Mancunian Man (2023)

The other day I finally got around to watching Mancunian Man, the documentary about the late great Cliff Twemlow that's available on Tubi.  Twemlow, in case you didn't know, was, during the eighties and nineties, Manchester's own low budget movie mogul, producing and starring in a string of action-orientate movies intended for home video, all made on a shoestring.  Bearing in mind Twemlow and co's complete lack of resources, the quality of the films are quite remarkable.  Sure, they were never going to win awards and are decidedly rough around the edges, but they are as good as most of the US direct-to-video fodder of their era and definitely several steps above the sort of no-budget direct-to-streaming dross I see today (much of it, I'm sorry to say, made in the UK).  On occasion, Twemlow was even able to bring in 'name' actors - Fiona Fullerton in Ibiza Connection and Oliver Tobias and Charles Grey in Starfire).  Many of the films were shot, guerilla style, on the streets of Manchester, without permission from the relevant authorities.  As with many films, even mainstream ones, the biggest problem that Twemlow had was in actually getting distribution deals for his movies.  Despite the first, GBH, being something of a hit when released on video (particularly popular in Manchester, not surprisingly), some of his subsequent, far more polished productions, went virtually unseen for many years.  The problem, as various of his former associates noted in the documentary, was that Twemlow, whilst a dynamic creative force, was no businessman.  The hard truth about low budget movie making is that, more often than not, the producer has to be prepared to sell the film to distributors, on a territory by territory basis, (as described in an interview I once read by fellow low budget filmmaker Lindsay Shonteff, talking about his later, independent, productions).

The documentary's greatest strength was its evocation of Twemlow as a dynamic creative force, drawing people into his orbit through a combination of infectious enthusiasm and charisma in order to drive forward his film projects against apparently insurmountable odds.  With an often chaotic creative process, it seems a miracle that Twemlow was able to complete even a single film, let alone a whole string of them.  A truly fascinating character, Cliff Twemlow would seem an unlikely figure to have spearheaded a low budget film making phenomena - a one time boxer, body builder and night club bouncer, he was also a successful composer who had made a lot of money from royalties after selling his compositions to music libraries and authored three paperbacks.   One of the few regrets in life that I have is that I've never met anyone like Twemlow - I would love to be caught up in the wild creative schemes of such a character and taken on an exhilarating and wild ride of chaotic creativity.  Ultimately, Cliff Twemlow's movie career burned brightly, but relatively briefly.  The documentary paints a very poignant picture of his final years, leading up to his untimely death, as his personal relationships broke down, his personal finaces floundered and he found it increasingly difficult to set up new film projects, eventually being forced to source finance from some very shady characters.  A renewed interest in body building led to his dabbling in steroids, which, ultimately, led to his death.  It was a sad end to a beguilingly eclectic yet hugely entertaining career.  The fact that he is nowhere nearly as well known as he should be is, in part at least, down to the fact that Twemlow frequently hid behind assumed names, both for his music and his film making.  The lack of availability of many of his films for many years has also contributed to this lack of recognition.  In truth, Twemlow's should be a revered name in the history of low-budget British exploitation film production.  Indeed, I'd say that if you are at all interested in such films then Mancunian Man should be essential viewing (as are any Cliff Twemlow films you can manage to access, obviously).