The Golden Spurtle (2025)
I will be the first to admit that my viewing habits can lead me down some genuinely strange rabbit holes, and The Golden Spurtle is about as deep into the rabbit hole as I have ever gone. A documentary about the World Porridge Championships. I watched it. I watched all of it. And I have absolutely no regrets.
Constantine Costi turns his camera on a windswept little Scottish town that plays host to this wonderfully bizarre annual competition, where earnest contestants from what feels like every corner of the world slave over their oats, all chasing the titular Golden Spurtle, a bespoke trophy hand-crafted by the head judge. The first time I heard that premise I genuinely laughed out loud, convinced I was in for something closer to a gentle piss-take than a proper film. But here is the thing: Costi plays it completely straight. No winking at the audience, no cheap laughs at the competitors' expense. He treats the World Porridge Championships with the same respect you might afford the Olympics, and somehow that is exactly the right call.
Because what makes this work, what really makes it sing, is the unshakeable seriousness with which every single competitor approaches their oat-based creation. These people care. They care about texture, about temperature, about the ancient art of stirring with a spurtle rather than a spoon. And because they care, you start to care too. I found myself genuinely invested in the outcome, caught up in debates about salt versus no salt, traditional versus specialty categories, and the subtle politics of a judging panel deliberating over breakfast food. Costi captures a real warmth in the local community as well, the kind of small-town pride and collective joy that is instantly recognisable and immediately endearing.
It reminded me a little of watching Cannibal Tours, in the sense that both films take a slightly surreal cultural ritual and observe it with enough patience and empathy that you come away genuinely moved rather than merely amused. That is rarer than it sounds. The temptation to play strange subcultures for laughs is always there, and resisting it is a real mark of a documentary filmmaker who trusts their subject matter.
There is not a lot of manufactured drama here, and the film is all the better for it. Costi does not need to construct tension artificially because the inherent absurdity of the scenario, combined with the very real human passion on display, does all the heavy lifting. It is a sharp reminder that you do not need grand historical epics or true-crime scandal to hold an audience. Sometimes, you just need a good story about people who really, truly, deeply care about porridge.
Is it a perfect film? No, I would not go that far. There are moments where the pacing dips slightly and you feel the modest scale of the production. But those are minor quibbles. What Costi has put together is a thoroughly enjoyable, heartwarming piece of work that punches well above its culinary weight. It will not change your life, but it will absolutely put a smile on your face, and by the end you will have a genuine, unironic appreciation for Scottish breakfast culture that you absolutely did not have going in.
Three stars. A delightful little film that proves the magic of documentary making lies not in the grandness of the subject, but in the empathy of the person behind the camera. Now if you will excuse me, I need to go and buy a spurtle.
Rating: ★★★ | Year: 2025 | Watched: 2026-07-13
Where to watch
Watch in the UK
Stream: ITVX Premium
Rent: Apple TV Store · Rakuten TV · Amazon Video · Sky Store
Buy: Apple TV Store · Rakuten TV · Amazon Video · Sky Store
Physical: Amazon UK · Zavvi
Watch in the US
Rent: Amazon Video · Apple TV Store
Buy: Amazon Video · Apple TV Store
Physical: Amazon US
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