The Golden Spurtle is a documentary about porridge, but behind its loving shots of sumptuous oats and gruel-thin misfires is a meditation on ageing, community and the difficult necessity of letting go. Set during 2023’s annual World Porridge Making Championship in the parochial Scottish village of Carrbridge, it follows a cadre of lovable organisers and contestants competing to cook a liquid-and-oats-combo satisfying enough to win them the titular spurtle-shaped trophy. At the head of this eccentric bunch is Charlie Miller, a deeply patriotic and unassuming leader whose failing health is forcing him to retire from the contest he loves. 

Like The King Of Kong or Aliens: The Musical, watching small communities approach an inarguably trivial pastime with the utmost seriousness is warmly compelling, and director Constantine Costi does all he can to lean into the off-the-charts quirk factor. You half-expect he had a copy of Accidentally Wes Anderson open on his lap while he directed, with the kind of meticulously composed long shots and Russian-Doll framing that only someone who had studied the chocolate-box splendour of The Grand Budapest Hotel could conjure. 

What moves the aesthetic beyond Andersonian chintz is cinematographer Dimitri Zaunders’ enthusiastic embrace of Scotland’s intricate palette of brick-stone browns, bracken greens and rain-cloud greys. The gorgeousness on display propels an amiable but shallow work that’s as gently funny as an episode of Dad’s Army, as purposefully inconsequential as a Ronnie Corbett anecdote, and as quietly moving as watching an old, unwell man say farewell to his closest friends.

The Golden Spurtle, Filmhouse, 18 August, 6.30pm; Vue, 19 August, 4.30pm; in cinemas from 12 September.