What would it feel like to belong to the land, through greater access to it and connection with it? That’s the question at the heart of Our Land, a new film by director, Orban Wallace.
The film follows the debate between the Right to Roam campaign – which asks for ‘a default of responsible access to land and water to replace the current default of exclusion’, in the same style as Scotland – and some of the wealthy landowners on the other side of the argument.
50 per cent of England is owned by just 1 per cent of its inhabitants, according to Right to Roam co-founder Guy Shrubsole, while nearly three quarters of our woodland has no public access. A Right to Roam exists in just 8% of England. It’s this imbalance that the film seeks to uncover and explore.
We hear from landowner Francis Fulford, no stranger to courting sweary controversy after his early 2000s reality TV show, The F***ing Fulfords. True to form, he lambasts the idea of access to his land that hasn’t been bought and paid for, describing the countryside as a ‘factory’ from which money must be made. With more than a whiff of the caricature, he harangues his disobedient Labrador, shows off his ‘f***ing massive’ “garden”, takes us on a pheasant shoot, and decries the general lack of intelligence among the public.
He’s provocative and polarising, but more thoughtful reflections on what fair and responsible land ownership comes from amiable estate owner, Hugh Inge-Innes-Lillingston, who is aware of and seemingly sympathetic to the sense of injustice, but admits it’s a complicated issue to unpick, and that wholesale systemic change is what’s needed, rather than individual.
On the other side of the debate are the Right to Roamers, and we get a glimpse of some of their peaceful trespasses, from carnival-esque gatherings including Morris dancers and folk costumes, to quiet birdwatching in the woods, as the pheasant shoot takes place close-by. And of course, the several thousand-strong gathering on Dartmoor to oppose landowner Alexander Darwall’s ultimately unsuccessful attempt to ban wild camping on his land. Campaigner, Nadia Shaikh, gives an impassioned and personal argument for the sense of unity and belonging that a close connection with nature, which, she reminds us, we are all part of, can give to us.
Most convincingly perhaps, the film takes us to Scotland, where people have enjoyed a legal Right to Roam for 20 years or so – not long in the grand scheme of things, but long enough for it to feel embedded and expected. We get a glimpse of the kind of relationship with both the land, and each other, we could enjoy on the other side the border.
Weaving in themes of class, colonialism, and culture, it’s a compelling story, beautifully told, of people, land, rights and belonging. It’s hard not to feel that some voices were sacrificed for those of the landed gentry which might have offered complexity, practicality, and nuance. With almost 70% of England agricultural land, it would have been interesting to hear from some of the farming communities working on either side of the campaign, and what some of those relationships look like. As it stands, the film highlights a moral, rather than practical, conversation. But it’s a big story to tell, and it does a rousing job.
Review by Hannah Marsh. Find a local screening and learn more about the film, here.
