Nestled in the Scottish highlands somewhere south of Inverness and north of Glasgow is the village of Carrbridge. It is a community of some 700 Scots including Charlie Miller: the honorary chieftain of the World Porridge-Making Championship, serving his final year as head of the annual contest.

A friend of mine once remarked that the weirder the subject matter of a museum, the more likely it would be that the museum was worth visiting. The argument goes that if the museum is dedicated to something really specific – possibly even bespoke – then it can only have continued to draw a crowd because it was genuinely entertaining. I think the same is true of documentaries. Generally speaking they can take a very long time to develop, produce, edit together, and sell – and there is hardly any money to be earned from them, so unless they are about sharks or Nazis they are fiendishly difficult to show a profit. See a documentary, particularly one screening at a festival, and you are as good as guaranteed to be watching a labour of love.

It is obvious from the outset that The Golden Spurtle, from Australian writer-director Constantine Costi, is one such labour. Like many great documentaries, the subject matter is an excuse: what it really represents is a profile of community, culture, and human behaviour. It is a warm, enormously charming excuse to spend about 75 minutes with some funny, wonderful, and occasionally eccentric people.

The contest involves proper Scottish porridge as well: there is no milk or sugar or fancy condiments to be found in this showdown – just water, oats, and salt. The entire film is infused with such an intensely expressed Scottishness that it feels akin to taking a trip to the Highlands themselves. I am Australian born to Scottish immigrants, and I grew up in that migrant community as well as visiting the ‘old country’ a few times, and more than once a sharp flash of recognition struck deeply. It is not just in the accents, but in the cadence. It soaks through via the attitudes, the humour, and the appalling weather. Even the locals’ insistence that the torrential rain on the day of the contest is uncharacteristic, and it is usually much brighter, is such a Scottish thing to say that it’s practically a cliché. (Nervous non-Scot viewers mustn’t fear: much of the dialogue is subtitled.)

What pushes The Golden Spurtle from an entertaining film to a masterful one is the exceptional way that it has been produced. The photography, by Dimitri Zaunders, follows a tight sense of geometry like a Wes Anderson feature. It gives everything a very stylised, slightly mannered effect, but because the documentary’s subjects are cheerfully self-aware it never feels artificial or condescending. Simon Bruckard’s musical score is similarly pitch-perfect, reflecting the small town vibe and the Caledonian culture without ever feeling stereotypical or trite.

This is a wonderful, utterly joyful crowd-pleaser. It is also film that sneaks up on one’s emotions: first you are simply enjoying the amusing circumstances and situation, but by the end do not be surprised to find yourself rather touched as well. If you are wondering what on Earth a spurtle is, the answer can be found in this beautifully composed and produced film.

The Golden Spurtle is screening at the 2025 Melbourne International Film Festival. Click here for more information.