In an early sequence in The Filmmaker’s House, director Marc Isaacs
chats to his producer on Skype about his dubious funding prospects. Told that backers prefer projects they can “pitch upward” such as documentaries on serial killers, Marc responds in a way you might expect from a director more interested in a more common form of lived experience, protesting that “they’re obsessed with darkness… (but) the ordinary life of human beings can be interesting as well.”
So it proves here. In an overlap of documentary convention and semi-scripted faux-realism that offers a playful, frivolous edge to proceedings, even if the aim of its hybrid make-up isn’t always obvious, we have a defiant rejoinder to narrative and crime-led docs, Isaacs’ instead using the idea of hospitality as a loose node to invite a cast of characters into his north-east London home.
How much of his assembled quartet are