Summary

A warm, whimsical gem, Constantine Costi turns a quirky culinary contest into a heartfelt celebration of community, eccentricity, and oats.

Growing up in Australia, there was an Uncle Toby’s instant oats ad where a young Scottish lad emphatically told us: “That’s no how you make porridge.” Turns out he was right all along, and the World Porridge Making Championships in the Scottish village of Carrbridge have been certifying that fact for over three decades.

Australian director Constantine Costi, a theatre librettist and director known for Siegfried and Roy: The Unauthorised Opera, became fascinated with the contest after stumbling across its story while travelling. Following Toby Wilson, an Australian taco chef and two-time Carrbridge finalist, Costi introduces us to a delightful ensemble of regulars, locals, and newcomers, each one adding texture to this surprisingly heartfelt culinary showdown.

The townsfolk and competitors often feel like they’ve stepped out of a Christopher Guest mockumentary. With stagey to-camera intros and locked-off shots of Carrbridge, Costi and cinematographer Dimitri Zaunders shoot with all the whimsy of a Wes Anderson film. Yet he never loses sight of the fact that these are real people with real ambitions, and more than a little emotion invested in the battle for the titular Golden Spurtle.

Take honorary Golden Spurtle Chieftain Charlie Miller, who fled the rat race for a quieter life in Carrbridge. His health may be faltering and he’s no longer young, but his love for the town and its weird little tradition is undiminished. There’s reigning champ Lisa Williams, and the legendary Ian Bishop, described as “mad” and doing little to dissuade us from the label. Health store owner Nick Barnard might be the most Guest-like of all: a repeated finalist, baffled that his oats still haven’t reached the top of the podium.

Costi’s steady hand is a perfect counterbalance to the barely contained chaos of the competition itself. As the day arrives and a torrential Scottish downpour sets in, the only constants are the revered dishwashers backstage and Miller, scrambling to hold it all together. Yet, like Costi’s film, it somehow works: beautifully, eccentrically, and against all odds.

THE GOLDEN SPURTLE may join the ranks of offbeat documentaries like Scott Gawlik’s Set! or Slavko Martinov’s Pecking Order, but it stands apart thanks to Costi’s warm and generous approach to the material. Here’s hoping Carrbridge’s Golden Spurtle runs another 30 years, and that someone’s there to capture it when it does.