Maybe Tomorrow

14/10/25

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

“Glamour and strife! Bigger than life!”

Siân Silver (Liz Ewing)’s showbiz career is careering towards the end of Sunthorpe-on-Sea’s dilapidated pier, where the seventy-five-year-old singer is gamely touting her outmoded razzle-dazzle to ever-smaller audiences for a measly £250 a week. It’s a long way from the stardom she dreamed of, but at least she’s still on stage, performing – until the theatre manager tells her she’s no longer required. Siân doesn’t know who she is if she’s not sparkling in the spotlight. What’s left when even the dregs she’s settled for are so cruelly stripped away?

Forced to confront her failure, Siân is visited by the ghost of Siânny past (Julia Murray). Young Siânny is brimming with hope and vitality, urging her future self to embody the spirit of her long-time heroine, Little Orphan Annie. Instead of bemoaning her hard-knock life, Siânny thinks Siân should focus on making the most of the years she has left. “Maybe now it’s time…”

At first, Siân’s having none of it but she soon realises she has nothing to lose. Why not step into the plucky red-head’s ankle socks and Mary Janes? After all, why should little girls have all the fun? The role of Annie is wasted on a ten-year-old! If she has to bow out, then she’ll do it on her own terms…

Written by Hannah Jarrett-Scott with music and lyrics by Brian James O’Sullivan, Maybe Tomorrow is a decidedly quirky piece of musical theatre, rife with heart and humour. The songs work well, paying homage to Charles Strouse’s original score without allowing it to overwhelm this play. Under Lesley Hart’s direction, Ewing shines as the protagonist (and not just because of her sequinned costumes), imbuing the fading performer with pathos. Siân is talented but unappreciated: of course she’s resentful; of course she’s angry at her producer-ex, who promised her centre-stage but left her in the wings. Murray provides excellent support, not only as the vivacious Siânny, but also as a series of minor male characters, with an impressive range of hats, accents and, um, farts.

An ageing Annie-fan myself, I enjoy this show immensely. It’s undeniably absurd, but somehow rather beautiful. It feels like the start of something that could easily evolve into a full-length musical production, where both themes and characters would have more space to breathe. Why not pop along to the Traverse this week and see for yourself? “You’re gonna have a swell time.”

4 stars

Susan Singfield

The Lost Bus

13/10/25

Apple TV+

A new release from Paul Greengrass is always worth further investigation, even though The Lost Bus, financed by Apple TV+, was only granted a fleeting cinematic release, so we’re obliged to catch it via streaming. Loosely based on a true story, it’s centred around the 2018 Camp Fire – a strangely innocuous name for what was actually the deadliest fire in Californian history, which claimed the lives of 84 people and destroyed hundreds of homes.

Matthew McConaughey, looking like a walking personification of the word ‘grizzled’, plays Kevin McKay, a down-on-his-luck school bus driver, based in the ill-named town of Paradise. Struggling to look after his invalid mother, separated from his wife and failing to communicate with his teenage son, Shaun (Danny McCarthy), Kevin has acquired something of a bad reputation. He is the driver who’s always running late, who often fails to fill out in his paperwork on time, and who’s constantly at odds with his dispatcher, Ruby (Ashlee Atkinson).

But when a deadly wildfire erupts in the California hills and high winds disperse the flames across a wide area, a class of twenty-two children and their teacher, Mary (America Ferrara), find themselves stranded at their elementary school. Ruby puts out a desperate call for someone to go to their aid – and the only person available to collect them is Kevin.

Sensing an opportunity for redemption, he heads for the school and picks up his passengers. But getting them to safety is no easy matter…

Greengrass sets out his stall from the opening scenes, presenting the fire’s inception. An electrical cable, pulled from a high tower by the rising wind, ignites the surrounding brush. From that point onwards, the blaze is presented as a hungry predator, rushing back and forth across the landscape, searching out its next target. It’s an inspired approach to the subject, one that inspires dread.

Just one day after watching the terrifying A House of Dynamite, I find myself once again plunged headlong into the realms of Stressville. But this being a true story, I can at least have the reassurance that there’s going to a happy ending… right?

Greengrass, who co-wrote the screenplay with Brad Inglesby, certainly keeps me guessing for a lot longer than is comfortable. His expert handling of the wildfire scenes, fuelled by Pål Ulvik Rokseth’s immersive cinematography, makes for exhilarating viewing as Kevin steers his rickety bus through what increasingly resembles the seventh circle of hell. (Note: no children were harmed in the making of this film. Honestly.)

McConaughey and Ferrara make an interesting chalk-and-cheese double act and, while some of the kids are allowed to be cute, they are never too shmaltzy. My only niggle is with the dialogue from the scenes featuring the fire team who are trying to handle the disaster, which veers uncomfortably close to exposition – but that’s a nitpick. The steadily mounting chaos keeps me on tenterhooks for the film’s entire two-hour running time.

All in all, this is an assured piece of action filmmaking, which highlights many of Greengrass’s distinctive hallmarks. I just wish I’d had an opportunity to view it on the big screen.

4.2 stars

Philip Caveney

A House of Dynamite

12/10/25

Filmhouse, Edinburgh

It’s been quite some time since we saw anything from Oscar-winning director Kathryn Bigelow, but A House of Dynamite signals an auspicious return to the fray. This Netflix-financed epic will be streaming soon, but meanwhile it’s been granted a limited theatrical release. It’s big, glossy and features a host of well-known actors in relatively small roles, in a whole series of convincingly-recreated sets. It’s also one of the most utterly terrifying films I’ve ever seen.

At Fort Greely, Alaska, Major Daniel Gonzalez (Anthony Ramos) and his team detect the unannounced launch of an intercontinental ballistic missile, heading towards the United States. Moments later at the White House Situation Room in Washington DC, Captain Olivia Walker (Rebecca Ferguson) sees the incoming projectile on a giant screen and watches appalled as the terrifying statistics unreel. The missile’s current trajectory has it aimed squarely at the city of Chicago and – if unimpeded – in just eighteen minutes’ time, millions are going to die.

An attempt can be made to intercept the missile in the air but, as one observer comments, it will be “like trying to hit a bullet with a bullet.” And, should that fail, the only thing to be determined is the severity of the response. With no country claiming responsibility for the launch – indeed both Russia and North Korea are denying it – the decision must lie entirely with the POTUS (Idris Elba), who is in the middle of making a speech to a high school basketball team somewhere in the city.

And that eighteen minutes is ticking away…

Anyone expecting an exciting drama where a lantern-jawed hero runs athletically into view with a perfectly-timed maverick plan to save the world is going to be severely disappointed with A House of Dynamite. This is simply not that film. Instead, it’s the kind of story you watch with clammy palms as the threat steadily rises: the kind where you begin to realise that there really isn’t going to be any way of evading the devastating conclusion. There will be not scenes of relieved people hugging each other and fist-pumping beneath the Stars and Stripes as they realise the threat has been miraculously defused.

Instead we have human beings staring into the abyss as they see their hopes and dreams turning to smoke. And the realisation that this is the world we now live in, where one mistake can have cataclysmic consequences. Writer Noah Oppenheim opts to show the same eighteen minutes of the missile’s trajectory from three different perspectives. It’s only in the final third that we actually get to see the POTUS, as it dawns on him that he is going to have to select his country’s response to the situation from a handy booklet presented to him by an aide – a sort of IKEA manual for disaster – and that the repercussions of that decision will live with him forever. (Despite his helplessness, I find myself wistfully wishing that Idris Elba actually were the President of the US instead of the man who currently has his hands on the nuclear codes…)

This is a tough watch. I honestly cannot remember being so profoundly affected by a film since I first saw Peter Watkins’ film, The War Game, back in 1966. While I cannot in all honesty claim to have enjoyed watching A House of Dynamite, I believe it’s an important and brilliantly-directed film, with a powerful and important message at its core. I would urge everyone to see it and have a long, hard think about the awful truth it clarifies: that we as a species have built the unstable dwelling of the title – and that we are forever doomed to live with that knowledge unless we do something to change it.

5 stars

Philip Caveney

Urchin

11/10/25

Cineworld, Edinburgh

Actor Harris Dickinson makes an assured directorial debut with this intriguing story, which concentrates on the misadventures of young man called Mike. Frank Dillane gives a beguiling performance in a role that has already won him the Un Certain Regard prize at this year’s Cannes Film Festival. Dickinson also wrote the screenplay, which immediately evokes my sympathy for its troubled, self-destructive protagonist.

The film opens with Mike wandering the streets of London, feverishly strung-out on drugs and constantly searching for ways to procure money to pay for his next fix. He clashes with Nathan (Dickinson), another young man in a similar situation and, after a fight between them, passer-by Simon (Okezie Morro) attempts to help Mike, offering to buy him a meal. Mike accepts the offer – and then punches Simon unconscious before stealing his designer watch, which he sells for a measly £40. Shortly afterwards, he’s arrested and sent to prison.

We don’t see anything of his time in captivity but, some months later, he’s released back into the community, given a temporary place in a hostel and sent to work in the kitchen of a down-at-heel hotel under the direction of Chef (Amr Waked). Mike is off the drugs now and determined to make a fresh start, but he is told that part of the process will include him sitting down with Simon and expressing regret for what he’s done…

It’s a simple premise, with a deeper subtext. Dickinson’s script has the brutal smack of realism and Dillane is extraordinarily compelling. There’s something innately likeable about Mike, something so utterly helpless that I watch this on tenterhooks, dreading every step he takes in the wrong direction. The film has the verité quality of Ken Loach, cinematographer Joseé Deshaies filming in long, naturalistic takes, mostly on the streets. But every so often, the scene shifts to a mysterious, labyrinthine setting, an underground cavern, as though we’ve been granted access to somewhere deep within Mike’s psyche: a strangely tranquil place, where all his woes are momentarily forgotten.

But we’re only in there for short intervals, before being wrenched rudely back into reality, where Mike’s slow slide to oblivion continues. Dickinson is a chameleon of an actor, who has a whole range of disparate characters to his credit, so it’s perhaps unsurprising that he displays this same quality as a director. Urchin is one of those hard-to-quantify features, a unique and impressive first foray.

If the acting work ever dries up, Dickinson clearly has another talent to explore.

4.4 stars

Philip Caveney

I Swear

10/10/25

Cineworld, Edinburgh

I Swear follows a tried and tested feel-good formula. You know the one: a vulnerable protagonist struggles to live with a misunderstood condition until their saviour arrives in the shape of a kind and unassuming friend, allowing them to flourish. So far, so seen-it-all-before. But writer-director Kirk Jones gives the format a kick in the baws with this tale of grit and humour in the face of great adversity.

The film is elevated by two things: an extraordinary true-life story and a stellar cast. The central character is John Davidson, an MBE-decorated Scottish activist, who lives with Tourette syndrome and campaigns to raise public awareness. Played here by Scott Ellis Watson (as a teenager) and Robert Aramayo (as an adult), he lights up the screen, his frustration and sadness leavened by his innate sweetness – and the undeniable funniness of his inappropriate comments and sweary outbursts. “I’m a paedophile,” he says at a caretaking job interview, when informed that the role includes setting up a hall for youth groups to use. The same prospective employer asks him about his tea-making skills. “I’m good,” John assures him, “I use spunk for milk.”

Despite the jocularity, Jones’ screenplay never mocks John, never laughs at him or belittles what he has to deal with every day. Instead, it’s an honest account of a young man floundering in a hostile world, rescued from despair by finding acceptance. John’s protector is his pal’s mum, Dottie (Maxine Peake), a mental health nurse with a terminal cancer diagnosis, who takes John in. While his own mum, Heather (Shirley Henderson), is uptight and puritanical, embarrassed by his language, making him sit apart from the family to eat because of his tendency to spit, Dottie ignores his tics and profanity, welcoming him at her kitchen table, telling him not to apologise for things he can’t help. She encourages him to see a future for himself: one where he can hold down a job and live independently.

Another positive influence in John’s life is his janitor boss, Tommy (Peter Mullan), who champions his young assistant, serving as both mentor and father figure. It’s Tommy who tells John he needs to raise awareness of his syndrome: “The problem isn’t Tourette’s; it’s people not knowing about Tourette’s.” It’s Tommy who stands up for John in court, when the judge seems ready to penalise him for contempt, unable to accept that his shouting is involuntary.

At the end of the movie, we see the real-life John, a familiar figure to those of us old enough to remember the 1989 BBC documentary, John’s Not Mad, which featured the sixteen-year-old Davidson. I’m a little confused as to why this influential TV programme is never mentioned in the film, as it must have made him something of a local celebrity and changed the way he was perceived. Still, he’s been spreading the word ever since, organising conventions, giving presentations to school kids and police officers, making sure that everyone knows about Tourette syndrome. We’ve no excuse for condemning those living with it to the years of misery John himself endured.

Engaging, enraging and hilarious, I Swear is something of a triumph.

As John himself might say, “Fuck off to the cinema and watch it, ya wankers.”

4.3 stars

Susan Singfield

Black Hole Sign

08/10/25

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

There’s a great big metaphor hanging over the unnamed hospital where this dark comedy takes place. A hole has appeared in the roof of A&E and water is dripping down onto the floor. As the story progresses, so the problem steadily worsens, the ingress ever more destructive. 

But senior charge nurse Crea (Helen Logan) and her team can only soldier on regardless, doing their best for their patients, no matter what. Crea has phoned for help about the roof only to be told (by a recorded voice) that she is number 74 in a queue. Her team include her right-hand woman, Ani (Dani Heron), currently doing a bit of soul-searching about her own future; affable porter, Tommy (Martin Docherty), who has long carried a torch for Crea; and Lina (Betty Valencia), an almost cartoonishly helpless student nurse, who arrives chewing gum to ‘help her anxiety’ and who seems incapable of walking past a litter bin without knocking it over.

It’s clearly going to be a tricky night. Mr Hopper (Beruce Khan), a former alcoholic, is admitted with the fatal condition that gives the play its title, an inoperable affliction of the brain that is going to keep deteriorating and will cause his death in a matter of hours – but there’s no sign of anybody visiting him. Meanwhile, octogenarian Tersia  (Ann Louise Ross) is suffering from a urinary infection and is causing havoc as she experiences hallucinatory episodes that make her think that she is at a 1970s disco. The silver glittery shoes she’s wearing are all too real though.

At various points the play keeps cutting to an enquiry, some time later, where the members of staff have been called as witnesses and we learn that something really bad happened on that fateful night, resulting in a tragic death. It’s all too clear that somebody is going to have to pay the ultimate price for this disaster.

Playwright Uma Nada-Rajah is herself a staff nurse, who works in critical care, so it’s little wonder that, despite the sometimes slapstick levels of humour on display, the piece feels authentic, clearly inspired by events that the writer has actually experienced. It’s not the eviscerating howl of despair I came in expecting but then, such grim polemics can sometimes make for difficult viewing, so here the bitter pill has been sweetened with a shot of humour. Amidst the laughter, important points are being driven home.

It’s clear from the outset that tonight’s audience is on board with this fast-moving production, cleverly directed by Gareth Nicholls, though I must confess to being somewhat puzzled by a lengthy blackout, which – considering how little has changed when the lights come back up – seems unnecessary.

This niggle aside, the hearty applause at the play’s conclusion suggests that everyone present is in agreement with the story’s subtext. The National Health Service – one of the greatest institutions of modern times – is on its last legs and anything that forces this pressing concern into the spotlight is more than worthy of our attention.

4 stars 

Philip Caveney

Cheapo

07/10/25

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

Last time we saw this play – back in December – I was a little confused by the title. This version comes with a strapline that makes things a whole lot clearer – “Cheapo: chess slang for a primitive trap, often set in the hope of swindling a win from a lost position.”

Cheapo‘s previous appearance at the Traverse was part of the annual 4PLAY programme, where four new plays are showcased over four nights. It was our favourite of last year’s quartet, and I’m delighted to have the chance to watch this new iteration.

Katy Nixon’s script still resonates: her writing is spare and succinct, capturing the teenage characters’ raw emotions with devastating precision.

And their emotions are very raw. At a recent party, something dreadful happened to Kyla (Yolanda Mitchell) and she needs Jamie (Testimony Adegbite) to help her deal with the fallout. But Jamie isn’t prepared to renege on what he’s told the police – and he doesn’t understand why Kyla wants him to. In a not-especially-subtle-but-nonetheless-effective metaphor, they play a game of chess, arguing about their possible moves while fighting to avoid checkmate. The mounting tension is expertly undercut by some quirky flights of fancy, as the duo imagine how their lives might have played out in alternate universes – before coming back down to earth with a bump, still mired in the nightmare of their current reality.

The set, by Gillian Argo, is boldly emblematic: a crooked panel of black and white checkered flooring spreads up on to the wall, mirroring the chess board Jamie places on the table. A red carpet appears to signal the dangerous path the pair are on; again, the colour is repeated, this time in the takeaway food cartons that litter the table. It’s cunningly designed, with monochrome stools resembling giant pawns and strip lights that double as, um, light sabres.

Brian Logan is in the director’s chair this time, and the piece is perfectly paced, with long moments of stillness and contemplation punctuating the frenetic teenage energy. The movement is dynamic and I especially enjoy the dance sequences, as well as the way Kyla moves like a chess piece in the imaginary court scene.

Adegbite and Mitchell are perfectly cast: his earnest geek nicely contrasting with her streetwise façade. The exploration of misogyny and racism feels credibly rooted in their characters’ teenage experience, and their respective vulnerabilities and coping mechanisms are skilfully embodied.

Despite dealing with distressing themes, Cheapo is a witty and enjoyable piece of theatre, provocative but ultimately hopeful, that red carpet perhaps signifying something more positive than it first appears: an escape route for our young protagonists.

4.7 stars

Susan Singfield

Steve

05/10/25

Netflix

Adapted from his own book, Max Porter’s screenplay is a heart-wrenching tragedy, castng a merciless light on what we’re up against when it comes to helping troubled kids. There’s a change of title – the novella Shy becomes the movie Steve, indicating a shift in focus, from teenage protagonist (Jay Lycurgo) to forty-something headteacher (Cillian Murphy).

Shy and Steve are two sides of the same coin: two clever, gentle, unhappy men, with substance-abuse issues and deep seams of anger, always bubbling, ready to erupt. If Steve has better control of his problems, it’s only because he’s older and more experienced at hiding things.

Directed by Tim Mielants, the movie opens on an auspicious morning: a local news crew is visiting Stanton Wood, filming a segment about Steve’s experimental boarding school for challenging students. It’s a last-chance saloon for those who’ve been excluded from everywhere else, described by TV host Kamila (Priyanga Burford) as “a pre-Borstal”. The model is a Finnish one, Steve explains. We never quite learn what this entails – what pedagogical theories are being employed – but we do see that the staff genuinely care for the boys, treating them with love and respect and never talking down to them. Unlike their out-of-touch local MP, the loathsome Sir Hugh Montague Powell-pronounced-Pole (Roger Allam), who soon comes unstuck when he tries to patronise Shy.

Sadly, the institution is teetering on a knife-edge as sharp as any wielded by its inmates. Funding is an issue, of course, as is public perception. It costs £30k per annum to house a single young offender here. Are these “losers” worth it?

For Steve, the answer is a resounding yes – a sentiment echoed by his deputy, Amanda (Tracey Ullman), school therapist, Jenny (Emily Watson), and teachers, Andy and Shola (Douggie McMeekin and Little Simz). But there’s no denying it’s a taxing job, breaking up the near-constant fights between wind-up merchant Jamie (Luke Ayres) and coiled spring Riley (Joshua J Parker), dealing with the boys’ emotional trauma and protecting the grown-ups from their worst excesses.

In hindsight, maybe inviting a TV crew to immortalise the chaos isn’t the best idea Steve’s ever had…

And when two representatives of the school’s trust, Charlotte and Julian (Ruby Ashbourne Serkis and Ben Lloyd-Hughes), inform Steve that the school is being shut down, it’s more than he can bear. What will happen to the damaged children he’s worked so hard to protect? For most of them, Stanton Wood represents the only stability they know.

Murphy is riveting as the desperate Steve, and it’s heartbreaking to watch his hope unravel as the film goes on. The boys provide some light relief, their devil-may-care fuck-you attitudes affording some real laughs, even as they squander their chances, fail to live up to the goals they’ve been set. At Stanton Wood, they’re allowed to pick themselves up and try again. Shy serves as a symbol of redemption, and Lycurgo imbues him with a beautiful naïvety, so that we’re rooting for him every step of the way.

A thought-provoking indictment of a broken system, Steve is available to stream from Netflix, and – despite its title being the dullest I’ve ever come across – the film is well worth your attention

4.1 stars

Susan Singfield

Dead of Winter

05/10/25

Cineworld, Edinburgh

Dead of Winter has only been granted a limited screening in UK cinemas before moving on to streaming, but provided a multiplex near you is showing it, it’s well worth making a trip out for. This edgy action thriller has me in its tenacious grip pretty much from the word ‘go.’

Barb (Emma Thomson) leaves her remote home in Northern Minnesota to make the arduous drive to the even more remote Lake Hilda for a reason that’s only gradually revealed as the story unfolds. As you might guess from the film’s title, she’s chosen a pretty challenging time of year to undertake her journey. On the way to the lake, she stops off at an isolated homestead to ask for directions and encounters ‘Camo Jacket’ (Marc Menchaca), who is acting in a decidedly suspicious manner. Barb can’t help but notice an ominous splash of blood in the snow, which the man attributes to ‘deer.’

She continues to the lake where she engages in a spot of ice-fishing, but then witnesses a young girl fleeing from Camo Jacket. Barb watches horrified as she is dragged back in the direction of his cabin and then follows at a distance. It’s soon apparent that the girl is being held hostage in the cellar of the man’s house. But what can Barb do? She cannot call the police since there’s no phone signal in these parts, but she’s nevertheless determined to help Leah (Laurel Marsden) and will not quit, even when Camo Jacket’s trigger-happy wife, The Purple Lady (Judy Greer), turns up at the cabin and the bizarre motives behind the kidnapping are explained…

Written by Nicholas Jacobson-Larsen and Dalton Leeb, and masterfully directed by Brian Kirk, Dead of Winter alternates scenes of extreme tension with gentler flashbacks to Barb’s youth, where she’s played by Thompson’s real life daughter, Gaia Wise. While I involuntarily bristle at nepotism, I have to grudgingly admit that this is a convincing move and, happily, the enormous potential for sentimentality in these scenes is skilfully side-stepped: indeed, I find them genuinely affecting.

We’ve all seen those ‘geri-action’ movies where elderly men miraculously transform into athletic heroes, capable of throwing kicks and punches like pros, but this iteration keeps everything within the realms of believability. Barb shows the limitations of her age but also displays her stubborn determination to just keep going no matter what, putting one snow-boot in front of the other. And, having existed in this hostile land for many years, she has a few tricks in her tackle box that will give her a competitive edge.

The snowbound locations, often filmed using drones – it was actually shot in Finland – look absolutely ravishing on the big screen, and you’re uncomfortably aware of the sub-zero temperatures throughout. Those of a nervous disposition should be warned that a scene where Barb is obliged to perform surgery on herself – with a fishing hook – might make you want to avert your gaze.

It’s impossible not to watch this and picture Frances McDormand in the lead role but Thompson is a brilliant actor and captures this character in every detail, as well as doing a very creditable job of handling the Minnesotan accent. Greer is also compelling as a woman driven to unreasonable acts by her own tragic circumstances. It’s only in the final scenes that all the pieces fall into place and I manage to get my breathing back to its usual rhythm.

4.4 stars

Philip Caveney

One Battle After Another

04/10/25

Cineworld, Edinburgh

We’re uncharacteristically late to this one, mostly because in its week of release we are in a camper-van in the wilds of Scotland and no cinema in that vicinity is showing it. Not complaining, you understand, people need to have holidays, but this is a film by Paul Thomas Anderson, whom I’ve held in special esteem ever since watching Boogie Nights way back in 1997. And all those ‘best film of the year’ reports make me impatient to get back to civilisation.

Mind you, I’d be the first to admit that, in recent years, PTA has (at least for me) gone off the boil a bit. Unlike many of his followers, I didn’t really care for 2017’s Phantom Thread and his last offering, 2021’s Licorice Pizza, though a warm and appealing slice of nostalgia, wasn’t the finest work from the director of There Will be Blood and (in my humble opinion) his masterpiece, Magnolia.

One Battle After Another, as the name suggests, is an action film, perhaps the last genre I’d have expected this most enigmatic of film-makers to explore but, happily, he puts his own unique spin on it, producing a sprawling, multi-faceted tale set over the best part of two decades. It’s larger than life, peopled by a series of eccentrically-named caricatures and yet, once it settles into its stride, it manages to exert a powerful grip.

We first join the action as Pat Calhoun (Leonardo DiCaprio) and Perfidia Beverly Hills (Teyana Taylor), along with other members of their far-left terrorist group, French 75, launch an armed attack on a detention centre in California and free all of the captives. During the action, Perfidia encounters the unit’s commanding officer, Steven Lockjaw (Sean Penn), and – in a move intended to humiliate him – makes him masturbate at gunpoint. However, this only causes him to fixate on her, something that will have inevitable consequences further down the line.

Pat and Perfidia become partners, but their haphazard attempts to parent their baby daughter, Willa, seem doomed to failure – especially when Perfidia is captured and forced into witness protection, and Pat is left to deal with the situation alone.

Sixteen years later, Willa (Chase Infiniti) has grown to be an independent teenager, preferring to follow the guidance of her karate instructor, Sergio (an underused Benicio Del Toro), than her drug-addled old man. Pat hasn’t been involved in any terrorist activity in years, preferring to experiment with every drug he can lay his hands on but when, out of the blue, a coded telephone call reaches him, announcing that Lockjaw (now a Colonel) is coming after Willa, he’s forced to get up off the sofa and go to her aid…

From this point, the film pretty much delivers on the promise of the title – it’s a frenetic, explosive and breathless chase filtered through cinematographer Michael Bauman’s VistaVision lenses, and backed by Jonny Greenwood’s eccentric score. Written by Anderson and loosely based on Thomas Pynchon’s novel, Vineland, the director has reputedly been working on this project for something like 20 years so it’s remarkable that it feels as timely as it does.

DiCaprio is wonderfully endearing as the hapless Pat, desperately trying to remember passwords that he hasn’t used for far too long, while Penn, as the heinous, macho Lockjaw, is the personification of a living GI Joe action figure, a man committed to preserving his outward appearance, while inside he’s a festering, ambitious wreck. But strangely, it’s newcomer Infiniti who really impresses here as the quietly determined Willa, who, when pushed, snaps back with the stubborn tenacity she’s inherited from her mother.

One Battle After Another is a searing condemnation of contemporary America, a world where freedom has to be fought for with extreme violence, where the most cold-blooded assassins hide behind the personas of smiling, corn-fed patriots. PTA finds original ways to explore the most well-worn conventions. Even the old fall-back of the car chase is given a mesmerising makeover, as vehicles glide silently through a shimmering waterfall of desert roads like some kind of LSD-induced hallucination.

Despite a hefty running time of two hours and 41 minutes, the film flashes by in what feels like half that time and it’s clear pretty much from the outset that Paul Thomas Anderson is back on form. Whatever comes next, I’m already looking forward to it.

4.8 stars

Philip Caveney