Mancunian Man: The Legendary Life of Cliff Twemlow (2023) Review

As a teenager, I enjoyed the pulpy thrills of a book called The Pike, a novel spin on those tales of exotic underwater predators, which pitched its freshwater menace against all and sundry in the relatively chilly environs of the Lake District. It was daft, unpretentious, sporadically gory and right up my street. Little did I know at the time that its author, Cliff Twemlow, was responsible for a notorious shot on video flick called G.B.H., which caused conniptions in the morally righteous just by sitting on a shelf in rental stores up and down the UK.

However, Twemlow was far more than monster fish and gangsters beating the tar out of each other across the Manchester area. He was looking to rival Hollywood by setting up his own centre of film production in… Eccles? Jake West’s documentary follows Cliff’s beginnings as a songwriter and performer (and extra in Coronation Street) through his various celluloid adventures and his inevitably tragic death, all told by the people who knew – and most of the time, loved – this truly larger than life character.

The piece begins with the Twemlow quote “It is far better to be a resident on the brink of hell than spend a lifetime in a relentless pursuit of a mythical heaven” and this sums up our subject in any number of ways. This is a man who liked to fly by the seat of his pants and could be a much deeper thinker than his films would suggest. His experiences as a doorman at Manchester’s Millionaire Club were the basis for his superbly titled book The Tuxedo Warrior and informed some of G.B.H.’s plot.

However, that VHS rental shops staple wasn’t the beginning and end of Twemlow’s filmography. How about Target Eve Island? Ibiza Connection? Mason’s War? The Blindside Of God? Tokyo Sunrise? Moon Stalker? The Eye Of Satan? Firestar? G.B.H. 2: Lethal Impact? Bad Weekend? Hogan’s Champion? If you’re looking at that list and wondering how you’ve never seen them, don’t panic. They’re all still in various stages of completion and this doc covers them all, with plenty of choice clips and anecdotes, occasionally from “name” actors who spent a few days attached to the odd production (hello, Oliver Tobias!).

It isn’t as if these examples of guerilla filmmaking were bereft of talent. For instance, the Director Of Photography on Moon Stalker, David Tattersall, went on to lens such Hollywood fare as Con Air and The Green Mile. Mancunian Man makes a point of showing that, for all of the rough edges and lack of experience, there’s a hearty amount of creativity on display, with Cliff’s mate always ready to muck in and take on whatever role was necessary to get things done.

The section on Target Eve Island (dubbed The Never Ending Movie) is particularly eye-opening, from the frittering away of the movie’s budget to the point where the cast and crew were existing on stolen food to their arrest by military forces in Grenada and the subsequent liberation of the island by American troops, which would obviously provide huge production value if an enterprising crew was ready to capture shots of soldiers and helicopter gunships. Somehow, this all feels just slightly odder than normal in terms of the making of a Cliff Twemlow joint, considering his team also filmed high speed, destructive car chases and discharged firearms in the suburbs of Manchester without so much as a permit.

So, could things have panned out differently had the movie version of The Pike gone ahead as planned, with a two million budget and Joan Collins among the cast? We’ll never know, but there’s regret and heartbreak from all concerned when the disastrous promotional event is recalled, complete with footage from BBC science programme Tomorrow’s World, there to report upon the animatronic model of the pike. It’s another example of the obscure clips gathered together to add extra spice to the story.

There’s a clear sense of affection for such a maverick, although West doesn’t avoid the fact that Cliff had an eye for the ladies – he was wed three times and there’s more than a hint that there were many extra-marital dalliances – but the women on camera here are/were very taken by Cliff’s fun, caring nature and roguish side.
He was certainly living the dream when developing and making movies, but what happens when the finances dry up and that dream can no longer be lived? The final movement of Mancunian Man is the eventual, brutal comedown after the extended party, as Cliff attempts to recreate former glories while trying to keep his head above water. His utterly committed pursuit of success, unsurprisingly, costs him dearly. That’s hardly a spoiler.

If you’ve previously seen Jake West’s Video Nasties projects, Mancunian Man shows the same eye for fascinating facts. Although the chunky runtime of just over two hours may seem a tad overlong (particularly when the piece hits the repetitive cycle of develop movie idea/shoot movie/never release movie) there’s also a feeling of not wanting the audience to miss out on a number of fabulous scenes from titles you may never get to see.

For those of us who already knew something of Cliff Twemlow, this expands upon the legend and introduces us to his very own supporting cast, all engaging and frequently funny, as well as providing a queasily nostalgia pang for those Section 3 DPP days. For folks who’ve never heard of the kid who was known as “Scrapper” at age twelve, this is a wonderful peek behind the curtain of DIY film making in an era without digital cameras and editing on your laptop. Check out the size of the camcorder, Gen Z.

Packed with nugget after nugget of delightful detail about the kind of fellow who may never pass this way again, Mancunian Man should chime with casual movie fans and struggling, zero budget filmmakers alike. For all his flaws, Cliff Twemlow was a true one-off, and this totally captures the essence of why.

Movie Rating:

Mancunian Man: The Legendary Life of Cliff Twemlow Trailer