A documentary based on a one-man show sounds like death warmed up — cinema for people who don’t like cinema. Yet Malcolm McDowell’s 100-minute “chat” about much admired British director Lindsay Anderson — with whom he worked five times — contains enough juicy moments to keep you hooked.

Naturally, things begin with If... And while this section is a tad self-serving (it’s as much about McDowell’s genius as Anderson’s, “and so a star is born ...”) it underscores what a flexible force the director could be.

McDowell fancied the lead actress, Christine Noonan, so suggested they do one of their scenes nude. Anderson shrugged and said fine.

It’s possible, of course, that he wanted to see McDowell in the buff, because also up for discussion is Anderson’s “celibate” homosexuality. His disastrous crush on Richard Harris, which began while they were working on This Sporting Life, receives special attention. This might sound like an invasion of privacy but it’s the director’s own diary entries that provide the insights.

McDowell is a strange presence. These days, he looks like a phantasmagorical version of Sting. When it comes to humour, he has a heavy touch and his eyes well up with alarming ease. But his love — and respect for — Anderson seem genuine. He makes you long to watch many of the films again (O Lucky Man! in particular); he (inadvertently) makes you want to run like hell from others (even This Sporting Life looks dated).