Perhaps it's inevitable that the first Patrick Keiller film I watched - Robinson in Ruins - was my least favourite, and the most recent one I watched is my favourite. His idiosyncrasies, the peculiar dryness of his films, takes a certain while to settle into. Now, I'm a convert, attuned enough to his running obsessions to have to stifle a cheer when Paul Scofield's narrator mentions Rimbaud or Sterne.
In this follow-up to London, Robinson has returned from whatever paranoid…