“I’m not bloody interested in serial killers, Rachel; I’m interested in ordinary human beings,” sighs veteran documentary-maker Marc Isaacs on a Skype call to his producer, who tells him programmers are only interested in sensationalist themes nowadays. Isaacs sticks to his guns. As the title implies, this inventive but flawed effort barely leaves his London terrace home. What’s less obvious, at least initially, is whether it is documentary or fiction. The eventual answer is a bit of both. Having chronicled so many aspects of Britishness in his documentary career, Isaacs contrives a sort of microcosmic state of our multicultural nation here: a gentle clash of cultural attitudes and boundaries.
The dramatis personae are craftily assembled. There is a Slovakian homeless man, Mikel, whose request for a drink becomes an extended stay. Isaacs’ Colombian cleaner, Nery, who has recently lost her mother, happens to be in that day. As does his builder Keith, a textbook old, white, overweight Englishman with a passion for football and a dodgy heart. By “coincidence”, just as Nery is dealing with the cat bringing a pigeon into the house, Isaacs’ niqab-wearing Pakistani neighbour, Zara, pops round with a gift of food during Ramadan.
The conversations and interactions between these people are revealing and entertaining. Their contrasting attitudes towards home, hospitality and family are thought-provoking. But there is a “structured reality” feel to proceedings which leaves us doubting their authenticity. (No serial killers turn up, but there is a brush with mortality.) These people appear to be non-actors playing themselves, but not always convincingly. This is especially true of Zara, whose readiness to explain and criticise her own culture feels implausible. Isaacs himself is a playful, self-deprecating presence, but just as the story falls between stools of fact and fiction, so his own positions as generous host, privileged employer and dispassionate observer make for a certain awkwardness. It doesn’t quite come off, but it’s a laudable attempt.
• The Filmmaker’s House is released on 25 June in cinemas and on digital platforms.
