The cinematic rebirth of South America is the meaty, multifaceted topic that is astutely, fondly and – most refreshingly for a film book – unpretentiously examined in this engaging, interview-based title by London-based film writer Demetrious Matheou. Taking a leaf from Walter Salles’ Che Guevara biopic The Motorcycle Diaries, Matheou travelled to Latin America in search of a continent on the creative make while tracking down the key instigators of this so-called new wave.

An initial stumbling block is the adoption of Salles as the movement’s de facto godhead. For some, he has never substantiated his reputation with any meaningful cinematic accomplishment, yet his articulate, informed remarks about the social function of his work and the reasons for the simultaneous emergence of several distinctive national cinemas make you understand just why he has been placed front and centre. Following an extensive first segment that focuses on Brazil, covering well known directors such as Salles, Fernando Meirelles (City of God) and José Padilha (Bus 174), the book then shines a light on the lesser known, but equally important, talents from across the continent. Chile’s Pablo Larraín, maker of the queasily sublime Tony Manero, talks about the difficulties of making films that deal directly with the recent past, while Peru’s Claudia Llosa, who won the 2009 Golden Bear for her The Milk of Sorrow, reveals exactly how she captured the poetry of village life without exploiting or manipulating it.

Elusive Argentinian Lisandro Alonso is doorstepped after his failure to respond to emails, and gives a very entertaining interview about the practical minutiae of his profound, stripped-back directorial style. Working as both a dip-in reference guide and a defined narrative on the mechanics of this rejuvenation, the book imparts an overwhelming sense of positivity and enthusiasm for its subject and Matheou’s thoughtful interviewing technique doesn’t make it look like he’s trying to validate a predetermined thesis. It’s a shame that Colombia and Venezuela are not covered: even some thoughts as to why their cinema has not yet blossomed internationally would have been handy. But the biggest coup here is that – on the evidence of a revealing tête-à-tête with Argentina’s Lucrecia Martel – Matheou fully understood The Headless Woman in just a single viewing. Kudos indeed.

David Jenkins