Eight more short documentaries about London

That people told me to watch

Hello and welcome to Wooden City, a newsletter about London.

Today’s newsletter is a special free issue about London documentaries, most of them recommended to me by Wooden City readers and people who follow my Instagram.

I publish pieces without a paywall occasionally, and you can read others here, here and here.

If you’re around on Tuesday 10 June, I’m moderating a panel about Tamil food at Walworth Town Hall. More details here.

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Every now and then I walk into my sitting room with a plate in my hands, sit down on the sofa, rest my dinner on my lap, and scroll fruitlessly through streaming services as I eat with one hand. This doesn’t happen often, but I hate myself when it does.

I don’t trust the streamers’ algorithms, nor am I satisfied by what they tell me to watch. They are simply in front of me when I need them most, and this convenience destroys the part of my brain that knows there are better options. I submit to them during my weaker moments, like the TV equivalent of going to Pret.

When I have more presence of mind, I refer to the reviews and the recommendations of others, and they always give me more joy. So I was thrilled when people who follow my work sent me 18 London documentaries they thought I’d like, after I wrote about nine I’d come across myself.

A few weeks back I started watching these recommendations. Seven of them are included below, alongside one from my own watchlist. As before, most of these films are short and all but one are free to stream. They deal with a wide range of topics, such as work, young people, high-rise living, animal captivity and the impulse to create. Each documentary says something important about the city in which these things occur.

I’ve made this list free to read because it felt weird to paywall a bunch of things that were given to me so generously. And since there were so many recommendations, I’ve reserved the rest for more follow-up pieces. So for now I’d like to say another thank you to Ant Adean, Daniel Freeley, Faith Dallas, Henry Bettley, Marco Pereira, Oniz Suleyman and Thea Everett, whose recommendations appear below.

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Lift: Snapshots of Life In An East End London Tower Block (2001)

“So you’re in the lift, again,” a resident says, upon encountering a stranger with a camera inside the tight communal space that she uses to get home. I wouldn’t be thrilled to share a lift with director Marc Isaacs either, especially just after work. But this short film has stayed with me more than any other on this list.

Each time the doors open, the stage curtains lift, as someone steps in and another interaction takes place. Some residents are irritated, or simply don’t care, but most are surprisingly happy to answer this filmmaker’s personal, often invasive questions. Many even seem to enjoy Isaacs’ company, revealing something about themselves during their journeys up and down. He’s offered food on multiple occasions, such as a banana and a filled betel leaf. One pious woman affixes a picture of the Virgin Mary to the lift wall, so that her temporary neighbour can learn the rosary.

We get to know a few of these recurring characters. One man always seems to be going on nights out drinking alone; while he has a jolly demeanour and a twinkle in his eye, I find it hard not to feel for him. For all its intrusiveness, this documentary gives its subjects centre stage and reflects this city’s diversity without making any grand statements about it. It was filmed 14 years before I moved here, but I recognise the London it depicts.

Running time: 24 minutes

Where to watch: YouTube

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The King of SE15 (2021)

The King of SE15 is a heartwarming story about a Nunhead-based Elvis impersonator called Aaron Arter. Arter performs for anyone who’ll listen, including passers-by below his bedroom window and people getting off the train. When the pandemic scuppers his pub performances, he uses the opportunity to cheer up his locked-down neighbours and raise money for charity. Funnily enough, the man who becomes his manager, a local eccentric called Michael Peacock, is someone I’ve written about before. He champions his client and even has a go at the killjoys who don’t appreciate his work. I love how small and self-contained Nunhead is, and The King of SE15 really captures its villagey feel.

Running time: 20 minutes

Where to watch: YouTube

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Beigels Already (1992)

When I started Debbie Shuter’s Beigels Already, my first thought was that Beigel Bake on Brick Lane looked the same 33 years ago as it does now. But there are some glaring differences: this 24-hour bagel shop attracted fewer tourists, nobody had mobile phones and it had two signs, one of which was red. The shop has clearly always been busy, but Brick Lane has changed so much since the early ‘90s that it's disorienting to see it back then, populated by more cabbies and homeless people than food tourists. Many customers call their purchases “bygals” and the East End’s Jewishness still appears fresh in their minds.

Running time: 9 minutes

Where to watch: Vimeo

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The Ark: Survival of the Fittest (1993)

This documentary by Molly Dineen, whose work I wrote about last time, shows that cost-cutting makes things worse. The first in a series of four films, it tells the story of London Zoo’s narrow escape from closure during the John Major years, when its state funding ran out and it made 26 keepers and 1300 animals redundant.

The human cast of this brilliant workplace story all have very evocative job titles, such as “headkeeper of hoofstock”. We get to know them as they prepare to re-interview for jobs they’ve held for decades. At times, it's hard to watch, especially as Dineen has a habit of asking questions in disarming spaces like kitchens and changing rooms. One poignant scene involves a man skinning a mouse (the pygmy falcons prefer them without fur) as he wonders whether he’ll get sacked, while the hymn “Lord of All Hopefulness” plays on the radio behind him.

I’ve watched several films about dysfunctional institutions now. What I’ve noticed is that their main characters tend to be the ones who are the most stubborn and dour. While these dinosaurs may seem miserable, they strike me as good at their jobs, just in a way that becomes increasingly anachronistic as time passes. I wonder how many more of them were swept away during the period that followed.

Running time: 58 minutes

Where to watch: BFI Player

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A City Crowned with Green (1964)

A City Crowned with Green is narrated by Reyner Banham, who wrote the seminal book, Los Angeles: The Architecture of Four Ecologies. I loved that book and Banham delivers this documentary in a similarly essay-like, yet conversational style. He avoids long words and has a keen eye for what constitutes a city.

This documentary also sheds light on things I knew to be true, but hadn’t thought to express. One is how obvious it is that Hampstead used to be outside of London, until one day the bulging city swallowed it up. Another is that the area around Hendon Central feels a bit tacked on, which I learned is because development used to expand from “the nucleus provided by an existing village… around a place with social and human attributes.” That changed when developers began building next to new stations and roundabouts.

Running time: 30 minutes

Where to watch: BBC iPlayer

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We Are The Lambeth Boys (1959)

Karel Reisz’s We Are The Lambeth Boys is about young people living in a Kennington estate during the 1950s. Almost everyone in the documentary smokes cigarettes and dresses very smartly. Watching it made me think teens aren’t all that different today: they just vape and wear baggy clothes instead. They still go to school, mess around, hang out in places that sell chips and do menial, low-paid Saturday jobs. The film centres around Alford House Youth Club, which I was happy to find still exists. But I couldn’t help but imagine it’s harder to be young in London today, now that so many other clubs like it have closed.

Running time: 49 minutes

Where to watch: BFI Player

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Andy The Furniture Maker (1986)

I didn’t live through the 1980s, but I can just about squint at that decade because its leftovers were still around when I was growing up. Maybe that’s why I liked this documentary by Paul Oremland, which has many scenes that reveal what London life was like 40 years ago. Andy Marshall, the subject of the film, was a likeable misfit who expressed himself by making beautiful, aberrant chairs from salvaged timber. As friends such Derek Jarman attest, Marshall had a natural gift for proportion and a singular ability to make the right piece for the right person.

Running time: 34 minutes

Where to watch: YouTube

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The Man who Fought the Town Planners (2014)

This newsletter wouldn’t exist without Nairn’s London, but aside from that essential guidebook, I’ve still barely scratched the surface of Ian Nairn’s work. Watching Kate Misrahi’s The Man who Fought the Town Planners made me feel like I understood the man behind the writing better, and what made him so outraged.

I’d seen pictures of Nairn before watching this, but never any videos. I didn’t expect him to remind me so much of Peep Show’s Mark Corrigan, from his voice to his mannerisms; even his floppy hair. Turns out others have made the same observation. I also didn’t expect the footage to be so sad: Nairn was angry, but this documentary reinforced my impression of him as a sensitive, unusually observant man.

These two personalities come together at the end of the film, when he bemoans the loss of Bolton’s half-demolished St Saviour's Church, shouting from its pulpit like a vicar without a congregation. “Buildings were like people to him,” one of Nairn’s old colleagues says. “He felt things almost ridiculously.”

Running time: 59 minutes

Where to watch: YouTube

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Thanks for reading!

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Regular paywalled programming resumes w/c 9 June, with a piece about eating out for £6.75 or less.

Wooden City is written by Isaac Rangaswami, with editing from James Hansen.