‘We are all on our path to University’ is really not so inspirational a mantra as the teacher who announces it to a group of troubled eleven year olds towards the start of H is for Harry believes. Neither is it revolutionary. In fact, the word reductive springs to mind. Not that directors Edward Owles and Jamie Taylor particularly pass comment. Theirs is a nicely made little feature – cutely produced and warm to the core – but frustrates as a documentary. Without the focus of a critical eye or narrative voice, the film ambles without real cause or impact.
Is it even possible to defend Serenity – this year’s most harshly pilloried film to date – without blowing its gargantuan twist right out of the water? Probably not, but let’s have an eager crack at it anyway. The pundits detest Stephen Knight’s latest creation but it’s actually pretty exceptional. Yes, it’s a somewhat sour-tasting bouillabaisse of ill-assorted ingredients. Yes, it’s disgustingly saccharine. And yes, it’s weirder than a smitten Tom Cruise. One to miss, though? Absolutely not.
It’s not a convention start to our interviews with Jeremy Wooding, Elinor Crawley and Aki Omoshaybi. But, then again, Burning Men is no conventional film. This is the story of two would be musicians who hit the road in an attempt to raise cash enough to fund a relocation to the USA but get more than they bargained on trying to flog a stolen black metal vinyl.
The Film Blog 