Netflix

The Rip

20/01/26

Netflix

It’s what’s known as ‘The Netflix Effect”: a movie that was originally conceived and filmed to be watched on a giant screen, which – through no fault of its own – ends up on a much smaller one. Joe Carnahan’s The Rip features plenty of action sequences filmed in dark corners and on gloomy rain-drenched streets. Even when projected onto the big-ish B&B home-viewing screen, I occasionally find myself struggling to establish who is shooting/stabbing/punching whom. A shame, because I’m convinced that in a movie theatre, this would easily have made it into four-star territory.

Welcome to Florida, where the cops appear to be every bit as ruthless and foul-mouthed as the drug dealers they repeatedly find themselves up against. After the brutal murder of Captain Jackie Velez (Lina Esco) of the Miami-Dade Police Department, suspicion falls upon members of her special unit, the Tactical Narcotics Team. The FBI are brought in to question them, but find themselves drawing a blank. The team’s leader, Lieutenant Dane Dumars (Matt Damon), and his bestie, Sergeant JD Byrne (Ben Affleck), are bewildered. Who could have killed Jackie? (Byrne has particular reason to be cut-up about it as the two of them were in a serious relationship.) Could it really be that somebody on the team murdered her?

Then an anonymous tip-off comes in. A house in Hialeah contains hidden drug money, belonging to a local cartel. Dumars and JD head out there with their regular team in support: Detectives Mike Ro (Steven Yeun), Numa Baptiste (Teyana Taylor) and Lolo Salazar (Catalina Sandino Moreno), the latter with her trusty dog in tow, trained to sniff out not drugs, but dough. (Hmm. Where can I get a dog like that?) When said pooch becomess very excited, Dumars convinces the current tenant, Desi Molina (Sasha Calle), to let the team in to her late Grandmother’s house, whereupon they do find an eye-watering sum in used notes. It’s the kind of haul that could change their lives forever.

But it soon becomes apparent that certain unidentified others know all about that hidden stash – and are determined to get their hands on it by any means possible…

Okay, so it’s essentially another version of The Pardoner’s Tale, but Carnahan’s twisty script, co-written with Michael McGrale, is a clever mix of whodunnit and taut action adventure. The former element keeps me guessing for the film’s first two thirds – some of the reveals are genuinely surprising – while the final section flings me headlong into a breathless chase. It’s here where the aforementioned Netflix Effect begins to take its toll.

Damon and Affleck demonstrate the kind of chemistry they’ve had ever since Good Will Hunting, and the supporting players all make the most of the screen-time they’re afforded – though it’s probably true to say that the female actors are somewhat sidelined in what feels increasingly like a big boys punch em’ up. But if action is what you’ve been craving, you’ll find it here by the bucket load.

Those who persist in watching movies on their iPhones should probably quit while they’re ahead.

3.5 stars

Philip Caveney

Jay Kelly

17/01/01

Netflix

Our Netflix catch-up continues with this whimsical and charming film from Noah Baumbach, clearly influenced by Federico Fellini’s 8½. George Clooney stars as the titular Mr Kelly, a handsome and successful movie star, now forced to contemplate the highs and lows of his career and personal life – and the things he could perhaps have handled better. With his latest film wrapped, Jay has been looking forward to spending time with his daughter, Daisy (Grace Edwards), but she tells him she’s heading off to France with friends.

Then veteran film director, Peter Schneider (Jim Broadbent), the man who gave Jay his first break, unexpectedly dies. After the funeral, Jay bumps into an old college-mate, Timothy (Billy Crudup), and goes for a drink with him – where events take an unexpected turn.

Feeling the need to make himself scarce for a while, Jay instructs his long-suffering manager, Ron (Adam Sandler), to accept an offer on his behalf for a trip to Tuscany to attend a career-tribute award. This is awkward, because Jay has already told them that he’s not interested in attending the event and the trophy has been promised to Jay’s main rival, Ben Alcock (Patrick Wilson). But Ron has spent most of his life dealing with Jay’s unpredictable impulses and manages to persuade the organisers to forge a second statuette, to make it a joint celebration. Jay, Ron and publicist Liz (Laura Dern) set off for Italy, along with a whole entourage of followers.

On the journey, Jay has time to contemplate key events from his past – actually stepping through a series of doors, to revisit them as they happen. It soon becomes apparent that success as a film star comes at a high price. When everyone around you has a stake in your success – even the ever-faithful Ron is taking 15% of everything Jay earns – it’s hard to trust anyone.

And as the prize-giving ceremony looms ever closer, it begins to dawn on Jay that he is in danger of having nobody to share the moment with.

Clooney is the perfect choice for this role – there’s always been something distinctly old-fashioned about his rugged, matinee idol looks – and a final scene where he contemplates different versions of himself from his own stellar career is nicely handled. The film also features some lovely insider details: the shooting of a love scene with Charlie Rowe standing in as the younger JK, reveals how clinical an exercise it is and how the magic is created. Baumbach’s screenplay (co-written with Emily Mortimer) is witty and insightful, while Linus Sandgren’s gorgeous cinematography gives the film a dazzling, sun-drenched sheen.

Some reviewers have been dismissive of Jay Kelly, but Clooney inhabits the lead role with absolute authority. It’s hard to imagine who might have made a better fit. There have been rumours that this could be his final role as an actor (lately he’s been more interested in being on the other side of the camera). Should that prove to be the case, this would seem a fitting way to bow out.

4.2 stars

Philip Caveney

Left-Handed Girl

11/01/26

Netflix

I’m feeling a bit sorry for myself this Sunday afternoon: I didn’t sleep well last night, I’ve got a cold and the temperature outside is bloody freezing. We’d planned a long walk but I’m not up for it. Is there anything good on Netflix that we haven’t seen?

Philip’s right on it: yes, there is. He’s just been reading about Left-Handed Girl, written by Shih-Ching Tsou and Sean Baker (the latter a firm favourite of ours), which has not only created a buzz at Cannes, but has also been chosen as Taiwan’s Oscar entry. Apparently, the long-time collaborators penned the script way back in 2010 but it’s taken until now for director Tsou to secure the financing for her debut feature. However frustrating that must have been for her, it’s certainly worth the wait. Because Left-Handed Girl is a triumph.

The film follows the travails of the Cheng family as they return to the bustling capital of Taipei after several years living in the Taiwanese countryside. Single mum Shu-Fen (Janel Tsai) is struggling financially, and she’s hoping to get back on track by opening a noodle stall in the city’s famous night market.

Her teenage daughter, I-Ann (Shih-Yuan Ma) is moody and miserable. She’s left school to work at a betel nut stall, where she’s shagging the boss with the same lack of enthusiasm she brings to her job. Something’s troubling her, and the mystery only deepens when she bumps into an old classmate, who expresses surprise that the former straight-A student is not at university…

Meanwhile, Shu-Fen’s youngest daughter, the titular five-year-old southpaw, I-Jing (Nina Ye), is settling happily into her new life, charming the market traders as she smiles and dances through the stalls. She hasn’t a care in the world – until her granddad (Akio Chen) admonishes her for using her left hand to draw. “It’s the devil’s hand,” he tells her, as she stares in awe at the offending appendage. Although the superstitious old man’s intention is to get I-Jing to start using her right hand, his plan has unforetold consequences as, unwittingly, he has given her a pass to be naughty. “It’s not me,” she tells herself as she steals a trinket from a shop, “I can’t help it; it’s my devil hand.”

Cinematographers Ko-Chin Chen and Tzu-Hao Kao shot the entire movie on iPhones, which lends the piece a convincing veritas, thanks to the agility and immediacy of the footage. We see the market from I-Jing’s point of view, eye-level with the traders’ tables as we run with her between the stalls, ducking through the crowds. We ride with I-Ann on her scooter, hair streaming in the night air, precious minutes of freedom between her household duties and her boss’s demands. Taipei comes to life on screen, a kaleidoscopic riot of colour and sound.

Under Tsou’s direction, this collection of moments slowly takes shape. We learn to care for not only the three main characters, but also those on the periphery, such as Johnny (Brando Huang), the kindly trader with the stall next-door to Shu-Fen’s. These are people on the edges of society, only barely getting by, but they are all afforded their dignity. And, as the various vignettes coalesce, a story emerges – with a pretty explosive denouement.

Film-wise, 2026 has started off in great style, with Left-Handed Girl our third five-star cinematic experience in just eleven days. Long may it continue!

5 stars

Susan Singfield

Goodbye June

08/01/26

Netflix

Amidst the roster of Christmas-themed films that we failed to see over the festive season, Goodbye June shines – at least in its earlier stages – with an unflinching sense of realism. It’s centred around a tragedy, the kind of experience that so many viewers will be familiar with, and – as the name suggests – depicts the actions of a family bidding farewell to their resident matriarch.

It’s just a couple of weeks before 25th December when June (Helen Mirren) collapses whilst making the morning cuppa. She’s rushed to hospital where it’s quickly established that the cancer she’s been suffering from for quite some time has progressed to the stage where further treatment would be pointless. All the hospital staff can do is make her comfortable until the end arrives. This news comes as no great surprise to her husband, Bernie (Timothy Spall), her three daughters, Julia (Kate Winslet), Molly (Andrea Riseborough) and Helen (Toni Collette), and her son, Connor (Johnny Flynn).

They have no option but to hunker down and show what support they can until the dreaded day finally dawns. But can June make it to Christmas?

It doesn’t help matters that Bernie seems barely able to register any kind of reaction to what’s happening to his wife; that Julia and Molly are incapable of burying a long-brandished hatchet; that Helen is lost in some kind of hippy-dippy alternative reality; and that the vulnerable Connor simply cannot envisage a life without his adored mum to hold his hand. Throw into the equation a bunch of bewildered spouses and offspring of various ages and it soon becomes clear this isn’t going to be a tranquil farewell.

For her directorial debut, Winslet has managed to enlist an incredibly starry cast, while her son, Joe Anders, provides the screenplay. For the most part, the story brims with absolute authenticity – though Molly’s rudeness to every member of staff unlucky enough to cross her path occasionally feels a little too on the nose. Would anyone in this situation actually react with such unbridled vitriol?

And a late-stage development where the entire family works together to put on an impromptu Nativity play for June’s benefit also ignites my incredulity, with Bernie’s sudden transformation into the life and soul of the party particularly implausible. This kind of sudden about-turn weakens that sense of veracity.

But perhaps I’m being a bit of a Scrooge about this. Goodbye June is a sizeable step-up from much of the twinkly, feel-good fodder we’ve come to expect at this time of year – and the addition of a short coda set the following year at least offers us a chance to dry our tears before the end credits.

3.8 stars

Philip Caveney

Train Dreams

03/01/26

Netflix

Adapted from Denis Johnson’s 2011 novella of the same name, Clint Bentley’s Train Dreams is set in the Pacific Northwest during the first half of the last century. More character study than story, this beautifully-contrived film proves a difficult watch.

Idaho orphan Robert Grainier (Joel Edgerton) is born in poverty, destined to a hard-scrabble life. An itinerant worker, he toils uncomplainingly, felling trees to make way for the expansion of the American railroads. He is watchful and taciturn, but nonetheless forms strong bonds with his fellow loggers. These include Arn Peeples (William H Macy), a sagacious old man concerned about deforestation, and Fu Sheng (Alfred Hsing), shockingly murdered in a racist attack by his colleagues – while Robert silently looks on.

The only glimmer of cheer in Robert’s life is Gladys (Felicity Jones). For a brief period, they enjoy a happy marriage, buying an acre of land, building a cabin, having a baby. But they’re poor, and Robert’s work takes him away from home, so he’s not with Gladys when a forest fire sweeps the region, taking everything – and everyone – he cares about.

From hereon in, Robert becomes even more introverted. It’s as if he’s frozen in time, living hermit-like in his rebuilt cabin, haunted by dreams, flashbacks and premonitions. His occasional brushes with the outside world are jarring: the twentieth century’s brash progression at odds with his pioneer lifestyle. While he’s stuck in the past, stubbornly homesteading, other people are buying motor cars, going to the cinema, landing on the moon.

Edgerton’s performance is undeniably impressive, albeit in an understated, muted way. Here is a man who expects hardship and bears his pain in silence – all of which Edgerton communicates effectively through very little dialogue. Adolpho Veloso’s cinematography is admirable too: the Washington vistas are both beautiful and bleak, the perfect backdrop to Grainier’s grief.

But this is a depressing piece of cinema, with barely any lighter moments to alleviate the misery: no redemption; no hope. It’s clever and moving and has excited much interest from the Awards Academy – but it’s not an enjoyable ride.

3.6 stars

Susan Singfield

Frankenstein

25/10/25

Filmhouse, Edinburgh

Guillermo del Toro was always going to make his version of Frankenstein one day – the seeds were sown in his 1992 Spanish-language film, Cronos, the first of his features that I ever saw in the cinema and the one that convinced me he had a big future ahead of him. 

Now he’s finally got around to doing the job properly, courtesy of Netflix, who stumped up the $120m budget. For a while it looked as though there wouldn’t be any chance of seeing it in an actual cinema before the transfer to streaming. This would have been a crime because del Toro’s adaptation of the tale looks absolutely sumptuous on the biggest screen at Filmhouse and I’m delighted to see that the auditorium is  pretty busy for a Saturday afternoon showing.

Frankenstein is, of course, one of the most filmed books in history, but it’s probably fair to say that only a handful of the 423 movie adaptations (not to mention the 287 TV episodes – yes, I did Google it) have come anywhere close to capturing the essence of Mary Shelley’s seminal horror story. While del Toro does throw in a few original twists of his own (of course he does!), he sticks fairly close to Shelley’s narrative – indeed, he’s even credited her as his co-screenwriter. The tale is told in three distinct parts.

In the opening Prelude, we join Captain Andersen (Lars Mikkelsen) and the crew of his sailing ship, who are stranded on the ice in remote Arctic waters. There’s a sudden explosion nearby, from which the crew rescue Victor Frankenstein (Oscar Isaac), who has been pushed almost to the point of death by a monstrous assailant. After witnessing The Creature (Jacob Elordi) plunging into icy waters, they carry Victor onto the ship – but, once revived, he assures Andersen that his pursuer will not actually be dead and will surely come for him…

Before that happens, he needs to tell his story.

Victor then narrates The Creator’s Tale and we flashback back to his childhood where, under the rule of his despotic father, Leopold (Charles Dance), Young Victor (Christian Convery) first becomes obsessed with life and death. Keen-sighted viewers may spot something familiar about Victor’s barely-glimpsed mother, Claire. Something distinctly Oedipal is happening here.

We then cut to some years later. A grown-up Victor is causing controversy at medical school in Edinburgh with the grisly experiments he’s conducting on cadavers (and I get to revisit some of the sets that were evident around my home city in September 2024). We are introduced to Victor’s younger brother, William (Felix Kammerer), and his fiancée, Elizabeth (Mia Goth). We also meet Harlander (Christophe Waltz), a character created for the film, a wealthy man who, for clandestine reasons, is perfectly happy to finance Victor’s attempts to take his experiments all the way.

But Victor’s account is later contrasted with The Creature’s Tale, where we learn of the years when the monster and his creator were apart: how The Creature lived in a barn alongside a kindly blind man (David Bradley); how he mastered the art of speaking (with a distinctly Yorkshire accent); and how he slowly began to realise how shabbily he’d been treated…

It’s not just because I’m a devout Guillermo del Toro fan that I think this film is a million times better than every other Frankenstein-generated movie I’ve watched down the decades. Isaac is a revelation in the title role, nailing both the character’s sense of privilege and his fatal short-sightedness. Elordi, meanwhile, offers a fresh take on the Creature that really brings out his innate vulnerability and his desperate need to relate to others, something that’s been attempted before with much less success. 

The film is packed with sumptuous locations and thrilling action set-pieces, that have it hurtling through its lengthy running time. Cinematographer Dan Lausten captures every scene with an almost luminous intensity, Kate Hawley’s costume designs are exquisite, and there’s a beautiful score courtesy of Alexander Desplat. If I have a minor niggle it’s that the CGI-generated wolves in one long sequence aren’t quite as convincing as they need to be – and perhaps both Mia Goth and Felix Kammerer might have been given a little more to do?

But these are nitpicks. As ever in these situations, I’m urging people not to wait for this to drop onto streaming, because this level of filmmaking deserves to be watched on the biggest, brightest screen available, one of – dare I say it? – monstrous proportions.

I’ll get my coat.

4.8 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

The Thursday Murder Club

01/09/25

Netflix

Oh dear. The first film of the month and it’s a stinker. I haven’t read Richard Osman’s best-selling novel (cosy crime isn’t really my thing) but I’m sure it deserves a better adaptation than this. His podcasts (which I do listen to) show him to be clever and erudite. This movie is neither.

All the right pieces are in play: popular source material, a stellar cast, the prettiest of English villages. There’s even cake – but sadly not enough to sweeten this twaddle.

The Thursday Murder Club comprises four wealthy pensioners: Elizabeth (Helen Mirren), Ibrahim (Ben Kingsley), Ron (Pierce Brosnan) and Joyce (Celia Imrie). They live in a stately home called Coopers Chase, which has been converted into the the most luxurious retirement apartments imaginable, and pass their time investigating the cold case files their fellow resident, Penny (Susan Kirkby), a former detective, has somehow managed to hold onto.

But when money-grubbing landowner, Ian Ventham (David Tennant), reveals his plans to redevelop Coopers Chase, murder is no longer confined to the past. The privileged pensioners can barely conceal their glee at having something real to get their dentures into, much to the dismay of local police officers, Chris Hudson (Daniel Mays) and Donna de Freitas (Naomi Ackie).

Amidst the lightweight sleuthing, some serious issues are raised, including people-trafficking and dementia. But these are hopelessly out of place, treated so glibly that it feels very uncomfortable. There’s some real snobbery at play here too, presumably unconscious: the working-class-man-made-good with his loud voice and tacky McMansion; the upper-class oldies with their mellow tones and oh-so-tasteful decor.

I want to find nice things to say because it’s Helen Mirren, for God’s sake. But hers isn’t even the most wasted talent – at least she’s in a lot of scenes. The wonderful Ruth Sheen barely gets a look in as Aunt Maud. (What’s the purpose of this character? She adds nothing to the plot.)

To quote a catchphrase that’ll only mean something to Gen X, here’s my suggestion: Just Switch Off Your Television Set and Go and Do Something Less Boring Instead.

2 stars

Susan Singfield

Havoc

27/04/25

Netflix

Welsh filmmaker Gareth Evans first came to prominence with his martial arts epic The Raid in 2011. An inevitable sequel (imaginatively entitled The Raid 2) followed in 2014, but his last big-screen release, The Apostle (2018), came and went with barely a ripple. So Havoc is clearly an important project for Evans. Which may explain why it feels like the very definition of the word ‘overkill.’

To be fair, it starts well. The action takes place in an unspecified American city – actually a heavily-CGI’d Cardiff. Grizzled cop Walker (Tom Hardy) is at an all-night garage, hastily trying to buy a Christmas gift for the twelve-year-old daughter he rarely ever sees. (Mind you, we don’t get to see much of her either.) Walker, it quickly becomes clear, is a dodgy copper, but then he’s not alone. Every member of the police force we meet in this story is on the take, apart from Ellie (Jessie Mai Li), who has only recently taken up her post as Walker’s sidekick.

After a drug deal goes wrong, Charlie (Justin Cornwell), the son of crusading politician, Lawrence Beaumont (an underused Forest Whitaker), finds himself hunted by a vengeful Chinese gang leader, who lost her own son in the resulting gunfire. Walker is ‘persuaded’ by Beaumont – yes, he’s also dodgy – to rescue Charlie, in exchange for a pardon for former crimes…

But the plot hardly matters, since Havoc – as the name might imply – is mostly an excuse to string together a series of action set-pieces. The first of them, the aforementioned ‘drug deal gone wrong’, is nicely staged, with some artfully-filmed slo-mo sequences and, what’s more, it’s relatively brief. But having dipped his bread in the old red stuff, Evans (who also wrote the screenplay) seems determined to serve up an ‘all-you-can-eat’ buffet of mayhem and murder.

The action becomes increasingly incoherent. People don’t just get shot and fall down, they dance around the screen spouting blood like human colanders. There’s a seemingly inexhaustible supply of ammunition and the Chinese drug gang employs an infinite number of human targets, all of whom appear to exist simply to run gleefully towards their own destruction. You’d need an abacus to keep a record of the body count.

For me, the main problem here is that, aside from Ellie, every character I meet is a villain of the lowest order and, while it’s not impossible to get audiences to root for bad people, you first have to know something about them in order to care what happens. But I know hardly anything about anybody and that includes Walker. Somewhere in this mess, excellent actors like Timothy Olyphant and Richard Harrington struggle to make any impression, as they are inextricably lost in a tidal wave of blood and bullets. As Havoc thunders towards its final, protracted punch-up, I’m already wistfully looking forward to the credits.

This one is clearly made for diehard action freaks and doubtless it will scare up some kind of an audience on Netflix – but for me it’s too loud, too messy and too downright unbelievable.

2.8 stars

Philip Caveney

The Remarkable Life of Ibelin

07/01/25

Netflix

Mats Steen (1989-2014) was only twenty-five when he died. The young Norwegian’s parents, Robert and Trude, had a lot to mourn: not only their son’s death but also the opportunities that had eluded him in life. Mats was born with Duchenne muscular dystrophy, an inherited disease that causes progressive muscle weakness. Although he could walk unaided as a child, by the time he reached adulthood, he could only move his fingers. Robert and Trude hated how limited Mats’ world was. He just played on his computer all day. He had no friends, had never been in love, rarely ventured beyond the four walls of his basement flat beneath their family home.

Or so they thought…

Reeling from his loss, Robert accessed Mats’ blog and left a message announcing his son’s death.

An avalanche of emails followed. And that’s when Robert and Trude discovered that, in fact, Mats had created a rich life for himself – online, within the World of Warcraft game. Here, he was Lord Ibelin Redmoore: a strong, handsome man, who went for a run every morning and socialised happily in the tavern at night. In role, he and his fellow gamers forged friendships, sharing secrets and heartaches, successes and fears. As Ibelin, in the mythical fantasy land of Azeroth, Mats was – ironically – more himself than he ever was in the real world, where too many people made judgements based on what they saw: at best pitying him; at worst assuming he was stupid.

Directed by Benjamin Ree, The Remarkable Life of Ibelin is an eye-opener, illuminating the power of RPGs. If other non-gamers are anything like me – and I suspect I’m fairly typical – they’ll have a vague idea of quests and shoot-’em-ups, but no real understanding of the games’ potency or potential. This documentary changes that.

Animators Rasmus Tukia and Ada Wikdahl bring Azeroth to the big screen, breathing life into Ibelin and the other avatars, including Mats’ first crush, Rumour (Lisette Roovers), and his friends, Reike (Xenia-Anni Neilson) and NikMik (MIkkel Neilson). The film cuts between home videos of Mats, talking heads of his family and friends, and cleverly animated sequences – creating a nuanced, layered biopic of a complex, intelligent young man.

There’s no denying that this is a heartbreaking piece of cinema; only the flintiest of hearts could fail to be moved. But it’s a celebration too – because Mats had many friends and made a lasting impact. Fantasy and reality are not just blurred, they’re inextricably bound.

4.3 stars

Susan Singfield