Formed in 1932, Bradford Movie Makers was one of numerous amateur film-making societies in the north of England, a region that, says one member, might have rivalled Hollywood were it not for the disruption of the war. But in contrast to its heyday in the 1960s and 1970s (captured, appropriately, on scratchy Super 8 home movies), the club is now on its uppers. A headcount of its ageing membership barely scrapes into double figures; they haven’t paid the rent on their clubhouse for five years. And the building itself is shedding chunks of masonry and plaster, its creaky stairs a looming hazard to the hips of its increasingly doddery regulars.
But, as this terrific and very moving documentary shows, the society, fuelled by bickering, biscuits and cinephilia, is a lifeline for its members, who weather bereavements, loneliness and fiercely argued creative differences within its peeling walls. Lovely stuff.
