The Truffle Hunters

The movie falls short of creating a singular argument, and the effect of its poetic visuals drifts off by the end. Still, it excels at diving into the essence of a business that's antithetical to modern-day supply and demand.

While I don't have a strong desire to sample the haute cuisine of white truffles, I do have an intense compulsion to wander around the countryside with Fiona, Titina, and Birba. Especially Birba.

You can imagine Bill Murray, Bob Balaban and co ageing up for a Wes Anderson version of this stupidly delightful dog-umentary about elderly truffle hunters roaming Italy's misty, picture-box Piedmont.

This is directed by Michael Dweck and Gregory Kershaw and, visually, it is magnificent, with every scene framed like a gorgeous painting.

Its gnarled, subterranean subject may be shrouded in a biblical halo, but The Truffle Hunters sublime focus on the natural world and both its flora and fauna inhabitants offers calming reassurance for the unwashed.

Here is a documentary that is simple but contains multitudes.

With its handsome scenery, loveable codgers and cute dogs it’s a movie that wears its calculations fairly openly, but they still work.

The imagery feels meticulously staged yet authentic to the lives of the people who inhabit them, and what's on display is a textured and vibrant aesthetic.

A portrait of humble beauty, as well as how almost anything can be destroyed by money.

Michael Dweck and Gregory Kershaw's documentary provides perhaps the most delightful movie-viewing experience of the year.