Sheffield DocFest — A–Z of films

Oscar shortlisted for Best International Feature and Best Documentary, this is an intense film with little respite even when no bullets are being fired.

Although this is a melancholic film there is hopefulness in friendship and tradition.

The film immerses us in the life of the city.

There’s a lack of depth in general.

Beyond being nailbiting - a feeling driven by Hyun Seok Kim’s ‘heartbeat’ score that quickens our own - Gavin’s film is also an eye-opener.

It’s tribute to the collaborative feel of this film that the documentary continually takes its lead from what Harris is saying rather than pushing him this way and that.

McGann poises her film between Stephen and Alessia’s story, rounding out the background with those who know them both and, in a nice bit of balance, both of their fathers.

Although the structure is offbeat, and the muscular scoring from Jonas Colstrup (The Square) emphasises the emotional rollercoaster, Fredriksson’s film remains empathetic to all concerned.

Deliberately resisting anything that might appear too straightforward or obvious, this somehow has the effect of making it seem peculiarly uncurious.

Beyond the stories that unfold within the vehicle, the tension of these journeys, often on dirt tracks in rural areas, is brought home.

There’s lot of video footage of her playing as a child, obviously very happy and doing the same kinds of things as any other kid her age.

Although its central perspective is rather simplistic, there’s so much packed in around the edges that quite different narratives emerge there, making for a complex and satisfying whole.

Something is most certainly gained from the presence of Richard himself, who has a vulnerability about him that you might not expect from a man who refused to be cowed by a largely middle-class, white establishment that stood in the way of his girls’ rise to fame.

This is a place of cleansing, not just of the body but so much more as this non-intrusive but immersive film gradually reveals.

Details leap out from the photographs, not just the faces of those she captured, but the twist of cigarette smoke, metal ashtrays recalling the tang of wet ash, plasters on scrubbed knees.

As its wryer, original title Tokyo Bicycle Festival suggests, Aoyagi’s film is never heavy-handed.

We’re so used to the flotsam and jetsum of angst, bad blood and rancour in the ocean of pop history, that the positive energy of the Wham! documentary feels as welcome as a summer breeze.

In addition to attacks from the outside, Shukla shows the erosion from within.

White Nanny Black Child strikes a reparative chord, but might leave the inquisitive viewer wondering about those at the periphery of the film

Viewers are likely to go away appreciating Aubrey’s frustrations and perhaps, if they share them, feeling validated, but without the tools to do anything about them.