The Full Monty – with bells on

Jasper Britton, Dominique Pinon, Chaz Oldham. Photo / Supplied

Few people would deny that Morris dancing has a bit of an image problem. Middle-aged men wearing bells round their knees, fuelled by pints of cider or strong ale and prancing about with handkerchiefs isn't exactly what you'd call cool.

Even Charles "Chaz" Oldham, the British actor/producer who has made an affectionate mockumentary about the ancient British custom, admits it is often derided. "Fat knackers with beards and beer guts," says Oldham, summing up the stereotypical image of Morris men, who've been waving their hankies around Britain for the past five centuries. "It does slightly devalue it."

Oldham's film, Morris: A Life With Bells On, exploits the inherent comic potential of Morris dancing, without denigrating it. After all, the former lawyer and banker knows a thing or two about being judged on appearance. "Being six foot three, with red hair and starting acting at the age of 30, I had a number of conceptual hurdles to clear," he admits.

"No one was casting me, so I did the Noel Coward thing of writing my own stuff." Teaming with his then-girlfriend, now wife, actor Lucy Akhurst, Oldham bashed out the screenplay for Morris: A Life With Bells On. It turned out so well, the pair managed to raise £500,000 ($1.14 million) and attract a slew of well-known acting talents, including Derek Jacobi, Harriet Walter and Ian Hart. With Akhurst in the director's chair and Oldham in the lead role, the pair took a giant leap of faith into the world of film production.

The tongue-in-cheek mockumentary, in the style of This Is Spinal Tap, tells the story of Derecq Twist, a rebel in the hide-bound world of Morris dancing.

Although Twist dreams of joining the elite inner circle of Morris men by performing the legendary Threeple Hammer Damson, a gruelling 3 and-a-half-hour dance routine involving 427 separate prescribed moves, he is also an exponent of Extreme Morris, a blending of ancient traditions and modern dance moves.

"I live for Morris," Twist deadpans to the camera in the film's hilarious opening sequence. "I'd die for it. In fact ... some people I know have."

Twist eventually falls foul of the shadowy Morris Circle, led by the authoritarian Quentin Neely (Jacobi), which rusticates the upstart dancer, forcing him to hand in his hankies and sticks.

Eventually he flees to the United States where he joins the glamorous, perma-tanned OCM (Orange County Morris), dabbles with line dancing ("the devil's dance" Morris men mutter into their pints) and finally wins through in true Billy Elliot-style.

Oldham had never tried Morris dancing before making the film, and he now has enormous respect for those who do it, usually in pub car parks, at country shows and folk music events. "It's bloody hard work. Morris dancing is about leaping in the air and prancing on the balls of your feet." And some hefty whacking with wooden staves. "The odd cracked knuckle and chipped tooth was experienced on set," Oldham says, slipping suddenly into character with a pitch-perfect West Country burr.

Despite not being a dancer, his connection with Morris goes back to his teens. When his parents relocated to Australia, he was given the option of joining them or boarding with their neighbour in Devon.

"I came from a very traditional Daily Telegraph-reading, conservative household to a fantastically exotic Guardian-reading Morris dancing household. We'd be having a barbecue and my neighbour would disappear and reappear in his Morris kit. I was the only person there who thought this was slightly unusual." He paid close attention to what was going on, "squirrelling away" what he was learning about this aspect of British culture, with no inkling of when or how he would use it.

Despite making a film which gently pokes fun at its subject, Oldham says he was careful not to be cynical about it. "A couple of people in the intelligentsia haven't quite got their heads around the fact that you can have a mockumentary without being too nasty about the subject matter. "You would have a very short film if you did. 'Ha, ha, you're sad. That's it'.

People are incredibly passionate and devoted to Morris. Besides, my surrogate family would never speak to me again." The film has become something of a cult hit in Britain. It has played on up to 20 cinema screens each week in small towns and received huge attention on the internet.

Tipped as a "sleeper" hit, the film is being distributed here by Arkles Entertainment and Oldham is touring New Zealand this week to promote it. He's frustrated that the film hasn't achieved a wider release, despite its word-of-mouth popularity. "I think distributors underestimate what audiences like and want. It doesn't matter what the subject matter is. Look at Strictly Ballroom, Priscilla, The Full Monty. And Flight of the Conchords."

Ultimately perhaps, it was Morris men themselves who were the film's toughest crowd. But Oldham reckons they're secretly "thrilled that someone is taking them half seriously, and not being nasty".

* Morris: A Life With Bells On is out in cinemas from Thursday.