Emma (Mathilda Paradeiser) joins an equestrian vaulting team where she meets the slightly older Cassandra (Linda Molin) and the two hit it off. Initially the older girl takes the beginner under her wing and they work on her technique. Soon, they’re hanging out together and building a giggly, conspiratorial intimacy.

There is a third she-monkey however: Emma’s six-year-old sister, Sara. While her elder sister takes advantage of her independence to hang around with her new friend, young Sara has her own preoccupations. Primarily the fact that she is in love with her teenage cousin Sebastian.

Both daughters live with their father, and any female involved in their existence is not mentioned. Not only is the mystery of the missing mother not addressed, but the audience is left to join the dots together throughout the film. She Monkeys (Apflickorna in Swedish, which translates as monkey girls) eschews conventional plot devices like backstory and even dialogue that would introduce us to the characters and give some clue to what exactly they are thinking and feeling. It is clear that Emma and Cassandra have become friends, but when the older girl says she loves her friend, it is less certain what kind of love this is.

Lisa Aschan, She Monkey‘s director and co-writer, told The Guardian that she “wanted every scene to be a duel.” Aschan went on to explain the film in terms of genre, “I see this film as a Western. I wanted to investigate how people behave together.” Not that Westerns presumably have the cinematic monopoly of looking at how humans interact, but competition is certainly woven into their very fabric.

If Aschan suggests we should make sense of Emma’s relationships with both Cassandra and her younger sister as dominated by a jostling for power, this is fairly subtle. One game Cassandra plays is to blindfold her friend and lead her around, finishing in the sea where she plops a jellyfish in her hands to see how she reacts. When Emma calmly decides to squish the creature, this must be the She Monkey‘s equivalent of a shot to the head in a shootout.

Less oblique, and more provocative, is the character of Sara. Played by Isabella Lindquist, Sara is endearingly guileless, and when this innocence runs up against the adult world, the results can be disquieting. One example happens at a swimming class where Sara is only wearing trunks and is told off by the teacher for not wearing a bikini top. Seeing this young girl covering her chest with her arms and becoming aware of the shame of nakedness is pitiable. In a later scene that boldly confronts her nascent sexuality, need for affection and  what is appropriate behaviour, Sara asks the object of her affections, Sebastian (Kevin Caicedo Vega), to scratch her tummy as he puts her to bed at night, much to his (and the audience’s) discomfort.

The whole film is shot in the lovely milky light of the Scandinavian summer. An overall aesthetic of pared-down Nordic minimalism is added to by a subtle electronic soundtrack and Lisa Aschan’s efforts to ensure that no brands or advertisements are visible.

In Sweden the critics have been going mad for the film, and it has also won a Silver Bear in Berlin, Best Narrative Feature at Tribeca as well as being nominated for the BFI’s Sutherland Trophy for “the most original and imaginative [first or second feature] film introduced at the National Film Theatre during the year”. Lisa Aschan has repeatedly said that she would rather ask questions than give answers. This is all well and good, but often it can be difficult to discern when – and what – questions are being asked. It’s certainly no The Good The Bad and the Ugly, but if it is a Western, it must be one of the most unusual ever made.

What the character, Mariana (played by Italian actress Antonella Costa), says is true about Absent too. The film does leave lots of room for interpretation on behalf of the reader and this is intriguing. However, having a character baldly mentioning your directorial approach, which most of the audience will already have have picked up on, indicates a lack of subtlety. Overall, however, intelligence outweighs the clumsiness to make for an engaging film.

Presumably set in Marco Berger’s home country of Argentina, though it could be almost any Spanish speaking country, Absent follows the complicated relationship between a 16-year-old student Sebastián (Carlos Echevarría) and his swimming teacher Martín (Javier De Pietro). One thing becomes certain fairly early on – the student has the hots for his teacher.

During a swimming lesson Sebastián says he has something in his eye. This means his teacher must take him to the doctor for an examination, he then explains he has nowhere to sleep the night, this ruse means he has to sleep at Sir’s flat. Over this night Berger steadily builds the tension about the extent of the student’s aims, and the extent to which his teacher either suspects anything, and more importantly, reciprocates. Sparsely employed music helps create this heady brew of tension and uncertainty.

When Sebastián gets up in the middle of the night and touches his sleeping teacher’s leg, we ask if this has this really happened or is it fantasy, and whose fantasy it is? The ambiguity about Sebastián and Martín’s true feelings continues longer after the fateful night has ended. Is Martín’s brooding borne of hate for his deceitful student or is it lust, and later, is he regretful or riven by guilt? The uncertainty continues until the very end as we continue to wonder whether the final scenes are a memory of what actually occurred or a wish-fulfillment fantasy? The audience is left guessing and the film is richer for it.

Unfortunately, there also those clunky moments. Martín, the teacher, phones his girlfriend before he has the boy to stay and, after a dubious-sounding exchange, she explains she can’t come over. This conveniently leaves him with young Sebastián. Now, of course, movie plots can take us in all sorts of unlikely directions, but they still have to be believable or at least seem natural. This plot twist is just too convenient for the rest of the story and feels forced. Later, towards the end of the film, a fatality occurs which also propels the plot forward just a bit too conveniently.

Despite this Absent is intelligent and intriguing. By the end of the film we are still left with no definite answers, but the satisfaction that we have been challenged and entertained in equal measure.

Absent is released on DVD on 9 April and priced at £14.99

Read our review of Marco Berger’s Plan B.

Fletcher’s name holds a lot of respect in the British film industry. He is an actor with an immense amount of big and small screen experience, so his directorial début was always going to be one to look out for. Although he doesn’t steer far from his comfort zone here, but we’ve got to say, despite Wild Bill‘s inoffensive and domestic approach, his move behind the camera has given us a light but thought-provoking film that is both engaging and funny.

Bill Hayward (Charlie Creed-Miles) comes home on parole after eight years in jail, to find his sons Dean (Will Poulter) and Jimmy (Sammy Williams) are fending for themselves, after their mother abandoned them for Spain. Dean, who has been working and raising Jimmy for the last nine months, blackmails his dad into sticking around long enough to get social services off their case.

Bill barely knows his kids and isn’t interested in staying, but as he immerses himself in the role of Dad, he begins to find he quite likes it. This is despite having the gang he went down for on his case. And with them now using his 11-year-old as a drug runner, Bill learns the hard way how to parent his kids, and stop them making the same mistakes he did.

The director is a veteran of acting in this genre, so it comes as no shock that he has lived up to this expectation behind camera. His first role was as Baby Face in the US hit, Bugsy Malone, a film that cast children as adult 1930s gangsters armed with custard filled splurge guns.  It was cheeky and fun. In a striking contrast to the role that started Fletcher’s career, the kids in Wild Bill are in a far more serious situation.

As it is, Wild Bill is nothing we haven’t seen before. The cast of characters are a standard staple of this genre. Bill is misguided and has a habit of getting himself into trouble, while the gangsters are a band of rough hoodlums who deal drugs. Alongside them is the promiscuous Roxy (Liz White), a woman with a good heart who has fallen in with a bad crowd. Even the two sons tick all the familiar boxes. Dean, despite his anger and no nonsense exterior, is a genuine and nice 15-year-old boy, who works hard to keep his brother’s life comfortable, while Jimmy is naive and easily led.

It’s the warm emotional message and the cast that make it a decent watch. Will Poulter (Son Of Rambow) and Sammy Williams draw much of the attention and are convincing in their roles as brothers, despite their young ages. Charlie Creed-Miles is also perfectly cast as their hapless father. In fact, the entire ensemble perform more than adequately in their limited roles.

Surprisingly the film isn’t quite the gritty, working class British snapshot we might expect in this urban setting. Fletcher has taken a fairly light-hearted approach to a genre that can take itself too seriously. Intended or not, the gangsters have hardly any menace about them. It felt at times like Andy Serkis‘s Glen and Leo Gregory‘s Terry were having a little bit too much fun pretending to be tough talkers. Although this won’t stop your heart skipping a beat every time you see Jimmy in trouble.

I was most impressed with the use of setting. The film takes place against the backdrop of the Olympic Park, and Dexter is making a clear comment about the state of the rich and poor in the capital. Dean works on the site, just one of the poor Londoners living alongside the billion pound project. That said considering the nature of the film, where children work for older hoodlums and carrying drugs, it perhaps isn’t a particularly favourable advertisement for the Games. But then the Olympians might see something to admire in the obstinate, quick-thinking spirit of these young people

Wild Bill is in UK cinemas from 23 March 2012.

If there’s one thing that can be said about Booked Out that I see as complimentary to any film, it’s that it’s profoundly weird, and writer/director Bryan O’Neil should wear this particular label with pride. Focusing on four people going in and out of a block of flats – an old lady in denial of her husband’s death, a severely depressed young woman, her regularly-visiting caretaker and a failing graphic novelist – it’s not your average blockbuster.

Thank god for that, because if it had been, not only would those characters have been stereotypes (Shia Lebouf would’ve had his foot in the door for the caretaker role almost immediately) but the entire film would’ve collapsed into cliché. As it is, the film is about four people dealing with their fears and growing with each other’s assistance, and the theme of community inherent to the plot is often heartwarming.

Largely, the story revolves around Ailidh (Mirren Burke), the aforementioned graphic novelist, and her romantic longing for Jacob (Rollo Weeks), the pleasant but quiet boy who arrives each morning to check up on Jacqueline (Claire Garvey, who we’ve interviewed here) – the depressed, seemingly housebound girl in the flat across the hall. Immediately there’s a love triangle that presents itself to the viewer, but it soon turns out to be a lot more complicated and, ultimately, more touching.

What I love about the film is that Burke’s character is the antithesis to the endlessly dependent, stupid, nervous girl in so many rom-coms. Confident, funny, and with her sights set on making things work with the boy that she has fallen for, it’s a refreshing change. Garvey’s Jacqueline is similarly different – her depression is not melodramatic, nor does it encourage apathy. Instead, both of them, along with an enjoyably nervous and awkward Weeks make for a range of characters that feel considerably more real than the action-adventure tripe I am so often accosted by whenever I sit down to watch a film.

I can’t go any further without mentioning Mrs. Nicholls, though. Played by the talented Sylvia Syms, she is no matriarch of the building. Instead, a heartbroken old woman whose only mental defence against the grieving process brought on by the death of her husband is to pretend he’s still there. It’s both sad and amusing, as Jacob is forced to help Ailidh and talk to a chair in French – a scene I recommend as it’s making me laugh even now, three days after seeing the film. Syms is sweet, and funny, and ultimately embodies what the rest of them do – eventually, it’s time to just let go.

There is the odd cliché, which I’d feel remiss not to mention, but they all seem to be concentrated into a scene in which Jacob and Ailidh converse in a cafe, talking about life. It does feel like a speed bump in an otherwise enjoyable journey, but I don’t think it does the film as a whole any major harm and is soon forgotten as the narrative begins to pick up the pace and personalities begin to clash in the claustrophobic, emotionally charged environment that O’Neil has created.

The plot is difficult to talk about without spoiling it, but there’s a couple of red herrings that had me thrown until they were revealed as such (I’m fairly gullible, however). But I will say this – despite going in thinking I was getting geekery (and there is some, don’t worry – anyone who’s seen the film only needs me to say “chipanda” to know what I’m talking about), I got romance, loss, longing, guilt and fear. It was an intense emotional rollercoaster that may challenge your cheeks to remain dry throughout, and it’s one that I’d advise you ride at least once. Arms and legs inside the ride at all times.

Oh, and the popcorn.

Update: The film goes on tour from March onwards – here’s the dates:

World Premiere at:

Prince Charles Cinema – London – Tuesday 6 March

Q&A Tour Dates:

Monday 12 March: Glasgow: Glasgow Film Theatre
Tuesday 13 March: Inverness: Eden Court
Wednesday 14 March: Stirling: MacRobert Arts Centre
Thursday 15 March: Edinburgh: Dominion
Friday 16 March: Newcastle: Tyneside Cinema
Saturday 17 March: Sheffield: Showroom Cinema
Tuesday 20 March: Birmingham: The Electric
Tuesday 27 March: Oxford: Ultimate Picture Palace
Date TBC: Sevenoaks: STAG Community Arts
Monday 2 April: London: Pheonix East Finchley
Sunday 8 April: Chichester: Chichester Cinema
Tuesday 10 April: London: Hammersmith Studios
Thursday 12 April: Guildford: Picture Palace
Wednesday 9 May: Kirkcaldy: Adam Smith Film Theatre

I’m well-versed in Smith cinema, and I’d say all of his work up to Red State has been easily identifiable. This time around, however, only a few lines of dialogue in the film struck me as typical of the New Jersey-born director known for crafting crude humour and talk-heavy cinema. There are short moments of humour, each an island in a sea of blood and religious extremism. Red State is not a film I’d recommend to those seeking yet another Smith comedy.

The main issue some viewers will run into is that there are little-to-no likeable characters. Everyone is either enacting immoral orders from a higher power, or acting in a way that renders them vile and unappealing. The plot, however, is a curious mix of Smith and serious cinema, and that’s what’s likely to keep you engaged after the initial fifteen minutes.

Three boys living in a southern state of the US have a Friday night plan – to meet a woman off the internet who has offered the school kids the opportunity to get a little intimate with her, all at the same time. This being Kevin Smith’s script, they are without reservation in how crude and single-minded they become, and this leads to their inevitable downfall. The woman – who happens to live on land owned by local Christian fundamentalists – turns out to be part of the group.

They’re Westboro. Let’s not mess around here. From the homophobic signs to the chanting, to their leader – Abin Cooper, played by the talented Michael Parks (of Kill Bill vols. 1 and 2, and From Dusk Till Dawn). At one point, government agent Keenan (John Goodman, of every film this incredibly talented man has been in) comments to his boss that “no, they’re not like Westboro,” but this feels like a get-out clause for a director who, thanks to Dogma, has already suffered death threats from religious individuals incensed by his parody of their beliefs and lifestyles.

Once these crazed individuals seize the boys, a police officer is shot and the government rolls in,  you’re torn between which faction to identify as the villain of the piece. But really, the only hero in the film is Keenan, the government agent torn between his orders and need for his salary, and his morality. Everyone else is perverted in some way, and their faults lead them straight to a dark finish, in short order.

It’s a hard film to discuss simply because it’s so negative and nothing good comes of the entire narrative, but that’s the point. It’s not supposed to highlight the good in the government, the pervy schoolboys, or the fundamentalists. It’s a tale of domestic terrorism and the flaws in character that will lead one to ruin if the wrong mistakes are made. If anything, it definitely proves that Smith has a whole lot of serious-story talent up his sleeve, and I look forward to other offerings from him in future without the religious undertones, just to see how well he does without dogma and his God-fearing childhood as a springboard.

The film follows Russell (Tom Cullen) a softly-spoken, likeable young chap over the course of a weekend. After a slightly boring house party at his (straight) best mate’s house, Russell heads off to a gay club to get properly pissed and pick some one up. The guy he ends up with is Glen (Chris New), an artist who records interviews with everyone he sleeps with, including Russell. The two hang out together for most of the rest of weekend, peaking with a long Saturday night of coke-fuelled conversation and a bit of sex.

Early on Glen explains that he is leaving on the Sunday to go and live in the US. This imminent departure creates a question hangs over the film and their relationship. The two men form a bond that could lead to something more than just a two night stand, but will it last and does it matter? The tension set up by the probability of imminent separation holds the film together satisfyingly.

Although still in his thirties, director Andrew Haigh is no stranger to film. He has made four shorts and one feature length movie (Greek Pete, about the year in the life of a London rentboy) and also worked for eight years as a film editor in London on films including Black Hawk Down, Gladiator and Mona Lisa Smile. The time he has spent building a story behind the camera and honing it in the editing suite are both evident in Weekend.

Haigh has said that Karel Reisz’s Saturday Night and Sunday Morning is a key influence. Starring Albert Finney, the film was of the earliest British kitchen-sink dramas of the 60s. According to Haigh, “its exploration of the ‘outsider’ battling the mainstream is a theme essential to both the queer experience and to the kind of stories I want to tell.” Both films are also set in Nottingham, cleave to a social realist attitude and feature working class protagonists working out who they are.

It’s undeniable that both characters in this romance are gay and they spend much of their time discussing gay concerns, but the film is more than simply a ‘gay film’. Haigh stays true to the kitchen-sink ethos of creating real characters. Both Russell and Glen are very much people that you could imagine meeting down the pub or at a party.

So, they get together and start to fall in love and argue and shag and we start, not just to like Glen and Russell, but like them together. Glen is angry and articulate, Russell is sweet-natured, but infuriatingly timid. They could both learn from each other, and possibly they do.

In America Weekend is being hailed as a cinematic saviour. After its screening at the Tribeca Film Festival in June, the New York Times film critic A.O. Scott said the film was ‘perfectly realised‘. That was after the positive response at South by Southwest in March. All this was just a foretaste of the love fest to come. By September, Mary Pols in Time magazine wrote the film was “one of the loveliest romances of the year” and then in October Bret Easton Ellis tweeted that Weekend was not only “a pretty remarkable movie anyway you look at it”, but “might be the greatest film about gay men ever made”.

In an essay in the New York Times Dennis Slim pointed out all the various pitfalls faced by so many gay films, or at least by films with gay story lines and characters. Not only are characters notoriously one dimensional, but their stories are often tragic. Not so with Weekend. Glenn and Russell are possibly more believable than Arthur Seaton, Finney’s character in Saturday Night and Sunday Morning. And while the film has a melancholy edge, it doesn’t veer into tragedy.

Part of the film’s attraction has to be Tom Cullen’s self-effacing character. Yes, he should stand up for himself and his sexuality, but he’s a delightful romantic who is hard to resist. The film compellingly plays out realities faced by gay men and gay artists, but the bitter-sweetness of a short relationship will resonate with young straight people too. Don’t believe the hype, but do go and see Weekend.

Read our interview with Andrew Haigh, Tom Cullen, and Chris New.

Set during the bloody final years of Apartheid rule, The Bang Bang Club follows the careers of these four young South African photo-journalists working in the townships as their country teeters on the edge of civil war. The based-on-fact film powerfully recreates the fraught political situation at the time, while sketching out the competing motivations, bonds and rivalries of the group.

Ryan Phillippe puts on a passable South African accent to play Greg Maronovich, the man on whose book the film is based and the film’s central character. He’s an apt choice as the slightly headstrong, intrepid rookie of the group. His colleagues include the skinny, long-haired, dope-smoking Kevin Carter (Taylor Kitsch), magnetic Ken Oosterbroek (Frank Rautenbach), and Portuguese João Silva (Neels Van Jaarsveld). Malin Åkerman plays Robin Comley, their picture editor at The Johanesburg Times and later Maronovich’s girlfriend.

All of them want to show the world the horrors taking place and win acclaim for their work. One of the men, sounding like a South African Robert Capa, advises Maronovich early on to “forget the long lens Bru, the stuff only looks good up close.” This could stand as the defining motto of the club. Getting close means endangering yourself, but hopefully coming up with pictures that don’t just look good, but define history. It might be a buzz doing it too.

Their early rivalry softens to friendship, a necessity in this toughest of environments: a poster on the wall of their favourite bar has an image of Picasso’s famous Guernica with the caption “A Civil War is Not Very Relaxing”. That puts it mildly. Over the course of the film it becomes clear that these guys are just too close to the action, a feeling that is later terribly borne out.

As well as the relationships of the group, the film shows us Maronovich’s journey from ballsy beginner to seasoned pro and Kevin Carter’s struggle with his demons. It’s probably fair to say that the characters of Oosterbroek and Silva not so fully realised. They are earnest and likeable, but somehow less distinctive than the ambitious young Maronovich or the troubled Carter.

The emotional heart of the film lies tapping the motives of these men. They are all moved by a burning moral outrage at the bloody injustices of the apartheid regime. As Kevin Carter explains of the photograph that wins him a Pulitzer prize, “a great picture asks a question, it’s not just a spectacle”, but he then returns to the fray from the relatively peaceful Sudan where he took the shot because “there’s no bang bang over there.” Getting published, winning prizes and risking your life are also a kick.

South African born director Steven Silver [read our interview with the director] stages the riots in the townships on a huge scale: fights featuring thousands of spear and gun wielding warriors facing off against each other to horrifying effect. He does an equally good job recreating some of the famous, and often gruesome, photographs the Club manage to capture.

The Bang Bang Club contains some strong performances and believably conjures up the high emotion of the times. It is all the more relevant now when we see similar images from Africa and Asia every time we open a newspaper. The film serves as a timely reminder of the physical and psychological damage inflicted on those who bring us these pictures.

Read our interview with Steven Silver, the director of The Bang Bang Club here.

Yusuf is an innocent Pakistani engineering student who moves into an Islamic centre/house share in Buffalo, New York State after getting fed up with the (presumably pissed up) antics of his fellow students in the college dorms. This student house is like no other however, they may be Muslims but they have a very unusual approach to their faith. These guys are Muslim punks or Taqwacores; Taqwa being the Arabic word for God-fearing or pure of heart (I’m sure a scholar could go on explaining it indefinitely), while the core comes from hardcore.

The walls of the house are covered in graffiti, punk posters, Islamic slogans and grime. “Is everyone here a Muslim?” asks Yusuf. “From a certain point of view” he’s told. The man who gives him this answer is Jehangir (played by Iranian-American actor Dominic Rains), a mohican hairdo and studded leather jacket wearing punk who is the character at the centre of the film. Jehangir is the spiritual force inspiring and voicing the questing spirit of the Taqwacores, he’s warm hearted, deeply concerned with his faith and not afraid to take a chance.

The rest of the house are no less interesting. There’s Fasiq, an American of Indonesian descent who is never seen without his hash pipe, and Amazing Ayyub, a wire thin joker who never wears a shirt, even in deepest winter. Rabeya wears an Afghan burkha she has doctored with patches and badges expressing her feminist and anarchistic sympathies. The more orthodox side of Islam is represented by Umar, a brick outhouse, straight edge, deadly serious kind of man who desperately tries to keep the house from descending into anarchy and his friends souls from ending up frying in the fires of hell. That’s just a few of them, and this disparate group would be the makings of a pretty wild drama even before Islam was added to the mix.

Rather than relationship trouble, funny capers or plans that go awry, much of the drama in the house is provided by debate. The Taqwacores is filled with fascinating discussion and philosophical rumination, and deepening of personal understanding drives the film along. But we’re not talking My Dinner with Andre here. The Koran, and possibly other Islamic scriptures, are quoted regularly – the characters see their lives in light of their faith, as Jehangir puts it “that was my jihad man. My struggle between me and my nuts.” So where do Mohicans and safety pins come into it? The characters’ restless, questioning vitality takes the form of punk.

Such story as there is revolves around the daring idea to hold a concert with all the Taqwacore bands. As well as a whole load of fun, this gig will give the guys the chance to wear their punk Islamic colours with pride and provide them with the challenge of accepting a broad variety of other interpretations. This means welcoming in ‘the hate mongers’,  a very stern, po-faced band called Bilal’s Boulder, who don’t approve of all this liberalism. This laugh-a-minute lot have to be invited or Jehangir and his friends will be shown to be as closed and narrow-minded as them.

Before the party, there are a couple of spiritual excursions. The group visit the local mosque to stand face to face with their God and Jehangir gives a very moving sermon before the Friday prayers. It is Jehangir’s speech which serves as the film’s manifesto: “Islam is a fuckin’ surrender…Allah is too big and open for my Islam to be small and closed.”

Directed by Syrian American Eyad Zahra, The Taqwacores is based on a 2004 novel by an American convert to Islam, Michael Mohammed Knight. Brought up a Roman Catholic with a father who used to beat him, Knight ran away to study Islam in Pakistan aged 17, but by the early 2000s felt stuck between the strict teachings he learned there, his American upbringing and the truth he felt existed in Islam. Writing The Taqwacores was his way to resolve it. The film might have some patchy acting in parts, although Dominic Rains is a magnetic Jehangir, but overall it does Knight’s vision justice. With only a small knowledge of Islam, I was shocked by some of the scenes. I can’t think of many films I’ve seen recently with such unusual and sympathetic characters. This could be the most punk film since Jubilee, and as far as the Islam goes – Allahu Alim (God only knows).

Read our interview with Dominic Rains and the director of The Taqwacores Eyad Zahra.

Kaboom follows a boy who has just arrived at college as he approaches his 19th birthday. It begins pretty much as you would expect from an independent film with the theme of sexual awakening. Think Bret Easton Ellis and the film adaptation of The Rules of Attraction. But it’s not as slick as that and the dialogue seems rather hackneyed. And then it gets weird.

In between having sex with various boys and girls, Smith (Thomas Dekker) the main character and his best friend, kooky lesbian Stella (Haley Bennett) start to notice some unusual things going on. The girl she is hooking up with is actually a witch with rejection issues who keeps psychically taking command of her body. Smith starts having  dreams where people in masks run around killing recurring characters in the dream. Smith, who describes himself as sexually ‘undeclared’ starts sleeping with London, played by Brit actress Juno Temple. She is, to use a quote from the film, ‘nuttier than squirrel shit’, as is the whole film really.

The overall feeling of the film was that it felt like a film student in their first year knocked it together and put in all the things they thought would make an edgy film – a blue tinge, sex on the beach between two men, threesomes, a general casual attitude to sex with vaguely indie music playing throughout. By the time the film moves towards its final twist I was bored and couldn’t care less what ridiculous thing was about to happen to the young and vapid cast.

To be fair I do feel that I may have totally misunderstood Kaboom, but I think you’ll understand where I’m coming from if this is your first Akari film. I am now off to find his back catalogue…

Buy the Kaboom [DVD] on Amazon

If you’re into the New-Burlesque (look it up on Wikipedia), you may like On Tour and if you don’t you may find it interesting, but not quite so much fun. It stars real life burlesque performers, including Dirty Martini and Mimi Le Meaux (what names!), who perform their acts for our delectation. Almaric told The Guardian that the stage performances were left up to them, while the off-stage sections were scripted. Using genuine burlesque performers might account for the slightly wooden acting. After all, a stunning turn on the stage with little more than a couple of ostrich feather fans for protection does not guarantee the ability to emote on camera.

The film is written and directed by, as well as starring, Almaric, who plays a weaselly spiv with a ridiculous moustache and a penchant for velvet suits. The man looks like he’s walked out of another era altogether. He’s a bit of a smoothy, but not quite trustworthy. The guy never stops smoking – that means never, even when he’s in a petrol station and visiting a friend with cancer in hospital. Slightly bulging eyes lead the girls to call him ‘frog’.

If the disastrous 1996 film Striptease is anything to go by, it’s difficult to make a successful film that involves women taking their clothes off on stage. Carl Hiassen’s hilariously over the top, satirical novel Strip Tease was turned into a humdinger of a movie. Like Striptease, this film also tries to go behind the scenes, but without getting encumbered in the cartoonish high jinks of political life.

On stage all is glitzy-glamour, but as we know, off stage is gritty reality. Joachim’s job involves making sure the girls don’t go to bed too late after a show so they can get up earlier enough to catch the train to the next venue, finding venues, tinkering with acts and arranging payment. Life is a string of hotel lobbies, long nights, booze, bad food, trains and more hotels. That makes it sounds a more interesting than it is – no one seems to get particularly drunk or lose the plot. Boredom of life on the road is apparently one of the film’s main themes.

Part of the trouble seems to be that we never really get to know the girls very well. Joachim drives off to Paris (a road trip with a train trip movie) to find a venue in the city and also pick up his children, but all this somehow isn’t very involving. Who knows how the performers got there or what their stories are? Almaric doesn’t seem to. He told the Guardian that this film focuses on ‘real’ burlesque which involves humour and intimacy and can be appreciated by both female and male audiences. This, he said, is different from the ‘glamorous’ burlesque of acts like Dita Von Teese who perform mostly for men.

For Almaric true burlesque is an “anger against time” and “a struggle against perfection”. These women certainly don’t have the size-zero bodies of Hollywood actresses or the teeny weeny perfection of Dita, and that must be a good thing. Their performances are also mind-blowing. However, the rest of the film is somewhat under dressed.

The film premiered at the 2010 Cannes Film Festival where it won the FIPRESCI Award, the festival’s main prize from film critics. Amalric also received the Best Director Award.

On Tour will be released on DVD on 25 April, 2011.