To Moving Image! Or rather not to Moving Image on Tuesday evening. We did have plans to go along to the village cinema to catch the screening of The Essex Ways film. A quick shifty with the online trailer, and you can actually watch the whole film at home via YouTube. It would be rude not to.

Never say that I am keen on saving money, plus various household bits and bobs got in the way of a trip out to the village cinema. We made sure we had a clear path, so to speak, and then fired up the YouTube video with a strict rule of no phones or other distractions.

It’s more of an online film to watch, tbh than paying to watch it at a semi-pro village cinema. It follows the footsteps of James, a young man who decides to walk the Essex Way and record his adventures on camera.

I thought that we had walked the Essex Way a couple of months ago. My lack of local knowledge puts me to shame. We walked about a tenth of the Essex Way as we made our way from Manningtree over towards Harwich.

James completes the real serious business, pretty much circumnavigating the entire county, starting in Epping and then being washed up in Tilbury.

In between, he takes in many locations that are on the edge of our patch. The nearest he comes to us is Brightlingsea. Hesomehow manages to skirt away from Colchester. Walton, Frinton and Mersey Island all feature.

The film is a homage towards nature. There’s a very powerful message that is superbly told by James as he weaves in his personal narrative connected to the county, and a wider picture of declining nature and global warming.

We debated at first what time of year their film was shot. He mentions St. George’s Day midway through, which is the dead giveaway. It seems a perfect time of year to capture this county. Spring is pretty much in full bloom, and he seemed to have picked a favourable time when it comes to the weather.

It left me feeling that we have so much more to explore around these estuary wilds parts. He makes it to the other side of the Blackwater Estuary, something which, to my shame, I have yet to do.

He also addresses many of the Essex stereotypes. This is the great misunderstood county. I was surprised, and also very pleased, to hear him address class snobbery.

Within that, he also identified a north-south Essex divide. He came out with the conclusion of there being one Essex. He also managed to drop in the Crass slogan of the only war is the class war. Later in the credits, we see how Crass members were involved with the film.

His final destination of Tilbury seemed to symbolise what the whole film has been about. He describes being on the edges of London, with Tilbury being a mix of nature as well as something of a dumping ground. This is illustrated quite literally in the form of Tilbury being once a dumping ground for London.

There is optimism in the final scenes from Tilbury. Nature has reclaimed the slag heaps and is managing to work its wonders in disguising what London has done to the outer edges of the county. It was a very optimistic message in which to end.

I still have much more walking around these parts to do.

Screening at the Sunny Colch Odeon early afternoon on Monday as part of the cheapo cheapo deal was The Drama. This is a film in two parts: the preparation ahead of a wedding, and then the immediate fall out when a major, major life secret is shared.

Spoiler alert (although it is widely trailed in all the reviews): Emma, one half of the happy couple, reveals to her husband to be that she came close to carrying out a High School shooting massacre as a teenager.

awks, etc.

Much of the film then focusses on the reaction and inner-questioning coming from her fiancée, Charlie. He takes on very much the High Grant English uneasiness role, stuttering and running his hands through his hair with despair.

Not a lot actually happens in the film. It’s no action drama; dialogue is everything. It’s superbly written, with some scenes stretching out at ten minutes, keeping the suspense building up. I really enjoyed it.

The soundtrack has many Psycho like screeching moments. With shaky camera angles, you feel that you’re never too far away from something very, very disturbing. The wedding speeches scene is just brilliant.

Once the genie of the planned shootings are out of the bottle, there’s no putting them back in. It was uncomfortable viewing, but very rewarding.

To The Odeon! …in Sunny Colch on Monday afternoon. This is becoming something of a regular visit for me as part of the cheap as chips start of the week routine. £5 for a film on the big screen? Would you like to add food and drink before you check out? Would I chuff.

The grubby fiver film screenings do have their drawbacks. They attract a certain type of clientele. That clientele isn’t quite me just yet. But I do fear that I’m getting there. Sitting next to me for the screening of Glenrothan was a 60 plus couple. I now know more about than I would care to about Mr and Mrs Chatty.

They talked LOUDLY over the adverts. Fine, I’m cool with that. And then also the trailers. This got on my tits ever so slightly. One hour into the film and they still hadn’t SHUT THE FUCK UP. This was simply unacceptable. I bet they put their feet up on the train seats as well.

Having spoilt the first half of the film for me, I was determined not to let them get the better for what remained. I politely asked them to hold back on their general chit chat until they got home.

“FUCK OFF, YOU CUNT.”

What a charmer. But it did have the desired effect. The conversation ended, and they chose to actually take in what they had also paid a fiver for - which was a half decent film in Glenrothan.

But seriously, SOME people.

There’s a growing genre in cinema that I’m calling Local Hero 2.0. It’s essentially feel good films, usually centred around ideas of national identity. The genre can border around the fringes of Farage flag waving shit. But then it also cuts back with some more progressive ideas, both in terms of the script and appearances on screen.

And so joining the likes of Fisherman’s Friends and The Ballad of Wallis Island, here we have Glenrothan. It’s Brian Cox’s directional debut. He also takes up the role of Sandy, one half of the local Scottish whiskey distillery, alongside his rock ‘n’ roll brother, Donal.

The plot involves Donal losing his Blues club over in Chicago, and then having to confront what he left behind in Scotland over four decades ago. We’re talking family relationships, personal relationships, notions of identity etc.

It sounds pretty heavy stuff, but Local Hero 2.0 always allows for some strong humour. There’s a couple of lol lines - possibly more in the first half, but I couldn’t follow the full dialogue thanks to Mr and Mrs Chatty. The ending wasn’t sign posted, but it was a happy one.

Glenrothan is the type of film you see on a Sunday evening, and not a Monday lunchtime. Given my Sunny Colch Odeon experiences of late, Im not sure that you should see any film on a Monday lunchtime tbh.

We watched Saipan on Sunday - the Roy Keane Mick McCarthy spat of a film that attempts to capture the moment when the Man Utd star walked out of the Republic of Ireland’s training camp on the eve of the 2002 World Cup. It was originally released at the cinema in January. The film has already found its way as a freebie viewing on Prime. Make of that what you will.

It’s a slow burner, for sure. The entire film is centred around will he or won’t he walk away from the tatty team training facilities in Saipan? Given that we already know the outcome, the limited appeal is more in the dialogue and double headers between Keane and McCarthy. Both men give a sense of holding back and hiding away their feelings, right up until the epic profanity ridden fall out in front of the rest of the players.

Steve Coogan as Mick McCarthy just about gets away with it. He’s always one facial tick away from Partridge, but whatever character he plays, you always get authenticity. Éanna Hardwicke as Roy Keane is mean and moody. His simmering performance is captured more in what isn’t said, than any actual dialogue.

There’s plenty of cliches to keep the non-football crowd entertained, including a Britpop soundtrack that not only gets on your tits, but also feels slightly out of sync with the actual period itself. There’s no need for any spoiler alert: Keane walks, the Republic reach the last sixteen of the World Cup.

Ole, ole, etc.