I was in bits at the opening sequence. I managed to just about hold it together for the rest. I fell in love with Eric more (even more)(I didn’t think it was possible, either). And much goosebumps ensued.

Do you like being wrong? I like being wrong. Do you like being wrong? I like being wrong. Love being wrong. Love it. Yeah. It’s great being wrong, isn’t it? Yeah …  I like being wrong. Really like being wrong. Really, love being wrong. Yeah. Yeah. Love IT! Yeah, really, REALLY love, love, LOVE being wrong. Yeah … you know the best thing about being wrong? The best thing about being wrong? Yeah, the BEST thing about being wrong? The best thing about being wrong is when your friends remind you, you were wrong. Yeah, LOVE being reminded when I was wrong. BEST THING! LOVE BEING WRONG!!

When I first heard this documentary film was being released, I was expecting a Christmas cash cow, and was happy to tell anyone within ear shot how it would inevitably take the form of a thrashed-out slash straight-to-video slash regurgitated montage off all those familiar clips; a pre-prescribed emotional mugging. It unequivocally is not that. The production spec is proper; this has been taken very seriously, by proper film-makers. But that’s not even the half of it.

As the six players eloquently talk us through their story (joyfully abetted by the two Erics: Harrison and Eric), we’re reminded, not only of how special their story is, but of just how integral to it their relationships with each other were and are. It’s no surprise then that the moments when the film really excels are when the players are gathered together over their tea. It’s they themselves who tell this story best and the creators of the documentary provide them with the perfectly understated platform to pitch it from here.

A couple of little things: I understand there’s a formula to documentary film-making and key to this is providing a social and political context for the main narrative, but (just throwing it out there) perhaps one or two of the external talking heads accepted the invitation primarily to indulge in some professional self-serving – I’m definitely looking at you Tony Blair (Boo!). For my personal taste, the film could have done without these asides – not you Mani, you’re alright – as the television and media footage that was interspersed throughout did the job more than adequately. I also thought we might find out what happened to a few of the other graduates. I’ll shut up.

Though it’s really hard for me to watch this film any way but subjectively, I think there is enough in the relationships of the players, and in this new take on their real-life fairytale, for fans of other clubs, and non-football fans to get behind. For United fans it’s a no-brainer – you have to see this film.

This feature-length directorial debut from Carlos Cuarón sees Gael García Bernal and Diego Luna re-conjoin like they do (see: Y Tu Mamá También and most other films one or the other is in) to create a dromedy (do people say that?) attempting to satirise contemporary Mexico.

I’m a little bit of a fan of Gael García Bernal and Diego Luna, so was always going to enjoy Rudo Y Cursi. Like at Christmas: I’ll eat any mince pie and enjoy the experience of eating the mince pie because I like mince pies, but I won’t necessarily feel like the mince pie was a particularly good mince pie. That’s not to say that it’s a bad mince pie either, it’s just I’ve had better mince pies.

The performances of the dual leads are typically game, but unfortunately, for me, the protagonists – typified by their nicknames Rudi (Rude) and Cursi (Corny) – are more caricatures than characters. And though this helps the film deliver its more slapstick moments, it’s a hindrance to the political message.

One of the most pleasing aspects of this film is that you actually see the actors playing football – they’re aren’t very good at it (but they’re not bad either), but it makes a refreshing change from the slick crop between leg shot and upper-body shot you get in 110 % of other football fillums. I’m almost tempted to say that it’s worth watching just for that because I think it is … oh wait, I just did!

It’s got Eric in it, which – as happened at United – almost makes everything else that follows an anti-climax, and though having Eric in it is enough (for me and I guess most other United fans), having Eric Cantona the actor playing the part of Eric sadly (for me at least) isn’t.

I should have known that Ken Loach wouldn’t really deliver the ‘feel-good’ film that the preview clips suggested, and the darker moments of Looking For Eric that super-impose themselves over the rest – giving it that familiar Loachian fog – left me feeling the same as I do whenever I watch a Ken Loach film, uncomfortable. The sign of a great director, right?! Right. But, I think, he does it much better elsewhere.

The premise of the film that Eric (played well by Steve Evets) – who’s by know means having the best of it – finds a weed-induced spirit-guide-slash-confidante-slash-therapist in Eric Cantona could have worked. But, what’s problematic, for me, is how the main narrative running alongside overlaps and jars awkwardly with these quasi-surreal interpositions. If that was intentional, well done.

Ken Loach knows how to make films and he’s made one. It’s very worth it for Eric, if you love him (like me), and also for the ‘army of Erics’ as the film reaches its far-fetched finale.

A squillion synchronised cameras all trained on Zinedine Zidane – what’s not to like?!

The directors, Douglas Gordon and Philippe Parreno, I think, are attempting to address the awkward question of Football as Art? And they certainly put Football in its best clothes. But suitably lo-fi soundtracks (provided by purveyors of the craft Mogwai) and quasi-gonzo camera work do not art make. Just ‘cus it looks and feels like art, you shouldn’t always be fooled. The production may be new to the football, but it’s an old trick art has been playing for a while. Having said that it’s also hard to argue that this isn’t a successfully realised piece of cinema.

I believe an artist (who creates art) is someone who brings something in to the world that wasn’t there before. Then, Zidane is artist. In beautifully crafting a new perspective from which to view something that we’re so familiar with, there is definitely an argument to cast the film-makers as artist too. (There’s a football as art thing, in relation to this film, I wrote here)

The wild (almost other-worldly) look in Zidane’s eyes (captured in extreme close-up) could curdle milk, so be mindful not to watch with a cup of tea. It is eerily compelling and curiously emotive.

It beats Sky Player-Cam hands down.

p.s Look out for cameos from Real Madrid Beckham and Real Madrid Owen (Lol).

Y’see what Eric Cardot, Lehericey Delphine and Yves Hinant have done here is direct an incredibly understated and articulate documentary that has changed my perception of refereeing for good (not to say I was mean about them anyway). Not bad, hey?

From the ‘celebrity’ lifsetyle enjoyed by some, to the euphoria of a good reffing, and the process behind the scenes of a major tournament, this makes for a really brilliant watch. I can’t speak highly enough of this film; I think all football fans should be made to watch it before they sign up.

Howard Webb fans get an eyeful of the poster boy, and it’s the focus on him and his team within the documentary that most effectively illustrates the reality of it all.

I don’t like to talk about specifics in these so called reviews, for the sake of avoiding spoilers, but this is my favourite clip from the film and if it doesn’t make you want to watch then you’re doing it wrong (or at least very different to me)…

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More racist stereotypes than you can fit into a Jim Davison comedy sketch. More ham  than you can fit into a really big and expertly vacuum packed bag of ham. More terribleness than you’ll find in a terrible convention held in Terrible town by Terry Terrible of Terribleton.

Notable for being: the film, and performance from Sly Stallone, that inspired a generation of American goalkeepers; coming over here and taking etc..

So really bad, it’s really good (but in a really bad way).