Clayface

23/10/26

Cineworld, Edinburgh

DC’s ever more frantic attempts to revive its ailing superhero franchise takes an interesting turn with that most unlikely of things, a comic book movie with an 18 certificate. While it’s still set in Gotham City (with Liverpool standing in on this occasion), there’s not a caped crusader in sight, and not so much as a glimpse of spandex. The film takes a minor character that originated in a detective comic in1940 (and which was later featured in a Batman animation) and makes him the star turn. Well, Todd Phillips’ Joker took a similar approach and that reaped big rewards at the box office, so worth a punt, yes?

Very much so. This is the most fun I’ve had with a DC film in a very long time – though I should perhaps add that I’m using the word ‘fun’ loosely. More squeamish viewers may find themselves traumatised.

Our titular villain first appears as Matt Hagen (Tom Rhys Harries), a handsome young actor who (much like Harries himself ) appears to be on the verge of major stardom. All fired up after receiving an Oscar nomination, he heads off with his best friend, Corey (Joshua James), for a hedonistic weekend away and, on a disco dance floor, he encounters and romances Mia (Joana Ribeiro). But it turns out she’s the girlfriend of vicious crime boss, Markos (David Dencik), who takes a very dim view of this flirtation and, to teach Matt a lesson, decides to rearrange his face with a razor – a scene which pulls no punches.

Matt is snatched from the heights and plummeted into the depths of despair. With his handsome features mutilated, he loses his agent, Hildie (Nancy Carroll), and his manager, Frank (Eddie Marsan), in swift succession. Attempts at facial surgery are not successful. In desperation, Matt turns to Caitlyn Corr (Naomi Ackie), a scientist who has been working on a breakthrough nanite procedure which she believes can heal damaged skin cells. At first she’s reluctant to use her experimental techniques on Matt, but she can see that he’s desperate so, throwing caution to the wind, she starts some trials.

The first results are very encouraging, almost miraculous – but then Matt begins to realise that his new skin cells seem to react to his different moods. And when he’s angry…

With a screenplay by Mike Flanagan and Hossein Amini and astute direction by James Watkins, Clayface is compelling stuff. While it has no interest in exploring those comic book links, it does step confidently into the world of body horror. Some of the strongest sequences here recall the work of veteran directors like David Cronenberg and Brian Yuzna, utilising gnarly practical makeup effects and dollops of gore. An episode set in a public toilet on an airplane, which involves turbulence, fused eyelids and a pair of nail scissors, has me literally squirming in my seat.

As the story continues and Matt’s abilities develop to the point where he is able to replicate the features of other characters, I find I’m willing to overlook the fact that he can somehow also create perfect copies of their clothing (er, how, exactly?) because the twisty-turny sequences are so outrageous and so perfectly timed I barely have time to think about it.

A warning, though: that 18 certificate is there for a reason and it’s pushed to the limit.

4.3 stars

Philip Caveney

Ottolenghi Edinburgh

22/10/26

George Street, Edinburgh

We mainly know Yotam Ottolenghi from his Guardian food columns, where he publishes the kind of recipes we drool over, despite knowing we’re never going to attempt to cook them (the ingredients lists are long and intimidating; the processes time-consuming and complex). We’re not expecting to actually taste his food – he has restaurants in Geneva, Amsterdam and London, but none elsewhere in the UK. So when we hear he’s venturing north of the border and opening a new place in Edinburgh, we know it won’t be long before we try it out.

It’s a perfect Autumn day: the sky clear and blue, the air cold and crisp. We’re booked in for a late lunch, so we take our time walking from our Old Town tenement to the New Town, where Ottolenghi sits between two clothing shops, its windows vibrant and enticing. The interior is light and bright with splashes of red and yellow, a long central bar dominating the space. The ceiling is double height, with a mezzanine over the back third. It’s not exactly a calm environment but neither is it overwhelming. There’s just the right amount of buzz.

We’re quickly seated and given our menus, as well as an allergy guide (because I can’t have gluten). I’m pleased to see that there are lots of dishes I can eat. While we consider our options, we order drinks: an alcohol-free cherry Americano for me and a 0% Cold Town lager for Philip. They both slip down very nicely.

We opt to share a single portion of the starter selection, which comprises six little dishes: roasted peperonata; miso butter bean mash with kalamata olive preserve; Fasolakia beans with feta cream; cucumber achar; burnt aubergine; and beetroot with cherry and sour cream. Neither of us likes the burnt aubergine, but the rest of it is delicious, especially the beetroot and Fasolakia. There’s a nice mix of the creamy and the acidic but, while Philip is able to slather the various dips onto a delightful flatbread, there’s no gluten-free equivalent available for me, which diminishes the experience somewhat.

For our main, we have one of the menu’s ‘claypot sharers’ – a lamb and aubergine rice pie, served with chopped dill pickle. This is an absolute triumph. Essentially a pimped-up shepherd’s pie, it consists of a richly flavoured lamb, lentil and aubergine filling, topped with rice, pecorino cheese and sour cream. It’s comfort food dialled up to eleven.

The pudding menu looks appealing but only two of them are available to me. No matter: I’m sold on the idea of the miso clotted cream fudge, and as happy as Larry (whoever he is) nibbling on the five pieces of sweet, salty goodness that come my way. Philip selects a kumquat marmalade steamed pudding, served with a delectably light sabayon. He declares it the star of the show and eats it slowly, savouring every mouthful, not wanting the pleasure to end.

Executive chef Neil John Campbell can be proud of what he’s achieved here, and so can the front of house staff, who are all friendly and attentive in a relaxed, authentic way. When we enthuse about our main course, we’re informed that the recipe is in Ottolenghi’s latest cookbook, Simple Too – and that all the dishes in this book are, as the title suggests, relatively easy to make. We waste no time in buying a copy.

And then we leave, replete and satisfied, back out into our beloved city. I can’t think of a better way we could have spent this afternoon.

4.6 stars

Susan Singfield

Tristan & Yseult

21/10/26

The Royal Lyceum Theatre, Edinburgh

We’re taking our seats in the Lyceum and the place appears to be full of train spotters – well, no, ‘Love Spotters’ to be more accurate, as one of the balaclava-clad members informs us. He’s one of ‘The Unloved,’ who even have their own nightclub in which to bewail their plight. It turns out that every member of the twelve-strong cast takes a turn in these hallowed ranks, slipping in and out of costume so cleverly that I’m sometimes convinced that there are actually many more actors than listed in the programme.

Emma Rice and Kneehigh have reinvented their original 2003 production of Tristan & Yseult and the fruits of their collaboration race, dance and leap across the stage like wonderful mirages conjured from a fever dream. Based around a 12th century Cornish myth, T&Y tells the story of two star-crossed lovers and, like most myths from that era, it’s batshit crazy.

But here it is in a nutshell: Prince Tristan (John Leader) saves the life of King Mark of Cornwall (Edward Rowe) by defeating the Irish night Morholt (Tom Fox) in battle. The Irish are attempting a full scale invasion of Cornwall, so I guess that’s fair enough? Mark then sends Tristan (who has been badly wounded) to Ireland in order to collect Morholt’s daughter, Yseult (Nandi Bhebhe), who Mark now intends to marry. What could possibly go wrong?

On the journey back, the two leads mistake a bottle of wine for a powerful love potion (as you do) and… well, it gets complicated.

Got that? Good, because now you can pretty much forget about it and just enjoy the dazzling vigour and the off-the-charts level of invention employed to depict the ensuing chaos. What we are offered is a feast of wild dance routines, breathless fights, circus skills, knockabout humour, moments of heart-stopping drama, dazzling lighting effects and stirring musical interludes. The hefty running time seems to evaporate as the action unfolds and I just sit there, utterly spellbound.

Every now and then, I’m able to appreciate particular elements of this intricate human mosaic: Bhebe’s astonishing vocal range; Leader’s incredible athleticism; Fox’s perfectly judged comic asides – and I also particularly enjoy Matthew Churcher’s depiction of Mark’s henchman, Frocin, as he attempts, ever more desperately, to capture the respect of his King.

We’ve long had a soft spot for Emma Rice but this shows her at the height of her powers. The late Bill Mitchell’s original set and costume designs have been ‘refreshed’ by Vicki Mortimer and hats should be raised to choreographer Etta Murfitt, who sets this wonderfully inventive piece into constant motion.

The standing ovation that greets this magnificent production is heartfelt and exuberant, and my advice is to get yourselves down to the Lyceum before this wonder packs up its bags and sets sail for new destinations.

5 stars

Philip Caveney

Bottom’s Dream

20/10/26

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

Bottom’s Dream is the last of this season’s A Play, A Pie and A Pint productions (boo!) but, as final flourishes go, this one is rather fabulous (hurrah!).

Writer/performer Martin O’Connor plays Nick Bottom. You know the one: Shakespeare’s rude mechanical, the amateur player who’s turned into an ass for the fairies’ amusement, the butt of all the jokes. In this iteration, he’s still a weaver and wannabe actor, but it’s 2026 and he lives in Glasgow. Oh, and he speaks in iambic pentameter. In Scots.

The monologue opens at an audition, where Bottom is trying out for Hercules. He doesn’t know the protocol; heck, he’s not even sure how to pronounce the character’s name. Still, what he lacks in experience, he makes up for with enthusiasm. He’ll give anything a go if they’ll offer him a chance. But there’s the rub: they won’t. He doesn’t fit the industry’s idea of an actor. The only parts he’s cast for are junkies and thugs.

O’Connor imbues Bottom with both a weary dignity and a righteous anger, illuminating his frustration with a world that pigeonholes him as a tradie and blocks him from fulfilling his dreams. He’s proud of his work – there’s a gloriously lyrical section about weaving as the bedrock of language and art – but he doesn’t want to be reduced to it. He attends acting lessons, but he doesn’t fit in with his middle-class peers, who assume he got his place because he “ticked a box” (as if they’re not there because they tick all the invisible boxes). Why are there so many obstacles?

Debbie Hannan’s direction keeps everything building. By the time we get to his end-of-term showcase, we’re fully invested in Bottom’s dream – and devastated for him when it all goes wrong. There’s a lot resting on the performance: the grande dame of casting agents, Titania Peaseblossom, has deigned to leave London for her native Glasgow in order to offer feedback to the students. Bottom is disappointed to have been cast as a donkey, but he tries to make the most of it, desperately pushing himself further and further into the role. He gives it his all.

To no avail. No one gets it. They think he’s ridiculous. So ridiculous, in fact, that one of his classmates films him and posts a clip online. He goes viral – and not in a good way. He’s meme fodder.

But it takes a lot to keep Bottom down. Working-class actors don’t have many routes in – and it turns out being a social media ass can open doors. There’s a lot of snobbery about influencers and reality TV celebs, but there aren’t many other ways in for the dispossessed, for those aspiring creatives with neither family money nor industry connections. O’Connor’s bravura one-man performance illustrates just how un-level the playing field is, and how the working-classes often have to abase themselves to get a foot on the first rung.

There’s a lot to this play. The script is clever, combining wit with sharp political commentary. And in the end, Bottom roars loud enough to “do any man’s heart good to hear [him].”

4.5 stars

Susan Singfield

Whalefall

19/10/26

Cineworld, Edinburgh

As high-concept movies go, Whalefall is right up there with the highest of them. It’s hardly a spoiler to say that this is a story about a guy who gets swallowed by a whale. Based on the bestselling novel by Daniel Kraus (and inspired, I suspect, by the story of Pinocchio), this is a gruelling, claustrophobic tale of survival against all the odds. Whether such a thing is actually possible is hard to say – to my knowledge, nobody has ever managed to escape from the belly of such a beast – but director Brian Duffield (who co-wrote the screenplay with Kraus) does make it all feel horribly plausible.

The guy in question is Jay Gardiner (Austin Abrams, an actor clearly on a roll since working with Zach Creggar on Weapons). Abrams is likeable enough to make us care about Jay’s fate and to identify with him in the film’s early scenes, where he’s mourning his seafaring father’s suicide. Mitt (Josh Brolin) was an Alpha-male, forever pushing his son to ‘grow up’ and ‘be a man’ but Jay has always kept a cautious distance from his macho influence. Grief and a sense of lost opportunities motivate him to don a wetsuit and an oxygen tank and swim out to the area where Mitt was last seen, looking for answers.

Which is when a sperm whale comes along, mouth wide open, chasing a giant squid…

I’ve never been inside a whale (I know this will come as a surprise to many) but the cramped pulsating chambers of the whale’s gut depicted here feel all too believable and the fact that Jay’s oxygen supply is running out is apparent from the very start. Inside the whale, Jay recollects his father’s teachings and it begins to dawn on him (and us) that any hope of escape from his situation depends entirely on Mitt’s rambling observations from across the years… oh, and did I mention that the giant squid is also in the same space and still very much alive?

Weighing in at one hour and forty-six minutes, Whalefall manages to keep me in its tentacle-like grip for the film’s duration – indeed, at times, I’m actually holding my breath as an already bad situation grows steadily worse. Abrams, who recently went through hell in Resident Evil ,goes through an entirely more realistic hell here, while Brolin proves once again that he’s capable of making the most unsympathetic character likeable.

While I remain unsure as to whether the story’s resolution is possible, it’s expertly handled and I leave the cinema feeling that I have just undergone the equivalent of a storm-tossed odyssey, with a side helping of emotional distress.

This isn’t exactly a feelgood film, but its conclusion is weirdly uplifting after all the trauma that’s just played out. Now excuse me while I cross ‘swimming with whales’ off my bucket list.

4.2 stars

Philip Caveney

Hadestown

18/10/26

Dominion Cinema, Edinburgh

For a very long time now, my musical-mad daughter has been urging us to check out Hadestown, declaring it to be ‘the best musical ever.’ Of course, seeing it would necessitate a trip to that London and the eye-watering cost of a couple of seats in the West End, so this cinematic release, featuring the original Broadway cast, really couldn’t come at a better time. As ever, the Dominion cinema offers the most luxurious surroundings for watching it.

Based on the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice, this two-act musical is set in the titular town, situated somewhere on the railway line to hell. (As any estate agent will tell you, location is everything.) The place has an energetic nightclub feel with a superb live band fully integrated into the action. Our master of ceremonies is Hermes (André De Shields), an elderly gentleman who never allows his years to get in the way of his spectacular vocal abilities. He introduces us to the various players. Orpheus (Reeve Carney) is a humble barman and musician, who has a winning way with a song, while Eurydice (Eva Noblezada) is a wandering woman seeking refuge and a place to belong. Orpheus is, of course, instantly smitten with her.

Then there’s the high-spirited Persephone (Amber Gray), enjoying her annual holiday from her all-powerful husband, Hades (Patrick Page). She loves him but he can be rather demanding. Persephone is all ready to kick up her heels and make a song and dance about her short-lived liberation. But wouldn’t you just know it, Hades unexpectedly drops by for a quick visit and his avaricious gaze falls upon Eurydice – and pretty soon she’s taking that downward journey to the Underworld…

Everybody knows the central story and its sad conclusion, so it’s to this production’s credit that it all feels so fresh, so spirited, so unfettered. With both book and blues-inflected songs by Anais Mitchell, this takes off at a gallop and never falters, delivering a mix of uptempo belters and soaring ballads with absolute authority. Carney’s lilting falsetto offers genuine thrills and he’s nicely contrasted with Page’s deep baritone, which is particularly effective on Why We Build the Wall – a song with eerie connotions to Trump’s America, even though this show originated way back in 2006 and had a long, slow transition to its first Broadway run in 2019.

It’s clear from glimpses of the spellbound audience at this recent reunion that Hadestown’s audience is predominantly young and that they are avidly hooked on every detail, applauding exuberantly when Page manages a dance routine despite the orthopedic boot he’s wearing after a recent accident. Choreographer David Neumann has the whole cast leaping and whirling with precision across the crowded stage and special mention should be made of the three Fates (Bella Brown, Madeline Charlemagne and Allie Daniel), who all have voices to beat the band. Rachel Hauck’s ingenious set, which makes full use of its circular design really comes into its own during the centrl couple’s journey through the underworld.

The only real criticism I have of this filmed version, directed by Brett Sullivan, is the absence of an interval between the two acts, which means that those in need of a quick toilet break do risk missing a few minutes of the action before they can get back to their seats. But that’s a minor niggle. Hadestown is an exquisite, inspired and downright thrilling musical experience that revitalises a familiar story – and it’s easy to see why it has acquired such a devoted following.

While I hesitate to agree with my daughter that this is the ‘best ever’, it’s certainly up there as a contender and I’m really glad she put me on to it – and if it shuffles its way into a cinema near you, don’t miss your opportunity to see it.

5 stars

Philip Caveney

Whirlybird

15/10/26

Victoria Street, Edinburgh

We’re halfway through painting our kitchen. It’s not a difficult job (we have a small kitchen and a banging playlist) but there are two negatives:

  1. The flat feels messy with all our kitchen stuff cluttering up the living room; and
  2. It’s difficult to cook.

If only we lived in a foodie city with lots of options for a decent lunch.

Oh, wait…

Of course, we have our go-to favourites but today we feel like trying somewhere new. Whirlybird has been popping up on our TikTok and Instagram feeds so we decide to check it out. Predictably, we’re not the only ones who’ve caught the social media hype, so – even on a dull October weekday afternoon – the restaurant is busy and we can’t see any spare seats. No matter, it’s bigger than it looks, with a spiral staircase winding up to two further (and just as stylish) dining rooms, all warm tones and exposed stone.

The staff are friendly and knowledgeable, reassuringly matter-of-fact about gluten-free options. We order drinks (a ‘Nae’ alcohol-free pale ale for Phil, from Leith’s Newbarns Brewery and a Bon Accord rhubarb soda for me) and begin to peruse the menu.

We’re focused on the ‘lunch favourites’ section because neither of us wants a heavy meal in the middle of the day (we’ve still got painting to do). I opt for the brûléed goat’s cheese with heritage beetroot, pickled pear, a balsamic reduction and pecans. I also order a side of chicken-salt fries, while Phil goes for the chargrilled chicken, which comes with fries already included, as well as sourdough, feta, poached plum, jalapeno and mint.

I enjoy my meal. The goat’s cheese is thick and creamy, the flavour enhanced by the charring (or brûléeing). The beetroot and pear complement it well. The chicken-salt fries are delicious – and very necessary, as I think I’d be hungry without them.

Philip gets a lot more bang for his buck; indeed, all of the other lunches we see are more substantial than the goar’s cheese. The chicken is succulent. the feta punchy and the poached plums “just perfect.”

All in all, we’re very happy with our lunch. Whirlybird is a rare creature, managing to be “quietly Scottish,” understated and authentic, despite its tourist-trap location on Edinburgh’s most photogenic street.

In that same vein, it’s time for an Honourable Munchion. Our way home takes us through the Grassmarket, so of course we have to stop at Mary’s Milk Bar for a scoop of the city’s finest ice cream (pumpkin and berry jam for me; cherries and cream for Phil).

Some places go viral for good reason.

Now, where’s my paintbrush?

4 stars

Susan Singfield

Contact

13/10/26

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

Play number three of the Traverse’s current PPP season is top-notch: a taut two-hander about a complex mother-son relationship.

Although the subject matter is serious – covering generational trauma and domestic violence – it’s served with a generous helping of playwright Jonny Donahoe’s trademark wit, so that there is plenty of light to make the shade palatable.

Blythe Duff plays Mother, a lonely Gen X-er with a tough protective layer of sarcasm and defensiveness. Her Gen-Z son (Mark Barrett) is fed up of her constant needling so he issues her an ultimatum. His wife is pregnant and he wants things sorted before his child is born. Otherwise, he’ll never see his mum again.

Mother reluctantly agrees to a weekly meeting, although she finds it hard to open up in the way he wants her to. She’s all for (metaphorically) sweeping things under the carpet and (literally) burning old photographs; meanwhile, he wants to take her to task about the way her parenting has shaped him, to talk about his abusive father and the myriad ways Mother has always let him down.

They’re both in therapy but it doesn’t really seem to help. Maybe they need to go together instead of separately. As it is, Mother’s counsellor tells her Son has stifled her potential, while Son’s mentor has instigated this all-or-nothing plan. It doesn’t seem as if there’s any way through.

The humour comes from Mother’s unfiltered sniping. “You’ve put on weight,” she tells him – and that’s the nicest thing she says. No wonder Son thinks she’s brutal and uncompromising. But Duff’s nuanced performance allows the audience to see more: a brittle, damaged woman, just trying to survive.

The writing is superb, presenting a thorny situation without pretending there is an easy answer (or, indeed, any answer at all). Director Ben Standish keeps things simple, allowing the dialogue to do the work. I like the contrast between the abstract style of the confrontations and the hyper-realistic ending, perfectly complemented by Gillian Argo’s set design.

Contact is a compelling, provocative play – and an ideal fit for the one-hour lunchtime slot. Catch it if you can!

4.6 stars

Susan Singfield

The Social Reckoning

11/10/26

Cineworld, Edinburgh

Sixteen years after The Social Network, this belated (sort of) sequel takes another look at the Facebook phenomenon. David Fincher’s original was a zippy, fast-paced affair, but The Social Reckoning is a much darker beast, one that carries with it a powerfully pessimistic view of online media and asks some uncomfortable questions about its potential future. Original screenwriter Aaron Sorkin takes on the directorial duties and Jeremy Strong steps gamely into a role that Jesse Eisenberg clearly had no wish to revisit. Where the first film’s depiction of Mark Zuckerberg has him as a plucky but flawed underdog, here he’s just plain weird, a man completely fixated on his brainchild and its ratings, with no apparent concerns for any harm it might be causing to the billions of people that use it.

Someone who is concerned is Facebook employee Frances Haugen (Mikey Madison), who in 2019 joins the Civic Integrity Programme, truly believing in FB’s potential as a democratic mouthpiece. She is appalled to discover that a former friend, Kayleigh – once a carefree, like-minded young woman – is now an active member of a far-right group that she discovered on the site. (We’ve been introduced to the new Kayleigh in the film’s opening sequence, shouting vehement racist abuse at the Black and Latina police officers who come to her aid after her car breaks down.)

The more Frances searches for answers the worse things get, and her attempts to discuss the matter with her colleagues are given short shrift. She ends up contacting Wall Street Journal Investigative Reporter, Jeff Horwitz (Jeremy Allen White), who is currently looking into the website’s fact-checking procedures.

Frances is at first determined to keep her involvement with the newspaper secret but, as the years steadily march by, moving through the global pandemic towards 2021’s violent insurrection at the White House, Frances begins to realise that she is going to have to stick her head above the parapet in order to make herself heard…

While this misses Fincher’s visual command, it does feature Sorkin’s clever and distinctive dialogue, which – while it might bear little resemblance to real conversation – provides plenty of ironic chuckles and edgy asides. Allen White plays his role straight, a guy so unfamiliar with the digital age he can’t even use his car’s satnav, while Madison delivers an impressive study of the nervy, self-conscious Frances, slowly emerging from her self-protective shell.

There’s also a wonderful sequence where the news of the invasion of the White House plays out on dozens of screens while everybody in FB HQ is begging Zuckerberg to suspend the President’s account – but he really, REALLY has to think about it for a very long time before complying.

This is an uncompromising and well-intentioned film with a powerful message at its core – and I’m all too aware of the ironic fact that, once I’ve finished editing this review, Facebook will be the first place it’s shared. But Sorkin does ask some terrifying questions about Social Media and where it’s doing to us.

4 stars

Philip Caveney

The Uprising

10/10/26

Cineworld, Edinburgh

Director Paul Greengrass has established his considerable reputation with a series of action films based around relatively recent events – so it’s an unusual choice for him to head into the dim and distant past for inspiration. But The Uprising, a gritty, mud-splattered account of the Peasant’s Revolt (Greengrass also wrote the screenplay) features all his signature moves, replete with propulsive and immersive set-pieces shot in that unmistakable ‘shaky-cam’ style.

It’s 1381 and ‘Merrie England’ is down in the dumps after a plague that has halved the population and a series of overseas wars that are costing King Richard II (Woody Norman) an absolute packet. He’s only fourteen years old and, when we first encounter him, he’s being haunted by nightmares of something bad approaching. When it comes to ruling, he leaves most of the big decisions to his advisors, who are led by Treasurer Hales (Tom Hollander). Looking to raise some ready funds, Hales eschews the idea of going to the nobles for a handout (they’re sure to kick up a fuss) and decides instead to impose a poll tax on the commoners. (I know, I know, quelle surprise.)

One such commoner is ‘Ploughman’ (Andrew Garfield), who has recently lost his wife and two children to the plague and is feeling pretty desolate. He’s reluctant to give away any more of the pittance he’s earning. When armed men come to his village demanding money (and threatening to take wives away to use as prostitutes when their husbands can’t find any spare dosh), something inside Ploughman snaps – and it turns out he can be pretty handy with that hooked scythe he carries with him. The armed men are quite literally cut down to size and it isn’t long before Ploughman is being followed by lots of other disgruntled commoners. Soon they have joined up with a bigger band of travellers, led by former soldier, Wat Tyler (Cosmo Jarvis), and seditious monk, John Ball (Jamie Bell). The ever-growing tribe marches towards London, where they aim to present their demands to The King…

The Uprising is a grimy, dingy affair that paints a picture of a nation betrayed by the ruling classes. It’s rather worrying that the ensuing events feel so familiar and that the mounting anger and savagery – and the ultimate betrayal suffered by those seeking justice – feels somehow inevitable. But Greengrass manages to milk the events for every bit of tension they contain and the climactic confrontation has me holding my breath as it builds to a thrilling climax.

While this is a story dominated by its male protagonists, there’s also a compelling turn by Thomasin McKenzie as Alyce, a young woman with her own reasons to harbour resentment towards her despotic rulers, and from Katherine Waterston as Richard’s mother, who conveys the woman’s inner conflict through a series of glacial expressions.

While this can hardly be described as an uplifting couple of hours at the cinema, it’s nonetheless a gripping (and, according to Wikipedia, pretty accurate) account of a historical event that for most of us has been allowed to drift into obscurity. But you’ll doubtless leave the cinema reflecting, as I do, that similar iniquities have been allowed to transpire again and again across the centuries and that it’s always the have-nots who are destined to pick up the tab.

This is hard, relentless cinema but Greengrass is an accomplished director who knows exactly what he wants to say and doesn’t hesitate to ram his message home with the impact of a medieval battering ram.

4.2 stars

Philip Caveney