The Golden Spurtle review: a strirringly special film

‘At least it’s no’ raining,’ is an ancient Scottish curse that functions somewhat like the theatrical superstition around not naming Shakespeare’s play about the murderous Thane of Cawdor.

Speak it out loud and, sure enough, a thunderous downpour will come.

Which is why, as a son of Glasgow, I snort-chortled hard when a foolishly brave resident of Carrbridge, the snowcapped mountain-ringed Highlands village some 40 minutes’ drive south of Macbeth’s ancestral seat, challenged the wrath of the elements in gleaming Melbourne International Film Festival documentary highlight, The Golden Spurtle.

The early October rays were golden on the eve of the annual Carrbridge-held World Porridge Making Championship of the same name, when Australian writer/director Constantine Costi interviewed this gent who suggests their oft-sunny weather’s better than the West Coast.

But sure enough, when ‘Porridge Day’ arrives the next morn, a lashing deluge threatens to wash away the village’s ancient bridge. The parade is cancelled. Spectators huddle, drenched, in the town hall where the contest will be fought by locals, international guests, and even English interlopers, lovingly welcomed.

Cannily edited by James Alcock, this beat’s one of many gloriously deadpan moments designed to crack up audiences in an abundantly jolly film that is absolutely laughing with, rather than at, the cutely kooky villagers and visitors.

Golden Spurtle: monarch of the glen

One of those visitors is taco chef Toby Wilson, a low-key Sydneysider who was tickled pink to read about the competition and fancied his chances. So much so that we join him in 2023 on his second attempt to claim the trophy.

If you think it’s amusing he’s come halfway round the world to take part, then so too has writer/director Costi. He usually helms operas on stage, rather than documentaries on film, but is a dab hand at both, grasping the human heart of this uplifting story.

Hung on the competition’s Chieftain, Charlie Miller, he will retire from the honorary position when all’s said and done. Cinematographer Dimitri Zaunders, making full use of the film’s quaint, picture-postcard ratio, presents Charlie as a romantic figure. There are copious shots of our kilted hero staring out across the sunbeam-drenched glen or shrouded in steam train smoke, invoking a Turner painting.

While Charlie may be second-guessing his choice to step down, all misty-eyed, a part of him will always remain, having hand-lathed the championship’s gold-plated wooden trophy, the spurtle in question.

Golden Spurtle: ehm, what’s a spurtle?

What’s a spurtle, you might ask? Not quite a wooden spoon, it’s a short and stubby rod used in Scotland for stirring porridge, stews, broths and the like to achieve the perfect consistency. And The Golden Spurtle is consistently beautiful.

Like everyone in this breath of heather-fresh air film, Charlie is a character. While he may appear slightly gruff on the surface, he’s possessed of a giant heart, has a sincere belief in the competition and its import to the community, plus a knack for daft humour delivered so dry it makes up for all that rain.

Overseeing preparations for the competition and its smooth running on the big day, he’s assisted by steady hands like Barbara, the dishwasher who has been battling cantankerously crusty remnants for 25 years, or Jane, the self-appointed raffle queen who says she’ll be buried with her paper crown. The whole shebang is the epitome of all for one and one for all.

Golden Spurtle: rocket science

Toby, whose Australian sense of humour knits neatly into the Scottish outlook, finds himself going toe-to-toe with the likes of Ian Bishop, a handsomely furrowed-brow local who recalls a latter-years Sean Connery and a past winner who’s back for more. When asked by Costi what oats he’ll be using on the day, Ian’s fox-like stare says it all: ‘Why would I tell you? Other people would get to know.’

But even Ian is on the joke, later worrying, mid-competition, that, ‘I used to be in the martial arts, like, big time, and I’m standing here thinking “porridge”,’ issued with a wheeze laugh that speaks to chaotic good energy.

His fellow porridge combatants hail from as far afield as Zimbabwe, the Netherlands, Canada and more. From down south, there’s the big smiles and dapper moustache of Pakistani-British Adam Kiani, who read about Toby competing and was inspired to give it a go.

Fitness instructor Tracy Griffen even feeds her pup, Coco, doggie porridge, while reigning champion Lisa Williams, a mobility scooter user who can’t fly north from Felixstowe for health reasons, takes no fewer than four train journeys to defend her title. That’s dedication.

Then there’s the intense and intensely competitive Nick Barnard, a Londoner who founded health food company Rude Health. He takes everything far too seriously, while managing to be endearingly goofy about it. ‘It would be wrong of me to say that I’m not burning with desire to win the Golden Spurtle, ten years in, and having been in the final six or seven times now.’ Who’s counting?

Certainly not the nuclear physicist, briefly featured, who freely acknowledges that getting porridge right is much harder than his day job.

No matter, everyone’s a winner when it comes to Costi’s big bear hug of a doco. The Golden Spurtle is no reality TV show where everyone’s a traitor, looking to stick in the knife in and out, damned spot.

It’s refreshingly wholesome, like porridge itself. Even when potty-mouthed Carrbridge artist Alison deploys a perfectly Scottish ‘shiiiiiiiiite’, then later reveals you must stir porridge clockwise or unleash a force far too funny to spoil here, easily the film’s funniest mic drop amongst many.

Stirring stuff, indeed.

The Golden Spurtle is showing as part of MIFF 2025 before going on general release later in 2025.

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