Given to roaming around the Broads on a clunky moped when he's not eyeballs deep in his daily drudgery, Goob's salvation comes in the form of a pretty migrant worker (Marama Corlett) whom Womack employs as a vegetable picker on his extended property. With his gangly frame and piercing blue eyes, Walpole commands the screen, despite his obvious lack of acting experience. He's ably supported by the more seasoned cast, particularly Harris, who offers a masterclass in skin-crawling creepiness. It's reassuring to see the actor can still dial it down and offer that level of naturalism in between the bigger and broader Hollywood stuff. But for all the kitchen sink magic hour lyricism on display, The Goob sometimes struggles to shake off the nagging feeling that what you're watching is essentially a short film which has been padded out to feature length. The secondary characters outside of Goob's dysfunctional family set-up feel painfully unexplored. Spearritt certainly looks and acts the part but isn't given much to do, and a subplot involving her estranged boyfriend (Paul Popplewell) is listless and uninvolving. Those issues aside, there's still much to admire about The Goob. Myhill's strong sense of mood and locale mark him out as a filmmaker to watch and offers a hint that we may have our own Ramin Bahrani equivalent further down the line.
Adam Lowes | @adlow76