Tricky things epics. By definition they must be long otherwise they wouldn’t be epic. By necessity, therefore, they take time to explore their thematic content. It is incumbent on the epic to sustain quality throughout in order to achieve greatness. This film tries very hard, but the effort shows, particularly in the third part of what is, essentially, a triptych that explores the seamier underbelly of American life, past and present.

At two hours twenty minutes long, the film sprawls its way through the events of many years in Schenectady, New York. The Mowhawk name of the town gives the film its title. The three movements of the plot begin with the discovery by motorbike stuntman, Luke Glanton, that he has a son in the town – a result of a one-night stand with Romina, the daughter of a Spanish immigrant family.

The heady mix of petrol, poverty and promiscuity offer a rich canvas on which director Derek Cianfrance paints a picture of an America of a few years ago. An America under attack from its own disenfranchised. Although not set in the fifties, the parallels with Rebel Without A Cause’ are evident. The American Dream is shattering and this story of fathers and sons, and the women who are their collateral damage, makes uncomfortable viewing. The similarity with the earlier film is emphasised by a terrific, brooding performance by Ryan Gosling as Glanton. James Dean he is not, but he rides a mean motorbike and sports some magnificent tattoos whilst peppering every line with the ubiquitous f-word. If you are offended by swearing then this film is not for you. Eva Mendes as Romina is persuasive as ghetto good-time girl aspiring to attain respectability.

This part of the film is the most enjoyable. Perhaps it’s the adrenalin filled bank-heists, or just a pervasive nostalgia, which appeals. There is a sense of anti-climax as realisation dawns. Glanton is not going to reappear and we are to move on to a different America. An America full of apparently square-jawed jocks but one that is riven, also, with corruption – both individual and institutional.

The second Act of the film is a reverse mirror of the first as the focus settles on the all-American boy Avery Cross. Bright, clean-cut, a Law graduate who has entered the police force, Cross seems destined for great things. Disastrously, his narrative becomes inextricably entwined with the legacy of Glanton’s wasted life, to the detriment of both. The film is not unpredictable and as soon as his own young son is presented there is a realisation that the families’ mutual involvement in each others’ affairs is going to be pan-generational. The acting is convincing once again with Bradley Cooper moving to centre stage aided and abetted by Rose Byrne as his wife Jennifer.

And so it transpires as the final Act gets underway. The two boys, now fully grown up, rebel against their own parents in their own turn. The performances of Dane DeHaan and Emory Cohen as Glanton fils and Cross fils are full of repressed [and not so repressed] anger and consonant-eschewing modernity. Fuelled by drugs and alcohol, revenge and pathos, the characters and their director finally allow the film to meander towards a predictable, but not unsatisfying end.

The technical achievements are significant. The movie looks, feels and sounds like an authentic America. If you have time to spare, you could do worse than experience that place through Cianfrance’s eyes.

Watching a play about Peterborough at The Junction in Cambridge is a slightly dislocating experience. But Eastern Angles’ decision to tour the piece outside of its area of immediate local interest is vindicated. Kenneth Emson’s documentary play with music by Simon Egerton is an impeccably researched piece of work that examines the development of the town through the eyes of a young family dreaming of a better life.  This is a necessary device as the history of the growth of the urban sprawl of the city we now know has the potential to be of specialist interest. Emson has wisely chosen to engage his audience’s hearts with the human story whilst offering a litany of factual evidence written as semi-pastiche in order to engage their heads.

London was in crisis after the Second World War. A rapidly expanding population and severely reduced housing stock forced the Government of the time to look further afield. Their eyes settled on the distant fields of north Cambridgeshire. For the social historian, the play is a fascinating canter through some of the events that defined Britain of the late twentieth century. We are offered political debate and decision-making in the guise of TV quiz shows of the various era [who remembers Blankety Blank without an involuntary shudder?]. Songs which are clearly derived from the music of Abba and the Beatles illuminate the subject matter. The central character of Peter catalogues historical events that provided the background to the tale of Peterborough’s reinvention as a new town. The Great Train Robbery; Liverpool FC’s seemingly endless appropriation of the 1st Division trophy; Dixon of Dock Green; the Thatcher administration, Aids and the economic straights which are now the nation’s plight; all, and much more, jog the memory and provide the context.

The story of Peterborough itself benefits from this contextual placement. From the annexation of vast acres of agricultural land by compulsory purchase to the hopelessly optimistic installation of a fixed-price community central heating system [so warm it melted snow on the streets], the city grows in stature and in status throughout the evening with the cathedral acting as a touchstone of immutability throughout. It is subject to the normal ups and downs of life and the major protagonists in its story are affected likewise. At the head of Peterborough Development Corporation, Wyndham Thomas, was clearly a visionary colossus who drove through his ideas with the enthusiasm and support of a loyal and believing team. The story is one of their qualified success.

The emigrant London family of Jack, Mary, Peter and Janice work, play, love, laugh, fight and die. Their story is intensely normal. It’s one that was played out in thousands of houses across the country. What is interesting is Emson’s version that sees an unbreakable bond being created between the people and the place. Initially resistant to the move out, Mary wants to return, ultimately, to Peterborough to pass her remaining days. It is a touching accolade for her adopted home.

There are some lovely songs that enrich the piece. Egerton’s touch is assured with a real mastery of musical style and genre being very much in evidence. His New Town Blues is an especial triumph. The performances, the design and the direction are clear, giving pride of place to the inspiration for the whole endeavour – the flawed diamond that is Peterborough.