t-r-pengelly

Hjørdis is a small but perfectly formed gem - a spin-off that manages to stand proudly on its own. While Rita is all sharp edges and rebellious spirit, Hjørdis is gentler, warmer, and quietly funny, with a real heart for the underdog. Lise Baastrup shines in the lead role, giving Hjørdis a wonderful mix of awkwardness, idealism, and genuine kindness. What I especially enjoyed is how the series takes big themes - bullying, belonging, the messiness of school life - and wraps them in humour and humanity, never heavy-handed but always heartfelt. It's quirky, charming, and very Danish in its dry wit. By the end, you're rooting for Hjørdis not just as a teacher, but as a person trying, failing, and trying again. A delightful little series with far more substance than its modest size suggests.

Morris: A Life with Bells On is a wonderfully eccentric mockumentary - a deadpan gem that treats the world of Morris dancing with the kind of straight-faced seriousness Christopher Guest might bring to dog shows or amateur theatre. It's sharp, funny, and delightfully absurd, with a cast who play it just right: never cruel, always affectionate. I watched it in a marquee at a folk festival, surrounded by Morris dancers aplenty, and every time the dancers on screen jingled their bells, the audience around me burst into knowing laughter. That atmosphere made the film's gentle satire even more joyous. Beneath the humour there's genuine warmth for the tradition, and the result is quirky, clever, and utterly British - a cult comedy that deserves to be celebrated with bells ringing everywhere.

Station Eleven is unlike any other post-apocalyptic drama - lyrical, strange, and quietly profound. Instead of leaning on the usual clichés of survival and brutality, it lingers on art, memory, and the fragile threads that bind people together. The weaving of timelines is masterful, gradually revealing how lives intersect before and after the flu, and the result is both haunting and hopeful. Performances are superb - Mackenzie Davis carries the role of Kirsten with a raw, luminous intensity - and the visuals often feel closer to poetry than television. What I loved most is that it dares to suggest that even at the end of the world, theatre, storytelling, and human connection matter. It's moving, beautiful, and refreshingly different - the kind of show that stays with you long after the final curtain.