africa, Linz and the family cat are billeted with aunt Maria Hofstaetter, who has been living alone since her Muslim husband returned to his family in Egypt. It proves to be a short stay, however, as Hofstatter bundles Linz into her car and drives her into the mountains outside Vienna to the dietary summer camp run by doctor Joseph Lorenz, nutritionist Vivian Bartsch and fitness instructor Michael Thomas.

Initially nervous at being with strangers and somewhat self-conscious about her size, Lenz takes a while to settle in, especially as roommates Verena Lehbauer and Johanna Schmid seem much more comfortable in their own skins than she is. However, Lenz is soon joining in the midnight feasts and spin the bottle sessions that help pass the time between Bartsch's uninspiring sermons on healthy eating and Thomas's rigorous exercise sessions. They get caught occasionally and given stern lectures about why they are here and what they have to achieve to make their families proud. But Lenz and her friends seem quite content with how they look and appear to be thriving in a place where they are not subjected to the constant taunting of body fascistic peers or reminded of their inadequacies by media images of physical perfection. Indeed, they even appear to relish belting out the less than subtle camp song, `If You're Happy and You Know It, Clap Your Fat'.

Despite their camaraderie, all is not entirely well, as Schmid betrays in phone calls to her divorced parents, in which she goes out of her way to convince her mother how beneficial the regime is proving, while hinting to her father that she isn't entirely happy. Lenz also tries to contact her mother, but suspects she is having too good a time in Kenya to bother with her. Instead, she turns her attention to Lorenz and starts inventing new complaints in order to attend his morning surgeries.

Some four decades her senior, Lorenz recognises that Lenz has developed a crush and does everything he can to deflect her gushing compliments and clumsy attempts at flirtation. Thus, when she openly attempts to seduce him during an expedition to the woods, he merely gives her a chaste hug and a kiss on the top of her head. On another occasion, he prevents her from getting into his car. But Lorenz clearly feels some sort of attraction towards Lenz and, while he is wholly aware how inappropriate any sort of relationship would be, he cannot help but bask in the glow of her adoration.

Lenz is unused to feeling attractive and is deeply envious of the 16 year-old Lehbauer's lurid accounts of her own sexual experiences. So, when she suggests they dress to the nines and sneak out of the camp to go to a nearby nightclub, Lenz is more than willing to be led astray. However, she has no idea of the effect that her dancing is having on Rainer Luttenberger and his pal Hannes A. Pendl and they are only rescued from a predatory assault by the quick thinking of the manager, who realises that the girls are probably from the camp and are, therefore, most likely on his premises illegally.

Having ejected the lechers, he calls Lorenz, who comes to collect them. He drives Lenz out into the forest and leads her to a clearing, where he makes her lie down on the ground before lying beside her. However, they do nothing more than look up at the night sky and, having returned Lenz to the camp, Lorenz orders her to stay away from him. Alone and feeling confused, hurt and convinced that she has been rejected because she is overweight rather than underage, the sobbing Lenz tries to call her mother. She cannot get through, however, and leaves a message - but, we already know from the first film, that Tiesel has also been trying to contact her daughter and is feeling pretty melancholic herself, as she celebrates her birthday far from home and those who truly love her (albeit in their own fashion).

Seidl makes little of the irony that mother and daughter seek consolation in men who would be more appropriate to the other. Yet he cannot resist toying with audience expectation and exploiting his reputation for tackling taboo topics head on by pitching Lenz and Lorenz into situations that have the potential to lapse into something more disconcerting and depraved. But, while Lorenz is intrigued by Lenz and possibly feels some sort of connection, he is not a paedophile and his efforts to let her down gently recall the altogether more innocent Hollywood movies of yore, in which younger girls experienced the pangs of first love with older men.

But Seidl is more interested in lampooning the social conventions behind such pernicious places as fat camps. He may let the camera linger overlong as it prowls past lines of corpulent bodies awaiting medical inspections, but he refuses to leer and makes it plain that the residents feel rare contentment in the company of those of their own size. However, production designers Andreas Donhauser and Renate Martin make splendid use of glass, metal and garish colours to make the facility seem a cold and  uncomfortable place, especially in comparison with the striking woodland vistas captured by cinematographers Wolfgang Thaler and Ed Lachman, with the misty tryst between Lenz and Lorenz looking particularly enchanting. But what is equally affecting is the silence and stillness between the pair and it is difficult to appreciate that he is an experienced stage actor, while she is a non-professional making her debut.

Yet, in spite of its droll humour and tender tone, this has much less to say about contemporary Austrian mores than its predecessors. The Lolita aspect is something of a macguffin, as Seidl uses it to unsettle the viewer rather than confront an issue that has deep resonances in his homeland following the Fritzl case. Moreover, he and co-scenarist Veronika Franz flit between subjects like broken homes, underage sex, bullying, obesity and the imposition of standards by a cynical media without delving into any of them in much detail.

This can partly be explained by the fact that the characters are so young and that their views are necessarily somewhat superficial (especially as the cast was encouraged to improvise rather than follow a script). But Seidl is always aware that he is playing with fire and not only keeps things as light as possible, but also blocks the action to ensure a discreet distance is always maintained between Lorenz and Lenz. As a consequence, this is by far the lightest and most accessible entry in the trilogy and one is left to hope that Lenz can find greater happiness than Tiesel and Hofstaetter by being herself rather than someone others want her to be.

For all its merits, one doubts whether the `Paradise' trilogy will be the subject of heated debate three decades from now. By contrast, Michael Cimino's Heaven's Gate has been endlessly discussed since its calamitous premiere in 1980, with its detractors and defenders alike often resorting to hyperbole in order to make their case. Withdrawn almost as soon as it was released and reissued in a truncated version the following year, this sprawling and largely fictional account of the Johnson County War has been accused of driving the venerable United Artists company into the arms of the unscrupulous MGM and bringing the glorious New Hollywood experiment to a juddering halt and ushering in the soulless blockbuster era that continues to blight American cinema. Indeed, more has been written about the making and ramifications of Heaven's Gate than its content and quality. Now, however, there is a chance to see this much-maligned picture as its director intended and, of course, it emerges as neither the masterpiece that some insist nor the unqualified disaster that many more are content for it to remain. Maybe Carleton Young had it right when he said towards the end of John Ford's majestic Western, The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance (1962): `This is the West, sir. When the legend becomes fact, print the legend.'

Five years after the end of the Civil War, Kris Kristofferson and John Hurt graduate from Harvard. They listen with suitable earnestness as the esteemed Joseph Cotten addresses the assembled and urges them never to forget their duty to educate the nation. Hurt, a valedictorian who is somewhat the worse for drink, replies with mock gravity and caustic wit. But Kristofferson is finding it hard to concentrate on what his friend has to say, as he has been smitten by newcomer Roseanne Vela and he makes a beeline for her as the orchestra strikes up `The Blue Danube' and everyone begins to waltz on the lawn.

Twenty years later, Kristofferson is a US marshal and is riding to Johnson County when he stops off in the boom town of Casper, Wyoming. Tensions are rising between the local cattle ranchers and the influx of European immigrants, whose habitual rustling has prompted Sam Waterston, the head of the Wyoming Stock Growers Association, to draw up a list of 125 suspects who are to be shot on sight, as thieves or troublemakers. Naturally, Kristofferson is disturbed when Hurt informs him of this development, but the Association's hired gun is his close friend, Christopher Walken. Yet when Kristofferson warns Waterston to stay within the law, a fight breaks out and the infuriated cattle baron starts seeking volunteers to help him with his hit list.

One of the recipients of the stolen cattle is Johnson County bordello madam Isabelle Huppert, who accepts steers as payment for the services of her girls. However, Kristofferson is devoted to her and they spend their leisure time at the Heaven's Gate roller-skating rink owned by Jeff Bridges. When US Army captain Terry O'Quinn gets hold of a copy of Waterston's list, Kristofferson reads it out to the patrons so that those named can make their getaway or reinforce their defences. Stationmaster Richard Masur promises to tell Kristofferson if he hears of any approaching posses, but he is murdered before he can warn the immigrants that Waterston is on the march. Soon afterwards, some of his men break into the bordello and rape Huppert and Kristofferson guns down those responsible without a single thought of a fair trial.

Walken is also disgusted by this act of barbarism and rides to Waterston's camp and kills the sole culprit who had evaded Kristofferson's vendetta. He vows to have nothing more to do with Waterston, but is trapped in a cabin with friends Geoffrey Lewis and Mickey Routke before a fierce gun battle erupts. Determined to help Walken, Huppert attempts to rescue them in her wagon, but is forced to flee on horseback, despite having picked off a couple of Waterston's men. Walken continues to fight after Lewis and Rourke perish and manages to scribble Huppert a farewell note before burning wagons are sent careering into the cabin and he is slaughtered as he tries to make a bid for freedom.

Riding to Heaven's Gate, Huppert alerts the settlers that a vicious gang is heading their way and Bridges organises the rabble into a fighting force. Rather than wait for Waterston to make his move, however, Bridges decides to go on the offensive and Hurt is among those bent on defending the right to life and liberty. As Waterston leaves the battle to fetch reinforcements, Kristofferson and Huppert return to Lewis's shack and find Walken's bullet-riddled body, along with his final message. Distraught at losing both Hurt and Walken, Kristofferson throws in his lot with the newcomers and a full-scale skirmish is only ended when Waterston arrives with troops detailed to restore the peace.

Realising that it is impossible for them to stay in such a lawless territory, Kristofferson, Huppert and Bridges pack up and prepare to leave. But they are ambushed by Waterston and a couple of his henchmen and Kristofferson alone survives to stroll the deck of his luxury yacht off Newport, Rhode Island in 1903. Well dressed and clearly a man of wealth and power, he goes below and lights a cigarette for Vela, who now appears to be his wife (or mistress). He looks at her, as though contemplating the things that have befallen them since he first set eyes on her 33 years earlier and returns to the deck with a measured tread, as the craft sails on.

One of the least romanticised visions of the Old West ever committed to celluloid, this forms a vital link in the chain that connects Sam Peckinpah's The Wild Bunch (1969) and Robert Altman's McCabe and Mrs Miller (1971) to Clint Eastwood's Unforgiven and Quentin Tarantino's Django Unchained (2012). Unlike the aforementioned, much of the violence takes place off screen, with Cimino often showing the hideous consequences of carnage rather than the choreographed blood-letting itself. But the grime and grimness of frontier society are captured with an unflinching authenticity by cinematographer Vilmos Zsigmond, production designer Tambi Larsen and costumier Allen Highfill, whose efforts are staunchly supported by a sterling cast - and, of course, by Mansfield College, which stood in for Harvard..

Having headlined Peckinpah's Pat Garrett & Billy the Kid (1973), Merton graduate Kris Kristofferson ably conveys the sense of patrician fair play that prompts him to stand alongside the huddled masses against the arriviste cattle barons. But, as is so often the case in revisionist Westerns, it's the villains who linger longest in the mind, as Walken's gunslinger cuts a sneering dash before he reclaims his soul and Waterston plays superbly against type as the bigot who considers himself above the law. Huppert, Hurt and Bridges also show to advantage, with the latter playing one of his own ancestors. Yet, while it has many good points, this also has its share of longueurs and moments of self-indulgence. However, what makes them so forgivable (albeit, perhaps, in retrospect) is that these lapses were committed in the name of real film-making, with proper sets, breathing extras and shots that were achieved by cameras mounted on dollies and cranes rather than by state-of-the-art computers.

In the grand scheme of things, of course it matters that Heaven's Gate did for the company started in 1919 by DW Griffith, Charlie Chaplin, Douglas Fairbanks and Mary Pickford. But it was also shameful that critics of the calibre of Andrew Sarris, Pauline Kael and Roger Ebert should have followed lead given by the notoriously cantankerous Vincent Canby of the New York Times in castigating the film because its budget had spiralled and it had been branded a calamity by scurrilous insiders and tabloid rumour-mongers. Could the Internet have saved the picture by allowing citizen critics to drown out the chorus of disapproval? Probably not. But it will get a fairer hearing this time round and even those with little good to say about the horribly overrated Oscar winner The Deer Hunter (1979) may have to concede that it is a pity a fiasco that was only partially of Cimino's own making should have stalled his career just as it was gaining momentum.

Kris Kristofferson has always blamed the bad press for his fall from the A list. He had started out as a country singer and one of his contemporaries is presented in a highly unflattering light in Jonathan Holiff's documentary, My Father and the Man in Black. Ambitiously blending archive material with dramatic reconstructions, this starts abruptly with the suicide of Saul Holiff on 17 March 2005 against a giant screen showing monochrome footage of a cancelled Johnny Cash concert. It becomes even more convoluted, as Jonathan explains that he deeply resented the fact that his father never said he loved him, turned into a drunken scold after he quit showbiz and died without leaving a note to explain his actions. However, in July 2005, after Jonathan had resigned from his Los Angeles talent agency and returned to Nanaimo, British Columbia to be with his mother Barbara, his curiosity was piqued by a phone call from a journalist asking about Saul's relationship with Cash. In November, Jonathan went to see James Mangold's biopic, Walk the Line, and was so enraged by the cavalier manner in which Saul had been airbrushed out of Cash's career that he decided to open his father's secret storage locker and was astonished by what he found inside.

In addition to a gold record for `A Boy Named Sue', Jonathan also found written and recorded diaries chronicling Saul's entire time with Cash. But what intrigued him most was an announcement of his own birth in the trade papers that Saul seemed to use to plead with concert bookers to give him and his star turn another chance. A flashback then takes us to Nashville in March 1965, as Saul despairs of keeping Cash under control. His addiction to pills and booze was causing him to miss shows and Saul was having to reimburse angry patrons and venue owners. Then, in June, Cash became the first person in the history of the United States to be charged with starting a forest fire and was only excused the Ventura County blaze because the judge accepted his defence of a faulty exhaust pipe.

Four months later, however, Cash was arrested again, this time at El Paso Airport, where he was charged with attempting to smuggle drugs. In fact, the pills were for his own use, but the bust hit the headlines when the extremist newspaper Thunderbolt accused Cash of using his ill-gotten gains to procure `Negro women' and he threatened to sue for defamation, even though the rag had the backing of the Ku Klux Klan. What infuriated Cash was that the woman he had supposedly bought was his Italian wife of 11 years, Vivian Liberto. But, while he was keen to help the couple, Saul was losing money hand over fist, as further cancellations cost him a small fortune in compensation payments. With domestic bookers refusing to touch Cash, Saul got him a gig in Canada on 19 March 1966. However, while they were in Toronto, Cash overdosed and was all-but dead when he was discovered on the floor of his hotel room. Amazingly, however, he recovered sufficiently to dash across the border to Rochester, New York, where he gave two of the finest performances of his early career.

Convinced that he had a global superstar on his hands, if only he could covince him to behave, Saul arranged for Cash to tour Britain and splendid footage shows him jamming with Bob Dylan backstage in Cardiff in May 1966. However, he disappeared before a scheduled flight to Paris and flew to Israel, where he informed Saul that he was tired of his style of management and was cancelling his contract. A couple of months later, Cash pleased with Saul to retake the reins and Jonathan found himself wondering about the events that had shaped Saul and given him the patience and fortitude to put up with such egotistical tantrums.

Saul Holiff had been born in London, Ontario in 1925 and had been forced to gamble on the streets with his brother after their father had lost his business. Having endured merciless anti-Semitism at school, Saul started selling fruit and vegetables in 1940 and was drafted into the Royal Canadian Air Force in 1943, where he was forever being criticised by his comrades for talking too much and showing off. Convinced that he didn't fit in in Canada, Saul decided to chance his arm in Los Angeles in September 1945 and soon wangled his way on to the Paramount lot, where he saw numerous films being made, including the Bob Hope comedy, Monsieur Beaucaire (1946). But, his hopes of finding a niche in show business were dashed when he answered the call of duty to help the family by going door to door as a suit salesman.
Eventually, Saul made a success of the venture and featured himself in the weekly advertising campaign running in the local paper. Then, in 1957, he produced his first rock`n'roll show and, the following year, promoted a tour headlining Buddy Holly, Chuck Berry and Jerry Lee Lewis. He also invested in a fast food joint that was the first in the district to use drive-thru ordering and became famous for its square burgers offering `four extra bites'. Still a jack of all trades, Saul admitted that he knew nothing about country music when he first saw Johnny Cash play and the pair argued terribly on first meeting. But Saul was convinced they could go places together and Cash bought into his confidence and an exchange of letters from June 1961 seems to show how fast their friendship became.

But Saul was oblivious to Cash's pill popping and it was only after he messed up his breaththrough appearance at Carnegie Hall that he realised Cash needed help. He also decided he required better backing on stage and persuaded singing starlet June Carter to join him at the Big D Jamboree in Dallas, Texas in December 1961. The pair was a sensation and their appearance at the first Country and Western Spectacular at the Hollywood Bowl in 1962 was deemed an equal triumph. During a tour of Japan and South Korea, Cash wrote to thank Saul for enabling him to enjoy life for the first time. But the demons were soon back and a second visit to the Bowl was a disaster and, choosing to blame Saul rather than himself, Cash fired him for the first time.

Cash soon thought better of his decision, however, and the good times returned when `Ring of Fire' reached No.1 and `Understand Your Man' further raised his profile nationwide. But Saul was determined to change the way things were done and, having married Barbara Robinson in 1964, he vowed to manage Cash from Canada. However, another crisis was inevitably arose when Cash announced that he wished to divorce Vivian. Rather than take responsibility for his actions, he left the arrangements to Saul, who had just become a father for the first time. Moreover, he overdosed for a second time in Ottawa on 20 September 1966 and promised to clean up his act if June would marry him. On 13 December, however, he was arrested for public drunkenness in Starkville, Mississippi and similar incidents followed hard on behind until he broke down on stage at the Dade Auditorium in Miami and called out in deep distress for Saul to help him.

As usual, it was Saul who had to pay for Cash's mistakes and agencies once again proved reluctant to take a chance on the notoriously unreliable outlaw. June was also becoming tired of playing nursemaid and was concerned that Cash's antics would tarnish her own reputation. But the fear of losing her persuaded Cash to go into rehab. He also allowed Saul to hire Bob Johnston as his new producer and they suggested that he should record a live album at Folsom State Prison on 13 January 1968. The gig became legendary and the resulting album finally made Cash a star worldwide. He proposed to June on stage in Saul's hometown and all seemed well - until the newlyweds honeymooned in Israel.

Having toured the places where Jesus Christ had walked, Cash became a new man. He played a concert of religious songs in the Holy Land and insisted on putting it out as an album, even though Saul knew that all but his core fan base would reject it. Indeed, Born Again Cash proved hard to sell until Granada Television in Britain proposed filming a show at San Quentin Prison on 24 February 1969. This, together with the phenomenal success of `A Boy Named Sue' seemed to put Cash back on top. But, just two days after San Quentin, Saul suddenly wondered why he was wasting his life pampering a man whose finger always seemed to be poised above the self-destruct button. Overweight and drinking heavily, Saul poured out his self-loathing in a taped diary entry, in which he castigated himself for risking his family's future on dodgy stock market deals.

When the pair were profiled in a magazine article in 1970, Cash stated that Saul was the best in the business and Saul admitted that he liked being the eminence grise behind the star, rather like Colonel Tom Parker was with Elvis Presley. He also revelled in taking a 10% cut of the annual $3 million that Cash was raking in. But, in his own recordings, he lamented being a long-distance father and Jonathan interjects that he always felt managed rather than raised. His post-suicide mood was little improved when he found among Saul's files, a ledger detailing the amounts that he had spent on his sons and claimed back through his company. Jonathan also remembers signing contracts slipped under his bedroom door to achieve certain goals at school and was usually relieved when Saul went away on his next trip.

But the rollercoaster ride was coming to an end. In 1970, Cash teamed with Kirk Douglas and Karen Black on Lamont Johnson's Western, A Gunfight, and critics started touting him as the next singing cowboy. But movie stardom was forgotten as Johnny and June decided to turn their TV series into a pulpit and, as ratings began to tumble, it was cancelled soon after preacher Billy Graham made a guest appearance. In May 1971, Cash called Saul and informed him that he was going to make a film about the life of Christ and vowed not to sing another note until his vision had been realised. However, Saul couldn't find anybody to back The Gospel Road and Cash poured his own money into a picture that included scenes of his own baptism in the River Jordan and Saul playing Caiaphas, the High Priest who had sent Christ to Pontius Pilate to be crucified.

Determined not to read too much into this casting, Saul booked Cash into Las Vegas for Easter 1972. However, he insisted on showing clips from the movie during the show and complained bitterly that Saul hadn't done enough to promote the film after it finally premiered in North Carolina in February 1973. The reviews were withering and Saul was close to quitting because he resented the fact that the Cashes were forever trying to save his soul. Finally, in Lake Tahoe on 29 July 1973, June accused Saul of exploiting her husband and, when he felt that her remarks about his failure to embrace Christ as his saviour began to border on the anti-Semitic, he walked out of the room and Johnny Cash's life.

In the autumn of 1974, Saul Holiff enrolled as a mature student at a university in Canada and told a radio interviewer that he had resigned of his own free will and wished the Cashes nothing but the best. Jonathan mentions in passing that Columbia Records dropped Cash in 1986, but it seems to be pushing things a bit too far to suggest that he fell apart without Saul's hand to guide him. They exchanged letters in the 1990s, but seemingly never met again. Cash died at the age of 71 in 2003 and, just as he had done when he had decided to resign, Saul drew up a list of pros and cons before taking his own life two years later. As he listens to a tape of Saul confessing his shortcomings as a parent (which he blamed on his own loveless childhood), Jonathan seems finally reconciled to a father who had found it so unmanly to express affection for his sons. He also realises that Saul didn't need to leave a note, as he had left an entire life story.

Ending with a taping of Saul chatting to a seven year-old Jonathan, this deeply personal, but slickly assembled documentary brings back memories of other disappointed offspring studies like Nathaniel Kahn's My Architect (2003) and Mark Wexler's Tell Them Who You Are (2004). Initially, it's a bit of a jumble, as Jonathan explains who he is and why we should be interested in Saul. Moreover, he seems to be a tad too keen to insert himself into a story in which he is resolutely a bit player. But, once he rewinds from the period around his own birth to concentrate on Saul's background and how he and Cash formed an unlikely double act, the picture becomes increasingly compelling and revealing.

During the mostly silent flashbacks, Saul is played at 20, 40, 50 and 75 by Alino Giraldi, Joshua Robinson, Gary Holiff and Norman Singer, while Cash is impersonated at 30 and 40 by David Disher and Dan Champagne and June is essayed by Elli Hollands. Given the amount of photographic and audio material at Jonathan's disposal, some may find these inserts a touch TV-movieish. But they help string things together and are nowhere near as calculated as those recently employed by Bart Layton in The Impostor and Sarah Polley in Stories We Tell. As with the latter, however, Jonathan presumes that audiences will be as enthralled with his own past as he is and the failure to join the dots between Saul's professional and private lives is a major flaw, especially as Jonathan could so easily have compared Cash's failure to turn up for big events with Saul's no-shows in his own life. But this evidently cathartic exercise still makes a fascinating companion piece to Walk the Line and certainly sheds new light on some of the Man in Black's darkest days.

Around the time that Johnny Cash was making his name, a Brazilian musician started edging away from the bossa nova to embrace Tropicália and the psychedelic style pioneered by The Beatles. Eventually, his new approach brought him into direct conflict with the military regime and he was forced into exile after spending a brief time in jail. Yet this pariah returned to his homeland and served as Minister of Culture in the government of President Luiz Lula da Silva. Now, he is on his travels again in Pierre-Yves Borgeaud's documentary, Viramundo: A Musical Journey With Gilberto Gil, which seeks to show how the subjugation of indigenous peoples found expression in musical forms that continue to influence modern sounds in Brazil, Australia and South Africa.

The starting point is Gil's home state of Bahia in north-eastern Brazil, where he visits an educational facility and discusses with students the role that music has played in reducing racism around the world. He then plays `Raça Humana', in which he sings that humanity took God a week to fashion and ever since it has been systematically destroying every other aspect of his creation. Spectacular shots follow of Salvador's Parade des Filhos de Gandhi, in which the majority of the participants wear the same blue and white ceremonial costume, before Gil goes to São Gabriel da Cachoeira to learn how the local tribes had a language and a culture imposed upon them by the invading Portuguese. However, things have scarcely improved in the post-colonial era, as successive Brazilian regimes have sought to suppress customs and rituals that have enabled the residents to retain their age-old identity.

Gil flies to Sydney to meet Peter Garrett, the former singer with the band Midnight Oil who is now Australia's Education Minister. However, Gil is more interested in learning about Aboriginal society and hooks up with Djimba Possum Burns for a session with Gustavo Leite, who has been Gil's percussionist since he was 15 years old. Burns takes Gil to Redfern to introduce him to Patrick Dodson, who explains how determined efforts were made by erstwhile administrations to eradicate Aboriginal culture. He mentions in passing the shameful adoption policy that has only recently been acknowledged and he reveals that the current Aboriginal population is very youthful and determined not to lie down in the face of the social problems that blight communities on the edge of urban conurbations. Gil listens to some rappers and tries to jam along with them, but they don't seem entirely sure who he is and the encounter feels a tad awkward.

Heading into the Northern Territories, Gil calls on singer Shellie Morris in Arnhem Land, who was born to a white mother and Aboriginal father and was confiscated for adoption by a white family in Sydney. She tells Gil how she felt drawn back to her homeland and they play a song written by the sister with whom she was reunited late in life and she is proud to be able to perform in the language of her ancestors. Djakapurra Munyarryan is equally happy to drive Gil through the bush to the tiny village of Dhalinybuy, where they visit the school before Munyarryan begins intoning a songline about the significance of the river to the community and the local children begin dancing to the didgeridoo accompaniment and the chanting of some youths. Back in the village, Gil watches more kids dancing to a drum beat and he is enchanted by their sense of rhythm and enjoyment of the beat. He is also taken by the Aboriginal concept of family, which is far more inclusive than the supposedly civilised norm

Rob Lane is also intrigued by this notion and he explains during Gil's visit to the Mulka Project in Yirrkala how he had to be integrated into a new wider family circle after his marriage. He runs a centre designed to help Aboriginal children use computers in order to learn about their preserved heritage and Gil reveals how this was one of his key policies while in office in Brazil. However, while he is keen for future generations to embrace their past, he also suggests that identities should never be frozen and sings a song out in the open about belonging and, as a crowd gathers, he is joined by Rrawun Maymuru and the East Journey Band.

Their song continues to play on the soundtrack, as Gil drives through the countryside to Bawaka, where he is met at the water's edge by Timmy `Djawa' Burarrwanga, who daubs his face with white paint and teaches him the moves for a spear chant. They feed a curious crocodile with a fish and perform a cleansing ceremony, as Djawa explains that there is no such thing as a stranger in Aboriginal culture and Gil responds that he feels honoured to have been extended such a cordial welcome. He is given the name `Colta' after the campfire around which they sit and one of Djawa's companions expresses his surprise that a `black fella' should have risen to become a minister. Gil says that anything is possible, as his ancestors were once slaves, and he hopes that the same will happen in Australia one day.

As if to prove the point that such dramatic change can be achieved peacefully, Gil flies to the township of Soweto in South Africa, where he explains on a TV chat show how he was imprisoned for his political views. As he wanders around the station, he bumps into some Nigerians and they give him the name `Shango Wale', as he is a returning member of the Shango Yoruba tribe and he is amused by how small the world is becoming. Yet there are still divisions, as the members of the Miagi Youth Orchestra might play together, but some come from township shanties while others live in gated communities. Gil and guitarist Sergio Chiavazzoli drive around Johannesburg before meeting with Paul Hanmer, who has arranged some of Gil's songs for the orchestra to play. Gil admits that he can't read music, but plays a song about the African Renaissance that ably sums up the progress he has witnessed.

Legendary musician Vusi Mahlasela offers to give Gil a guided tour of the city and he shows him the house where Gandhi lived as a young lawyer. They jam together on `Tempo Rei' and Gil jokes that he had to have an operation on his vocal chords after his stint in politics, as speaking proved more of a strain than singing. Mahlasela agrees that music has more power to inspire and change than mere rhetoric. They go to his home township of Mamelodi outside Pretoria and visit the Ribeiro building (now an internet café), where Mahlasela was arrested and had his instruments confiscated by the police. As they sing a song about time healing wounds, Leite meets Xhosa musician Madosini Latozi Mpahleni and they duet on bowed uhadi gourds.

Gil goes to the Market Theatre and chats with artistic director Malcolm Purkey about a new light emerging from the darkest recesses of South African history. Gil takes to the stage with Mahlasela and, with the Miagi players looking on, they sing about music belonging to the people. Mahlasela explains the idea of `ubuntu' that enables them to play so harmonically and, during what seems to be a concert, Gil guests with the Miagi and the entire audience claps along with joyous enthusiasm. .

Back in Amazonia, Gil looks at the sea off São Gabriel da Cachoeira and joins with Sabrina Santos in a song about the destruction of the rainforest. She revels in her roots, but also enjoys being able to move between cultures and chides him when he blames the Catholic Church for causing so much trouble around the world by saying that it does nobody any good to hold grudges. In this spirit, Gil goes to one of the villages he helped connect online and sings about it being an upturned world. As the odyssey ends, he and Santos play `Raça Humana' on an empty stage.

Sketching in details of Gilberto Gil's remarkable career, this makes a fine companion piece to Marcelo Machado's Tropicália. But, while the 71 year-old is clearly enchanted by what he sees and hears across three continents, the excitement doesn't always reach the screen. The visuals are splendid and Camille Cottagnoud has a happy knack of capturing the look and feel of a place in a few images. Naturally, the music is also sublime. But Gil fails to get very far in his bid to show how music has always survived oppression and how the sounds of indigenous peoples has impacted upon the wider popular music of the new nation. Moreover, even though he is able to jam with artists from very different backgrounds, this seems to owe more to his own accomplished musicianship than any obvious links between the music they are playing, particularly where Aboriginal songlines are concerned.

What is less in dispute, however, is how white invaders have always sought to crush the cultures they found in order to facilitate conquest. But the sins of European imperialism and missionary Christianity are pretty well known, as is the shameful slowness with which these wrongs have been rectified. But this is hardly a new revelation and one wishes Gil had spent more time examining concepts like ubantu, with its deeply moving core belief `a person is a person because of other persons'.