This Australian documentary about the world porridge championships, held each year in a Scottish village, is as wholesome and nourishing as its oat-stirring subjects
T
he word “porridge” to me evokes something modest and satisfying: mouthfuls of reliable pleasantness in a terribly volatile world. How lovely that The Golden Spurtle – Constantine Costi’s charming documentary about the world’s annual porridge-making championship in the Scottish village of Carrbridge – has assumed some of the qualities of the dish. It isn’t flashy (and certainly doesn’t scream “must-watch”) but, like a good ol’ fashioned bowl of well-cooked oats, it’s got it where it counts.
This film is a pleasure to watch – with endearing salt-of-the-earth subjects, a lovely ebb and flow, and a tone that feels just right: neither overly serious nor tongue in cheek. Its appeal is not dissimilar to the Australian comedy series Rosehaven: sometimes it’s just nice to escape into a fresh air-filled world with refreshingly low stakes. Even if the competitors, gawd luv ’em, treat the competition very seriously.
The Golden Spurtle is also lovely to look at. It’s displayed in a tucked-in 4:3 aspect ratio that has a slightly antiquated feel, which suits the material. The opening shot features a grassy field overlaid with text declaring that every year Carrbridge hosts the titular tournament, though the upcoming event is a little different: it’s the last to be led by its head organiser, Charlie Miller, who is hanging up his stirring spoon after many years of service. This contextualises what comes next as an end-of-empire narrative, belonging to a pantheon of stories about dynasties that changed the course of history and rattled the tectonic, erm, oatmeal bowls of existence.
