Parky At the Pictures (13/3/2026)

(Reviews of La Grazia; The Tasters; Broken English; and One Last Deal)

LA GRAZIA.

Director Paolo Sorrentino and actor Toni Servillo have formed one of the great partnerships in modern cinema history. Each made his debut with

L'uomo in più/One Man Up (2001), with Servillo playing an ageing crooner. He was a lonely businessman with Mafia connections in Le conseguenze dell'amore/The Consequences of Love (2004) and a grasping money lender in L'amico di famigli/The Family Friend (2006). Two years later, he excelled as divisive seven-time prime minister, Giulio Andreotti, in Il Divo (2008), while his performance as disillusioned writer Jep Gambardella helped La grande bellezza/The Great Beauty (2013) win the Golden Globe, the BAFTA, and the Academy Award for Best Foreign Language Film. Slipping back into biopic, the pair took a pop at Silvio Berlusconi in Loro (2018) before Servillo took on the role of Sorrentino's father in the semi-autobiographical delight, È stata la mano di Dio/The Hand of God (2021).

Now, they return for an eighth collaboration on La Grazia (2025), a state of the nation treatise that earned the pair awards at the Venice Film Festival and nominations at the European Film Awards. Fittingly, for a political drama set in Rome, it is showing in London on the Ides of March under the auspices of CinemaItaliaUK before going on general release.

After opening captions outline the duties of the Italian president, Mariano De Santis (Toni Servillo) comes on to the roof of the Palazzo del Quirinale to have a crafty smoke and lament the passing of his beloved wife, Aurora, eight years earlier. He is in the White Semester of his term and he wonders what he can get away with not achieving in his last six months. Daughter Dorotea (Anna Ferzetti) scolds him for smoking when he only has one lung and insists on him only having quinoa and white fish at his dinner with classmate and radical art critic, Coco Valori (Milvia Marigliano), who chats the hind legs of Prime Minister Giulio Malerba (Simone Colombari), when he's invited to dine after a discussion of a euthanasia bill that De Santis has doubts about as both a jurist and a Roman Catholic.

Surprised to learn from General Lanfranco Mare (Giuseppe Gaiani) that his nickname is `Reinforced Concrete', De Santis prepares to welcome the president of Portugal (Cesare Scova). Confiding in cuirassier, Colonel Massimo Labaro (Orlando Cinque), he admits to dozing off while praying and hopes he doesn't look as frail as his guest. He stands mortified, as the old man struggles to get out of his car and proceeds to get caught in a downpour, while shuffling past the guard of honour on a red carpet that trips him over when it blows up in the wind.

Over a cigarette on the roof, De Santis thinks back to first seeing Aurora as a young man after his family had moved north from the Neopolitan provinces. He had been bewitched by the image of her walking through a rural morning mist. But she had cheated on him and he had never been able to get over the betrayal, even though he misses her as much as the son, who is now a successful songwriter in Canada. Dorotea worries about him, but she's still willing to confront him over the euthanasia bill. She accuses him of cowardice for not signing it and dismisses his Catholic guilt because she feels people should own their own lives not some specious deity. He's still feeling troubled by her question, `Who owns our days?', when he visits the ponytailed pope (Rufin Doh Zeyenouin), who refuses to offer easy sympathy when De Santis complains of loneliness before riding through the papal gardens on a motorbike after urging the president not to sign `the law of death'.

On his birthday, De Santis receives a visit from former classmate, Ugo Romani (Massimo Venturiello), who is now minister of justice. He has hopes that his old friend will recommend him for the presidency, but it concerned that there may be a conflict of interest in one of the two cases he has submitted for pardons, as the female killer, Isa Rocca (Linda Messerklinger), is the niece of Romani's current partner. De Santis suspects he might have been Aurora's lover, but he doesn't know for sure. Dorotea gives him headphones to listen to gangsta rapper Guè on his phone, but he has to ask Labaro to set them up for him, as he has his nightly smoke. He wonders about the Italian astronaut floating above him, but his mind drifts back to Aurora's funeral, when he got out of his seat because he had the feeling his wife's lover was in the congregation.

Suspicious of Romani for trying to coax Dorotea into pardoning Isa Rocca for murdering the husband who had beaten her for 15 years, De Santis keeps a close eye on him. However, he also examines the papers pertaining to her case and that of Cristiano Arpa (Vasco Mirandola), a much-respected history teacher who had mercy killed the beloved wife who had Alzheimer's. While pondering the cases, De Santis is taken aback by the departing Lithuanian ambassador (Alexandra Gottschlich) asking him to show her around Rome when their postings end. As she is much younger and has shown no interest in women since losing his wife, he says nothing and fails to notice the regretful twinkle in her eye.

Dorotea goes to Turin to meet Isa Rocca. She greets her with a hard stare and says she can't judge the case because she has never been in love or felt betrayed. When Dorotea suggests her attitude won't help her cause, Isa tells her that she merely committed an act of euthanasia because the man she had adored had been broken by his obsessions and she had put him out of his misery so she could be with her lover. The exchange shakes Dorotea, who meets the lover when she goes for a coffee and she is touched by his loyalty. Hurt by the suggestion that she is not breathing, Dororea calls her brother and confesses that she is feeling the strain after six government crises in seven years and the prospect of what will become of their father when he steps down.

After De Santis stands in front of a screen showing a modern dance routine, he bawls at Coco to reveal the name of Aurora's lover. But she only confirms it wasn't Romani and insists that her promise to withhold the truth extends beyond death. Having refused to put down a favourite horse, in spite of it being in agony, De Santis suggests amendments to the euthanasia bill. But he refuses to sign it and warns Dorotea that he can't pardon Isa Rocca because of her connection to Romani. He admits that bureaucracy is sometimes an inconvenience, but it also prevents decisions from being taken in ill-advised haste. Frustrated, Dorothea slams the bill on the table and walks along a corridor, with each footstep on the wooden floor echoing loudly.

Having been moved by the silent sight of Engineer Giordano (Fabrizio Bordignon) shedding a tear in zero gravity, De Santis accuses Romani of cuckolding him. Declaring that his old friend has lost his mind, he leaves the room. De Santis goes to visit Elvis, the dying horse, and Dorotea asks why he can't have him put down - and he replies because he never asked him to die. Frustrated, she reminds him that Romani will sign the bill as soon as he takes office and announces that she is going to stay with her brother, as she can't stand the prospect of watching her father leave office. They admit they know little about each other because they are so buttoned-up. But she tells him that the statute of limitations has passed on her mother's adultery and she hugs him tightly after telling him to let go of the past and make changes so he can rediscover his excitement for life in retirement.

Having confessed his woes to the pope, who informs him he has grace, De Santis mourns the death of Elvis and tells secretaries Maria Gallo (Alessia Giuliani) and Domenico Samaritano (Roberto Zibetti) that he is going to travel to Milan to see the place where he first met Aurora and visit Cristiano Arpa in prison. as he is intrigued by the 73 year-old's refusal to read, exercise, or eat more than the bare minimum.

After singing a verse of his father's regimental song at a reunion dinner, De Santis returns to the farmhouse where he had grown up. He tells Labaro that he intends resigning two weeks before his time is up so he can retain the vote in the next presidential election. Labaro commends him on his astuteness and De Santis deadpans that he had heard about his reputation for intelligence. He calls on the mayor of Arpa's town (Lucio Zagaria) and asks for his views on the petition. He admits he didn't sign it because his wife dislikes Arpa and suspects him of fooling everyone by secretly being unfaithful. De Santis is intrigued by his insight and asks Mare if he's making a mistake in visiting him. The general admits it's unusual, but says everyone does something out of character sometimes - he once smoked a joint confiscated from his son's room. But it had no effect as he didn't know how to inhale, unlike De Santis, who takes a long draw on his cigarette, as he ponders his next act.

He meets Arpa in the same rainbow-decorated room in which Dorotea had seen Isa Rocca. De Santis asks Arpa if he misses teaching, but he claims he taught no one, as he merely acted out the textbook for the amusement of his students. Asked if he also acted at home, Arpa refuses to answer and, denying the charge of adultery, challenges the accusation that letting himself die contradicts a promise to live in his last letter to his wife before he strangled her. He shrugs when De Santis says murder out of love is an overused defence. But he makes the president think when he says he just wants to forget and feel light again, as De Santis had said something similar about his fixation with Aurora's infidelity. He's also struck by Arpa's declaration that it isn't always possible to abide by one's principles.

Following a warm reception at La Scala, De Santis confesses to Coco that he wishes he could dream. She is touched by his words and reveals that she had been Aurora's lover. He holds back the tears and holds his friend's hand, as they drive in the darkness. A few days later, he leaves office and shakes hands with a long line of his staff. When Samaritano apologises for them not getting along, De Santis thanks him for the elegant way in which they had handled their antipathy. He asks Labaro if he can walk to his apartment and people on the pavement nod, as he walks past surrounded by security guards and led by a robotic police dog.

One day, he sees the Lithuanian ambassador going past and he decides to call the editor of Vogue (Ornella Amodio), who had been pestering him to do an article on his dress sense. Protesting that he is a dull, grey man, he wanders through Aurora's wardrobe, he had described her colours and the way she had reacted to a compliment, shortly before she died, when he had called her `my girl'. Reining in his emotions, he informs the editor that he signed the euthanasia bill because his daughter had convinced him and because he had realised that the grace the pope had told him about is the ability to recognise the beauty of doubt.

As Isa Rocca sits in her cell, Cristiano Arpa goes on day release. When Dorotea and brother Riccardo (Francesco Martino) face time him, De Santis reveals that he freed the former because she had no choice but to kill her husband because she loved him too much to leave him (even though he would keep battering her), while he denied the latter because he had never really loved his wife. Riccardo plays his father his latest song, which incorporates the beep of the space station's communication feed and De Santis feels moved enough to imagine himself floating in his dark suit in the capsule.

Closing captions reveal that Isa and her lover broke up six month after her release, while Dorotea joined a dance class. Romani failed to win the presidency by a single vote and wags claim it was cast by De Santis. He continues to serve as a senator for life and has a light supper in his apartment each night with Coco. However, she keeps telling him to get off her back, as he clearly mithers her for details of her fling with Aurora.

More than a riposte to populism in all its appalling forms, this fine film also serves as a timely reminder of the need for dignity and responsibility in high office. Sorrentino's screenplay contains echoes of the views he experessed with such trenchancy in Il divo and Loro. But he's less intent on critiquing here than in extolling the virtue of looking before leaping when it comes to making policy and passing laws. We never learn anything about the six crises that De Santis averted, but the respect he commands from his people is evident among both the toffs at the opera and the ordinary Romans who don't reach for their phone, but pause in admiration for a man who had seemingly acted out of their best interests.

Contrasting his reluctant readiness to do his duty with Romani's naked ambition, Sorrentino slightly pushes his luck in making Isa Rocca the niece of the justice minister's partner, as it would seem unlikely that they would move in the same circles. Nevertheless, he atones with the marvellous scene between De Santis and the small-town mayor, as they push through the niceties of protocol to edge closer to the truth. The fact that both men adore their wives makes the scene even more amusing, as no women appear to hold cabinet posts, despite Dorotea's obvious talent, Valeria's discreet efficiency, Coco's straight-talking prudence, and Isa's doughty sense of self-worth.

All four performance are excellent, with Anna Ferzetti deftly tinting her filial devotion with moral frustration. But such is the magnitude of Toni Servillo's performance that it's almost impossible to take one's eyes off him. He doesn't give much away, with his face remaining largely impassive. Yet seeking to derive meaning from his expressions immerses viewers in both his personal and political dilemmas, while also giving them an idea of what it must feel like to shoulder the burdens of state when principle and conscience matter more than self-advancement and social media likes. One or two megalomaniacal incumbents around the world might well burst into flames if they were forced to sit down and watch this.

This isn't all about the content, however. Daria D'Antonio's cinematography is exceptional, whether capturing the rustic morning haze through which De Santis first caught sight of his lady love or engulfing him in the crepuscular gloom that accentuates the solemnity of his situation. The slow-motion arrival of the Portuguese president is excruciatingly well-staged, as is the intimate moment between De Santis and Coco in the back of the car after she makes her confession. Equally noteworthy are the exchanges with the Lithuanian ambassador and the diffident mayor, which are both quietly amusing and unexpectedly poignant.

Ludavica Ferrario's production design, Carlo Poggioli's costumes, and Cristiano Travaglioli's editing are also first rate, as is Mirko Perri's sound design, which employs sudden bursts of echo, music, or shouting to counterpoint the president's contemplative stillness. Sorrentino's films have always looked good, but the visuals here are of Great Beauty calibre and that is high praise indeed. Moreover, by reining in the operatic flamboyance for which he has become renowned, Sorrentino has produced a parable on the use of power that should remind us all of the standards we should expect of our elected representatives if democracy is to emerge in one piece from our age of self-serving plutocrats peddling deep-fake imagery, unverified `facts', and hate-fuelled paranoia.

THE TASTERS.

Silvio Soldini has been making films for over 40 years. There was a moment when he caught the attention of British distributors, with Bread and Tulips (1999) and Agata and the Storm (2004). But solid offerings like Days and Clouds (2007) and Come Undone (2012) failed to break out of the festival circuit and he only now returns to the UK release schedule with The Tasters. Based on the queried experiences of Margot Wölk that inspired Rosella Postorino's novel, Le assaggiatrici/At the Wolf's Table, this offers a troubling insight into the twisted logic of life inside the Third Reich.

The morning after she arrives in Gross-Partsch from Berlin in the autumn of 1943, Rosa Sauer (Elissa Schlott) is taken from the farm of her in-laws, Herta (Esther Gemsch) and Joseph (Jürgen Wink), to the Krausendorf barracks close to the Wolf's Lair, the East Prussian headquarters of Adolf Hitler. Husband Gregor is missing on the Eastern Front and Rosa is powerless to prevent herself from being bussed to the compound with six other apprehensive women.

Shown into a room, Leni Brunner (Emma Falck), Sabine Gross (Kriemhild Hamann), Heike Neumann (Olga von Luckwald), Augustine Pohler (Thea Rasche), Ulla Richter (Berit Vander), and Elfriede Kuhn (Alma Hasun) are called before Rosa to be examined to check they are healthy. They are then ushered into a room, where they are told to sit at a long table and eat the foot set before them. Leni tucks in unquestioningly and smirks at the others, as food is in short supply and her dish is delicious. It's only after the stop eating, however, that the chef informs them that they must wait an hour to check that there are no signs that the food has been poisoned. Suddenly, the women look at each other in panic, as the chef (Boris Aljinovic) reassures them that he personally overseas Führer's meals from kitchen to table - but one can never be too certain.

Watched by two officers, the women wait until the chef gives the all clear. Leni sobs on Rosa's shoulder, while one is chastised when she tries to vomit. Joseph is furious when he hears what is going on and tells Rosa to run away. But Herte's ears prick up when she reveals they are being paid 200 marks a month. The chef informs them that he is also using them to test new ingredients and asks for their opinion after the meal. During a break between lunch and dinner, Leni sits next to Rosa on a swing and tells her about the others. Sabine adores Hitler and sends him embroidered pillows for his birthday, while Ulla is a loner rebel. Heike's husband went to school with Gregor, but Augustine lost her's and has become withdrawn while raising her son alone. Elfriede lost her parents and now lives with her uncle, who is the local pastor.

Rosa tells Leni how she had been a secretary at the factory where Gregor had been an engineer. But he had been called up a month after the wedding and she had only seen him once since. She offers Lenin one of the dresses her mother had made, but incurs the wrath of Augustine, who tells her they don't like city slickers in the country. After the meal, Sabine asks the chef about his favourite dishes and he describes desserts with whipped cream and honey. He also informs them that Hitler became a vegetarian after being disturbed by the sound of sloshing flesh during a visit to an abattoir. This annoys Joseph, who resents Rosa being treated like a guinea pig.

Overjoyed when Gregor sends a letter saying he will be home for Christmas, Rosa tells the other women, who are happy for her, apart from Augustine. When she receives word that he is missing in action, Rosa takes to her bed and is manhandled into the truck in just her nightgown. Augustine smirks that the Berliner is no longer so sophisticated and they have to be separated after Rosa slaps her. An offier admonishes the soldier who kicks Rosa when she's down, but the mood remains sombre as the women eat and Rosa is berated when she suddenly gulps down her dish and grabs something off another plate.

Elfriede gives her a hug during a break, but they see little of each other until May 1944, as Hitler has left the Wolf's Lair. Rosa writes to Gregor in the hope he will eventually read the letters. But the Führer's train returns and the women are reunited in the courtyard. However, SS lieutenant Albert Ziegler (Max Riemelt) had been appointed to supervise them and he takes exception to Elfriede smoking and Ulla telling fortunes with cards. He makes them snap into a `Heil Hitler' on dismissing them and makes sure Rosa and Elfriede know that he's in charge.

Wandering along a corridor during a break, Rosa hears music and Ziegler challenges her for being outside his office. She tells him she used to be in a choir in Berlin, but no longer feels the joy to sing. When Heike feels unwell at the table, Ziegler forces her to eat, even unnerving the chef, who had been telling Sabine about Hitler being twitchy and fussing about the mosquitoes and frogs in the surrounding woods.

One night, Rosa thinks she hears someone outside in the darkness and peers through the window. When it happens a third time, she flashes her bedroom light and a torch signals back. Venturing outside, she is bundled into the barn by Ziegler and they have vigorous sex. The folly of the incident hits her next day, when Heike discloses she is pregnant by the young boy helping her out at the shop and she is terrified that her soldier husband will find out. As she used to work in a hospital, Elfriede offers to perform an abortion, but the others are worried because it's against the law and carries the death penalty.

Feeling guilty because Herta had a dream in which Gregor told her to look after his wife, Rosa can't resist sleeping with the married Ziegler, as he's a cultured man, who was scared as a boy by his teacher father making him read gravestones and warning that the dead will punish any mistakes. She feels a pang when she chats to Elfriede after the abortion, but reveals she has a brother in America and admits that she's not the goody two-shoes everyone supposes her to be.

During their next tasting, the chef is complaining about a lack of butter when both Ulla and Rosa vomit and convulse on the floor. Ziegler calls for medics, but won't let the other women help them and orders the kitchen staff to be brought to his office. Elfriede is taken to the infirmary with Ulla and Rosa and they are forced to eat at gunpoint the next day when they refuse to keep putting themselves at risk. The chef reassures them that great care has been taken over the menu and reminds them that as Hitler has to eat, so do they.

Elfriede tells Rosa that the Americans are in France and they wonder if they should hope for defeat. Angry at Ziegler for not showing any concern when she fell ill, she refuses to come to the barn and he has her brought to his office. She says she wants to end things, but he kisses her passionately and they meet that night, with her laughing at his anecdote about Hitler's singing dog, Blondi. He also tells her that they honey had been poisoned on the day she was sick, but it was a freak of nature not sabotage. When he wakes one night in a panic, however, and tells her about his nightmare, she realises that he has shot Jewish men, women, and children and she curses herself for having lost her head over a monster.

In July 1944, she lets slip to Elfriede that the honey had been poisoned and claims to have worked it out herself, as only they and Ulla had eaten the desert. She is spared by an explosion in the nearby Lion's Den and there is panic, as the women are herded into the dining room. Joseph tells Herta and Rosa that Hitler is dead, but he broadcasts that night to denounce Claus von Stauffenberg and his co-conspirators and Joseph curses that the Führer is immortal.

The women are moved into a dormitory in the compound and Rosa refuses Ziegler's advances when he summons her to his office. He calls her a whore and mocks her protests of innocence, as he insists that all Germans have known what has been going on in their name. By November 1944, it's clear to all but Sabine that defeat is coming and Leni panics at the prospect of being raped by a Red Army soldier. Unable to sleep, Elfriede tells Rosa that her real name is Edna Kopfstein and that the pastor is risking his life to protect her. They think they have heard the train leave, but are now worried about what will happen if they are sent home with everyone knowing how they have been employed.

As they pack to leave, Sabine reports Elfriede for terminating an unborn German life and a patrol comes to the farmhouse to search for her. Joseph and Herta urge Rosa to leave before the Russians arrive and she returns to Krausendorf to ask Ziegler to help her. He demands to know Elfriede's whereabouts, but agrees to help Rosa on to a train if she will meet him a final time. He pulls away when he realises that Rosa is lying impassively and bids her a curt farewell.

No sooner has he gone than Rosa tells Elfriede to come out of her hiding place and informs her that they are going to flee on a hospital train the next day. However, Ziegler is on the platform and he shoots Elfriede when she tries to run away. Pulling Rosa away from the corpse, he carries her on his shoulder and deposits her in a cattle truck. As Rosa notices the blood on her hand, a freeze frame cuts to a caption revealing that Margot Wölk had kept quiet about her time as a taster until she gave an interview to her local paper at the age of 95 in 2012.

What the captions don't tell us is that Wölk returned to Berlin, where she was repeatedly raped by the Soviet troops occupying the city. However, she was reunited her husband, Karl, in 1946 and they remained together until his death in 1980. The captions also omit to mention that historians doubt Wölk's claims, as there is no documentary evidence of the tasters ever being at Krausendorf. Moreover, as Hitler started to suffer from intestinal trouble, his meals were prepared in a kitchen in the Wolf's Lair, which was several kilometres from the barracks, a distance that has prompted some to question Wölk's story because the food prepared there would have cooled down on the journey.

These historical details make it difficult to view Soldini's film without a degree of scepticism, especially as the tale told in Rosella Pastorini's novel is so unerringly melodramatic. As part of a screenwriting sextet that includes Cristina Comencini, Soldini has chosen to present the narrative as a series of episodic passages that don't necessarily segue smoothly. Augustine's initial hostility towards Rosa is dropped without resolution (and with it goes any sense of the political and socio-geographic divisions within the Third Reich), while too little is made of Sabine's fanatical faith in Hitler as the father of the volk. Ulla is also left undeveloped after much is made of her being an independent spirit, while the revelation of Elfriede's true identity feels like a dramatic contrivance, as does the clumsy way in which Leni alerts Sabine to Heike's pregnancy.

It also seems odd that Joseph and Herta never hear Rosa creeping out for her nocturnal trysts with Ziegler, while none of the women comment on the fact that Rosa is so frequently summoned to the lieutenant's office, when no one else is. Yet, in spite of the implausibilities and incongruities, this keeps the viewer involved through the strength of the production values and the sincerity of the performances.

Elisa Schlott does well enough, but she never really conveys the emotions that Rosa feels for a husband she barely knows or the passion that develops for Ziegler, who remains something of a cipher, in spite of the intensity displayed by Max Riemelt, as Soldini seeks to explore the rarely cinematically discussed topic of the psychological impact of wartime barbarity upon those in Nazi uniform. He might have dwelt more, however, on the mindset of the German people, as the prospect of defeat and recrimination loomed larger. Too few of the tasters are sufficiently rounded for those playing them to make much impression, although Swiss actress Esther Gemsch is so deft one wishes Soldini had dwelt more on Herta's relationship with the daughter-in-law she barely knows.

Paola Bizzarri's production design and Marina Roberti's costumes provide an authentic atmosphere, although Mauro Pagani's score booms a little intrusively at each moment of dramatic significance. Editor Carlotta Cristiani also overdoes the blackouts transitions, although there would have been approved by Soldini, whose direction is most effective when he trains Renato Berta's camera on the women's expressions across the table, as they eat. He might have focussed more on the dishes, as the chef describes them so lovingly, as this might have reinforced the grotesqueness of the situation, as the women get to sample sweet and savoury delicacies while their compatriots are starving. And what makes their plight all the more perplexing is the fact that none of the dishes, with the exception of those containing naturally addled honey, pose no threat whatsoever to the vegetarian dictator, who has less problem with slaughtering humans than he does animals.

BROKEN ENGLISH.

Film-makers Iain Forsyth and Jane Pollard tend not to do things the conventional way, as they demonstrated with their BAFTA-nominated Nick Cave documentary, 20,000 Days on Earth (2014), and the compelling musical portrait, The Extraordinary Miss Flower (2024). Now they turn their attention to Marianne Faithfull and it's safe to say that Broken English couldn't be more different from Alexis Bloom and Svetlana Zill's Catching Fire: The Story of Anita Pallenberg (2023).

As Record Keeper (George MacKay) prepares to interview Marianne Faithfull, the Overseer (Tilda Swinton) of the Ministry of Not Forgetting reminds him that his job is to record memory and resonance during his discussion. The Overseer speaks into a dictaphone, as she affirms that the project aims to ensure Faithfull is given her due as being much more than just Mick Jagger's girlfriend.

Wearing a canula to take oxygen in the wake of her Covid coma, Faithfull comes into the Record Keeper's room with a glint in her eye, as she seeks to set the record straight. She mocks monochrome footage of Rolling Stones manager Andrew Loog Oldham claiming he discovered a girl with no talent at a party and turned her into a star. Abetted by the Record Keeper, she reminds everyone that she had a folk singing career before she became a pop princess and we see a clip of her singing `Sunny Goodge Street'. Clearly she prefers that incarnation to the myth described in the sleeve notes for her 1965 self-titled debut pop album.

The conversation shifts to D.A. Pennebaker's Don't Look Back (1967), when Faithfull duetted with Joan Baez on `As Tears Go By', while Bob Dylan typed her a love poem. She sang the same song a cappella in Jean-Luc Godard's Made in USA (1966) and these clips serve as a preamble to Beth Orton giving her own sincere, but redundant rendition.

Married to Indica Gallery co-owner John Dunbar, Faithfull gave birth to her son, Nicholas. She is pleased to see Dunbar when he joins her in the studio and they enjoy looking back at footage of the 1965 International Poetry Incarnation at the Royal Albert Hall and remembers the influence of the Beats on her own approach to writing lyrics.

After some pretentious musical noodling around a narrated thread, we learn how Faithfull was shaped by the Braziers Park commune near Wallingford in Oxfordshire run by her father, Dr Glynn Faithfull, as it taught her to be receptive to culture stimuli and she took great pleasure in sharing her enthusiasms with friends and lovers, including Mick Jagger.

She also delighted in speaking her mind in interviews. Faithfull confides to the Record Keeper that she and Jagger had taken LSD the night before the 1968 interview with Michael Barrett, in which she had advocated anarchy. The Overseer is intrigued by this aspect of Faithfull's life, as she felt the establishement was worried she would empower women and girls to stand up for themselves. So, a forum of intellectuals including Sophie Fiennes, Sophia Guillory, Katy Hessel, Natasha Khan, and Harriet Vyner, is assembled with Edith Bowman in the chair. They assess Faithfull's legacy with insight and eloquence, but they take up space that should have been reserved for Faithfull herself, even though she doesn't want to discuss the Redlands bust, when she was pictured on the front page of numerous newspapers as `a naked girl wrapped in a fur rug'. The sages rightly denounce the misogyny of such coverage and speculate about an establishment plot to take down Faithfull and the Stones. But Faithfull's snippets about Jagger being dull compared to Keith Richards and how she and Anita Pallenberg were willing fellow travellers who saw being part of the entourage as a worthwhile endeavour are far more intriguing

The Record Keeper raises the subject of `Sister Morphine', the 1969 single that was recorded with the Stones. We don't hear that version, but a cover by Suki Waterhouse, which is again well meant, but a pale imitation. But it's followed by a clip from an interview in which Faithfull bemoans the fact her single was pulled from shelves after three days when no one batted an eyelid when the Stones included it on Sticky Fingers. She regrets not protesting at the time, but shrugs that things were different then, even though they shouldn't have been.

Two ministry assistants (Sophia Di Martino and Zawe Ashton) discuss the complex whirl of events involving Mick, Keith, and Anita in the mid-60s, when Marianne miscarried her child with Mick and had to bounce back two weeks later to sing `Something Better' on The Rolling Stones Rock and Roll Circus (1968). Lightening the mood is a clip from Ruby Wax's 1999 chat show, in which Pallenberg and Faithfull joke about sleeping with Jagger. But things turned dark in 1969, with Brian Jones dying shortly after leaving the Stones and being memorialised at the Concert in the Park. But Jagger doesn't attend the funeral because he's going to Australia for Tony Richardson's Ned Kelly (1970), which cast Faithfull as his sister. However, she wound up in a six-day coma after taking around 150 barbituates in Sydney and blamed her suicide attempt on Richardson for failing to stop her when she was in trouble while playing Ophelia in Hamlet (1969).

When the Record Keeper asks if darkness is necessary for great art, Faithfull snorts, `Fuck, no!' But she recognises it's a great hook. She watches misty eyed, as her post-rehab self admits having no excuse for trying to kill herself. But she claims that Swinburne, Baudelaire, and Poe all influenced her desire to die `in a special maelstrom way' and she acknowledges the `decadent thrill' she felt about her situation while recovering in hospital.

Faithfull ended this interview with John Fielding by stating a desire to disappear from public view. During that time, she lived for a spell on a wall in Soho. But she returned on Live From Two in 1980 to promote `Broken English' and ran into a phalanx of chauvinist interviewers that included Tony Wilson and Russell Harty. Turning to the Record Keeper, she says she has lived `a rather lovely life' and she has no time for those who sought to judge or demonise her.

Longtime songwriting partner Barry Reynolds lauds the way Faithfull has kept relevant, as we hear a clip from an interview in which she insists she hasn't always turned her pain into art. But she admits addicts often take their rage out on themselves and this realisation fuelled `Times Square', on which Courtney Love jams with Thurston Moore. Again, it's a gutsy performance, but why not just let Faithfull sing for herself - because it's a film about her not those who admire her. The same goes in spades for `Why D'Ya Do It?', which is filmed pop video-style, with Jehnny Beth lip-synching and Kate Coyne dancing, while casting shadows on to a wall. It's solid stuff, but we've just heard archive audio of Faithfull cracking up about the song being offered to Tina Turner - surely, we have to hear her version here, not a tribute cover?

Following a clip from her discussion of addition with Terry Wogan and some more pompous waffling into the dictaphone, Faithfull sees footage of the rehearsals for Kurt Weill's The Seven Deadly Sins (1998), which must have had a poignancy for her, as her Hungarian-born mother, Eva (with whom she had lived on the breadline in Reading as a child), had danced in Weill/Brecht productions in Weimar Germany (even though she didn't think much of her daughter's voice). We also see a clip of her belting out `Pirate Jenny' and all the previous misgivings about using covers not originals get double underlined, as this is dynamic, dangerous, and brilliant.

The same goes for `Ballad of Lucy Jordan', which comes after a montage of miniscule clips from various film roles, including The Girl on a Motorcycle (1968) that are used to support the contention that Faithfull lost herself in her roles, even when she was singing. Testimonials to her genius follow from the likes of Rufus Wainwright, Cyndi Lauper, Warren Ellis, Nick Cave, and Keith Richards. The one that moves her most comes from producer Hal Willner, the partner who had succumbed to Covid when she had survived. She also enjoys hearing part of the recordings they made with Beat poet Gregory Corso before he died.

The Record Keeper wonders if Faithfull had attempted so much to prove to herself she could do it and she nods quietly, as if just realising that about herself. She feels sad that so many of her friends have gone, but she hopes the love has not been wasted. The Overseer delivers a final speech about the Negative Capability album being Faithfull's masterpiece. But she also curses the fact society refuses to give female artists the same respect as their male counterparts. She also reveals that Marianne Faithfull had died before filming was finished and introduces the last song she ever performed, `Misunderstanding', through which she beams smiles at Nick Cave and Warren Ellis in a way that almost made everything all right. It had been a lovely life, after all.

You have to love Tilda Swinton, as she commits so wholeheartedly to everything she does. But the wraparound conceit in which she finds herself entangled here comes darn close to ruining an otherwise compelling documentary. As mentioned above, the tribute acts don't work, either. Nor does the debating chamber. But Ms Faithfull clearly approved the Ministry approach and Forsyth and Pollard have to be commended for dong things their own way.

They also merit praise for the superb archive material they have unearthed and for the inspired casting of George MacKay as the interviewer, as his rapport with Faithfull coaxes her into letting her guard slip on a couple of occasions. But he also has a charming way of catching Faithfull unawares with the little compliments he drops in alongside the gushing enthusiasms. There's no acting here. This is someone respectfully fascinated with his companion and determined to let her do herself justice.

As `Don't Go' plays over the credits, it's hard not to shed a tear, as Faithfull displays such courage and a noble lack of vanity in her final interview. But her last hurrah with Ellis and Cave is the heartbreaker, as she so obviously loves them both and adores performing. There can be no better swan song in recent cinema history.

Editor Luke Clayton Thompson plays a blinder, as does production designer, Alison Dominitz, for, while the Ministry of Not Forgetting feels preciously self-satisfied from the outset, its Kafkaesque headquarters are disarmingly atmospheric, with their roller racking, analog gadgetry, record cards, and evidence walls. Everyone within them plays their part admirably, including Derek Jacobi, as the narrator who is criticised for being overly conventional. But the central interview deserves a less distracting and chi-chi showcase.

ONE LAST DEAL.

Agents are one of the main reasons why football is in the mess it's currently in. Their avarice has seen fees and salaries inflate beyond sustainability , while their manipulative cossetting has turned ambitious young talents from around the world into an elite of entitled egomaniacs who will do whatever it takes to bolster their brand and boost their bonuses...er, sorry, win. This rant is a justifiable starting point for a review of Brendan Muldowney's One Last Deal.

Jimmy Banks (Danny Dyer) is an agent with one client. He was the leading scorer in the Premier League last season, but Matt Gravish (Elliott Rogers) has spent the summer in court on a rape charge and the new £350,000 a week contract that Banks has just negotiated for him with American club owner Ned Glaver (Demetri Goritsas) is dependent upon a not guilty verdict. Banks drops the story with TV news editor Monica Roberts (Tamsin Greig) and gloats that he's about to get back into the big time,

As he's strumming along on a ukulele to Harry Nilsson's `Coconut', Banks gets a call from his daughter, Stephanie (Natasha O'Keefe), who invites him to dinner to celebrate her birthday. He apologise for forgetting and promises to dig up some cash to help ex-wife afford the repairs to the house he gave her in their divorce settlement. In a panic, he contacts partner Robert Wentworth (Jason Flemyng) to check his ex knows nothing about the hidden profits from a Polish property deal and promises they will celebrate once Gravish's is signed up.

Needing a back-up plan, however, Banks phones Jerome Sweet (Chip), a boyfriend of Stephanie's who has had a prolific pre-season. He offers to hook him up with Real Madrid sporting director, Roberto Sanchez (Carlos Bardem), who asks Banks whether rehab worked after his cocaine addiction. Their call is interrupted when Banks gets an email containing an audio clip of Gravish threatening the girl who accused him of rape and an anonymous caller using a voice disguise device demands £2 million to make the incriminating recordings disappear. The speaker gives Banks two hours to find the cash.

Frightened and furious, Banks gulps down a couple of drinks and calls Robert to demand the number of the investigating cop they had bribed to delete all audio evidence from Gravish's phone. DCI Garrity (Katy Kavanagh-Jupe) is angry at being called, but agrees to see what she can find out about the recording and any possible blackmailer.

While he's waiting, Banks patches Sweet through to Sanchez and he tempts him with the prospect of joining Real. On discovering Sweet only has a handshake agreement with his current agent, he punches the air. But his mood sours when Garrity calls back to inform him that the recordings don't relate to the live case, but maybe earlier. She demands 10% of the £2 million to trace the email address and Banks agrees. However, the blackmailer sends a new clip that is even more damning and gives him 10 minutes to stump up the dough.

Not wasting any time, Banks calls Sweet's CEO, Kristy Brody (Dagmar Döring), and persuades her to do a deal with Sanchez. When he patches them to a conference call, however, she makes an outlandish demand and Banks has to finesse things to swing the deal. It all depends on Sweet signing on the dotted line, but Banks is confident that he has just made £3 million to offset the Gravish issue.

Thus, when the blackmailer calls back, Banks tells him to sling his hook and mocks his Darth Vader voice device. Slugging back the best part of a bottle, as he dances to `Three Lions', he collapses on his sofa and wakes some time later to call Sweet to remind him to come and sign his contract. However, he wants to back out and Banks blows everything by drunkenly ranting at him about throwing away the chance of a lifetime.

Moreover, Banks insults Stephanie when he calls to ask for her help and he realises he's blown both the Sweet deal and left Gravish open to more accusations. He messages the blackmailer to agree to the terms, only to find the fee has doubled and he smashes a photo of himself and Stephanie in wiping everything off the top of his desk. Picking up on the caller telling him that he should know why he is tormenting him, Banks surmises that he must know the blackmailer and tries to work out who it could be. But he also knows the clock is ticking and he calls Wentworth to ask how much he has in the Polish slush fund. He urges him not to pay and accept that he's washed up as an agent, but Banks screams back that he lives, breathes, and sweats his job - as it's his whole identity.

Crawling out from under his desk, Banks tells the blackmailer that he's not going to pay. However, he sends a recording of Gravish asking him about the bent cop who could make the charge go away and he knows he's got no option than to pay the £3,7 million in his Polish account. He's given 10 minutes to make the transfer. Feeling he's got no option, Banks shovels a handful of pills into his mouth, just as he sees that Gravish has been acquitted. Scrambling to the phone, he calls Wentworth and tells him to pay the blackmailer because the Gravish deal can be salvaged and he will remain in business. Wentworth has doubts, but Banks insists and warns him that his name is in the recording and that he will go to prison unless he sees sense.

Just as Wentworth confirms the payment, Garrity calls to say she's cracked the IP address and wants £400,000 to make an arrest and get hold of all the recordings. Banks asks for the address so he can see his persecutor get their just desserts, but realises that 157 Wrenstone Road in Chelsea is Stephanie's art gallery. It costs him another hundred grand to stop Garrity raiding the place and he calls his daughter to say he's rumbled her. She thanks him for the money and rubs it in by saying Sweet helped her because he had almost ruined his career with a fumbled academy deal years before.

Banks tries to apologise, but Stephanie has one more recording for him to hear. He sobs on hearing her voice on the tape and swears he had no idea that Gravish had been abusing her all the time Banks had been representing him. She snaps back when he asks how he could have done this to him because he's not the victim. All he has ever thought about is money and he has lied and turned a blind eye to ensure he came out on top. As the sports news shows Gravish in his new kit, Stephanie congratulates Banks on his triumph. She promises not to release the recordings, but knows her father will finally know the price for his percentage.

Calling Gravish, Banks informs him that he knows all about him and wants nothing more to do with him. The player pleads for support and claims he's willing to seek help. But Banks turns down an offer of an increased cut of the deal because that won't buy back his soul. He writes a confession and sends it to Monica Roberts, who calls to assure him that she will keep the woman's voice out of the broadcast clips and they joke about him needing a good lawyer. As he sits waiting for the cops, Banks watches phone footage of Stephanie as a child, when he had promised as she did handstands that he would never let her fall.

Although Peter Howlett's scenario would probably work better as a stage play than a film, experienced Irish director Brendan Mulodowney keeps Narayan Van Maele's camera moving around Mark Kelly's well-designed set to capture the restless energy that Danny Dyer brings to the role of his anti-JerryMaguire. The character of the sharkish agent plays right into his cussing diamond geezer wheelhouse. But Banks's decline and fall allows Dyer to demonstrate his range, as drink and despair threaten to tip him over the edge until he is forced to face the sobering reality.

It's not that difficult to work out who is behind the blackmail plot, but the mystery element is far less important than the exposé of the darker side of the beautiful game, where the vast sums of money involved can tempt people off the straight and narrow. Given that Dyer's son-in-law is West Ham star, Jared Bowen, there's something bold about him playing a father who fails to see the harm that has been inflicted upon his daughter right under his nose. But there's nothing gimmicky about the sordid nature of the storyline or the decision to keep the supporting cast (that includes Tamsin Greig and Jason Flemyng) off screen so that the focus remains entirely on Banks and the emotional wrenches he endures over the course of a highly charged day.

More might have been made of Jo Whiley informing us over the radio that temperatures in London were going to hit 40°, as Dyer rarely looks that hot under the collar considering his desk fan is broken. Nevertheless, he puts on a persuasive display that would translate into a tour de force one-man show.