Blur: No Distance Left to Run

Laying our cards on the table, this review only applies if you're a Blur fan - but then, everyone's a Blur fan nowadays, aren't they? Dylan Southern and Will Lovelace's documentary captures the unexpected sense of euphoria among public and pundits alike at their return last year, most notably showing guitarist Graham Coxon's baffled face upon reading a broadsheet journalist's wistful claim that they "broke America". There have been many Stalinist rewritings of pop history from people keen to claim they even loved 'Modern Life is Rubbish' all along, but this film is happy to flag up the inconsistencies.

Indeed, it's in showing quaint nuggets of contemporaneous footage that the film is often at its most appealing - whether it's Mark Lawson discussing '13', Alex James causing mischief while recording links for a Japanese music channel, or simply the realisation that people used to pay £3.99 for singles. It's only a shame that there aren't more of these "found" clips - though this would leave less room for the sumptuous live footage that lends the film its style, and the talking heads pieces from the band members that provide its heart.

A deliberate stylistic choice is taken not to simply narrate the story - or even piece it together by including interviews with anyone else. This makes sense; everything up to 1999 has already been told in print in as much detail as you could desire, while there's really not much to tell when it comes to the last decade (band drifts apart for vague nebulous reasons, band drifts back together one day for similarly vague nebulous reasons). Where No Distance excels is in assuming a basic level of audience knowledge, and instead focusing on what was running through each of the band member's heads at the time. It makes for a surprisingly - and engagingly - introspective work, and if certain aspects are skimmed over, there's fresh insight to be had.

Though simple in format, there's room for flair - a drawn-out shot of Damon Albarn holding out a megaphone in serene stillness while Graham frantically hammers away at the guitar out of focus in the background is a particular highlight of the generally spectacular concert scenes. A flaw in the construction is that sequences following the reunion tour (and its warm-ups) are samey when set against the progressing story of the band's career. But as the narrative culminates in the spectacular Glastonbury and Hyde Park performances, you feel the sense of celebration - of both the comeback and the career as a whole - is deserved, and Southern and Lovelace do it justice.