Docos are tricky. Like short films they can ride (for a while) on the basic legs of a strong story; alternatively they can coast on high production values, smooth editing, and gripping 're-enactments' of key moments. Problems crop up when the story simply lacks interesting material or the production values are so profoundly bad that one feels bolted back into the Blair Witch Project, fighting for stomach control from the awful handheld camera work. So this leads us to the question of whether Lover Other: The Story Of Claude Cahun And Marcel Moore was an okay documentary or not.

Alligators in New York City sewers: pre-Gawker hype cache, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles-spurred paranoia, or just a further widening of the gap between unwashed enviros and the a-Pollock-for-every-mood types? However you cut it, proportionally little attention seems to be paid to the problem of bodies congesting Florida’s waterways – meaning, when your pet fish starts coughing up bits of ependyma, it probably isn’t gonna be a job for PETA. Night Moves closets a nautical skeleton, and you just know director Penn’s been dining on cine-euro’s marked remnants, ‘cos it only ventures to make its debut more than halfway through this stonewashed noir. Smiling and demure, the atrophied star intercedes the sight of a nymphal, barely-legal Melanie Griffith out skinny-dipping one night (incidentally, now also an atrophied star); but, more than charging her sexual current with an adverse voltage, it registers as a total, haunting aburdism, one that insidiously flips the hourglass on detective Harry Moseby’s (Gene Hackman) ‘case closed’.