The quality of films at the Festival dipped for me somewhat today; combined with overcast skies and oppressive warmth in Edinburgh part of me wished I was at home in a bath of ice water. Things started fairly strong, with an interesting movie from Iceland called Jitters. Its unfortunate tagline is Life is happening right here, right now. Thanks for that. I honestly couldnt remember what the film was about when it started, having ticked it off as one to see weeks ago. Based on the title, I thought it might be a horror movie. About halfway through I remembered that it has been widely described as the Icelandic Skins. For me this isnt a compliment. The movie is nowhere near as bad as that TV series is, but the description does underline part of the problem with the film: after a certain point, it feels like a soap opera. It is about a group of kids dealing with sex, relationships and difficult parents. The central character, 16-year-old Gabriel, is gay, which he still keeps secret. On a trip to England he is taken under Markuss wing, a bit of a cocky troublemaker. The opening scene, of their visit to Manchester and eventual kiss, is the highpoint of the film. Its a great kiss; I was reminded of the one between Daniel Day-Lewis and Gordon Warnecke in My Beautiful Laundrette. When things return to Iceland, Gabriels friends are introduced and the movies structure weakens. Their parents are all excellent illustrations of Philip Larkins most famous poem. The acting is pretty good, particularly from the lead (Atli Oskar Fjalarsson). But the movie isnt as edgy as it thinks it is; its territory has been covered many times before. It pussyfoots around the subject of male bisexuality and has a cynical view of the older generation. Nevertheless it is well made, with good performances and a few quite touching moments. Dustin Ingram looks so like Napoleon Dynamite in Meet Monica Velour as to make little difference. He plays a 17-year-old, Tobe, who lives with his granddad (Brian Dennehy) and obsesses over the golden age of porn, and in particular a starlet from the time who seems to have vanished. Her name is Monica Velour, she is played by Kim Cattrall, and she was in such made-up classics as Long Days Journey Into Kate. An opportunity for him to go meet his goddess, reduced to a novelty act in a strip joint, arises and he sets out in a hotdog van (long story... actually, short but uninteresting story). Cattrall is pretty good in the role, though I found her a little hard to buy as a 30-years-down-the-line porno queen; Cattrall may be in her 50s, but she still looks basically like a movie star. My main problem with the movie though is that I just didnt care about the central character. I didnt dislike him, particularly. He isnt nearly as obnoxious as he could have been, but hes not especially sympathetic either. He gets nuggets of pseudo-wisdom from Velour, and, playing an artist, Keith David. By the end of the movie he has Grown As A Person. The porno titles are quite funny, but then, porno titles are easy laughs. I have a bit of a soft-spot (is that the wrong term?) for some of those 70s porn flicks, the ones that actually aspired towards being proper movies. Most are unwatchable but theres one called Alice In Wonderland: An X-Rated Musical Fantasy that is so much more enjoyable than Tim Burtons recent attempt (favourite song: Whats A Nice Girl Like You Doing On A Knight Like This?). This was before VHS made pornography a largely private viewing experience. The movie is not funny enough, and is lazily plotted. Cattrall almost makes it worth watching, but not quite. If youre still ambivalent let me tell you this: Brian Dennehy gets his arse out. I cannot un-see that image, and I will have to live with the pain. Ask yourself, is it worth it? The audience at Monica Velour seemed fairly split; there was a passable amount of laughter, but there were also a couple of walkouts. I talked to a friend about the movie afterwards, and we discussed walking out of movies. In my entire time going to the Film Festival, I have never done it (although I have fallen asleep). However, particularly when a press or industry pass offers free screenings, it is not uncommon, especially if other, potentially better, movies are on at the same time. Afterwards I returned to Screen 1 of the Filmhouse for Bob Marley: The Making of a Legend. As I wrote before, the documentaries at the Edinburgh Festival are very reliable, and though I am not an expert, I am enough of a Bob Marley fan, I figured, to enjoy it anyway. There were, perhaps, 80 people also in to see it, since nothing else was playing at the same time. And there were thirty-four walkouts. 34. Thats a new-record for screenings Ive been to. The fact that I counted ought to tell you something too; the excitement of wondering who would leave next was the only reason I myself stayed. Its a dreadful documentary, not doing justice to its subject or his music. It is put together by Jamaican filmmaker Esther Anderson, from footage of Marley before he was famous that has been lost for more than 30 years. Most of it, sadly, should have stayed lost. There are long, unedited passages of Marley and friends home videos which offer little insight into anything. One scene, describing the writing of I Shot the Sheriff is almost interesting, but there is little music; one early recording has inaudible vocals. The documentary is devoid of form; it hasnt been shaped into anything. Those who know little of the man or his music will find it perplexing and dull, and fans will be disappointed. Still to come this week is the Kings of Leons documentary Talihina Sky. All four members of Kings of Leon do not add up to one Bob Marley, but if that documentary is worse than The Making of A Legend, Ill eat my Rastafarian hat. Adam Whyte, our man in the Highlands is attending the Edinburgh Film Festival. Check out all his reviews HERE.