David Lynch shot his first film, 'Erasurehead', over several years, adding new scenes each time he managed to raise a little bit more cash. Kevin Smith made 'Clerks' at work, while working as a clerk, and Robert Rodriguez has boasted that 'From Dusk Till Dawn' cost precisely $30,000. But $30,000 is still a hell of a lot of money to raise if you work as a cleaner in a cemetery. And what if an aspiring film maker not only had such a job but also had all the ambition of such luminaries, and all the dorkishness of Smith, but absolutely none of the talent. Such a figure is Mark Borchardt, the subject of this hilarious documentary which chronicles his attempt to make a pair of movies over many many years. Borchardt combines his lunatic dreams with flights of depression and a fatal inability to call it a day; one senses he almost prefers the endless labours of searching for an impossible perfection to an accommodation with the reality that he's simply (on the evidence presented in 'American Movie') not very good. And like a modern day Ed Wood, he surrounds himself with an epic crowd of fellow losers, his genuine affection for whom is his greatest redeeming feature. The collection includes his warring parents, his best friends (one a criminal, the other a reformed drug addict), his own hapless children and best of all his aged Uncle Bill. Bill may live in a trailer park, and just about have given up on life, but he is the owner of a small fortune ($280,000 to be precise) and the touching but potentially exploitative relationship between the two men lies at the heart of the film. Borchardt manages to enlist a few actors to perform (alongside himself, of course) but in the main he is wholly dependent on friends and family to complete his work (even Bill has a role on camera). On British TV, the BBC brilliantly scheduled a screening of 'American Movie' back-to-back with 'Lost in La Mancha', the story of Terry Gilliam's ill fated attempt to film 'Don Quixote'. In that film, one was impressed by the huge amount of professionalism on display (inadequate as it was to the task in hand), and just how damn difficult it is even for experts with millions to spend to make a film; whereas Borschadt is not only penniless, but also such a clown that he can't even pronounce the name of his own work ('Coven') properly. Ultimately, Borschadt is human enough for you to want him to succeed, but awful enough for the viewer to still be able to laugh at his failures. If this film was fiction, you'd dismiss it as unbelievable; but as it is, it's one of the funniest documentaries you're likely to see.