How Chris Morris fixed his eye on ideology and bombers

Best known for TV's Brass Eye and The Day Today, Chris Morris has made his directorial debut at the Sundance festival with a film about British suicide bombers.

Chris Morris's Four Lions: Exclusive clip

Four Lions, the eagerly-awaited feature film debut from Brass Eye's Chris Morris, premieres at the Sundance film festival on Saturday. In this exclusive clip, we see how not to buy a dozen bottles of bomb-making bleach.

Four Lions: Ten things you need to know

Never one to shy away from controversy, Brass Eye satirist Chris Morris' hotly anticipated debut as a movie director is unsurprisingly provocative.

Putting the "ha" in jihad, Chris Morris tackles his most controversial subject to date: wannabe suicide bombers. Set in the godless north of England, the film aims to prove that while terrorism might be about ideology, it's also about idiots. According to Warp Films, Four Lions (previously known as Boilerhouse) "understands how terrorism relates to testosterone. It understands jihadis as human beings. And it understands human beings as innately ridiculous." As part of his research Morris spoke to terrorism experts, imams, police and Muslim community workers. And as he describes it himself, the film shows the "Dad's Army side to terrorism".

Anyone with fond memories of Chris Morris's dearly loved news spoof On The Hour could do far worse than tune into this comic version of the Today programme penned by Ian Hislop and Nick Newman. Starring a first-rate cast of British comedy talent, helmed by Jack Dee and Peter Capaldi, The News At Bedtime is an almost hypnologic take on the conventions of a modern radio news programme, which presents streams of dreamlike absurdity with a staunchly straight face. While the content is a little silly at times, comedy fans and news junkies will still find plenty to enjoy.

The all-female ensemble sketch show is an easy and predictable target for sexist comedy-haters, but Girl Friday should provide the opposing camp with plenty of ammunition. There's a hint of Chris Morris's Jam in the way it twists the usual fodder for less sophisticated sketches, such as the crazy drunk girl in a pub, and gives them a surreal or clever denouement. Josie Long heads up the cast, and it all works so nicely that it deserves to get a full run.

Chris Morris's 'jihadi comedy' - a first look

The first official stills from Four Lions, the Brass Eye creator's feature film about would-be suicide bombers, have emerged.

Set Shot From Chris Morris' Four Lions/Boilerhouse

This is an amateur shot from the filming of the new Chris Morris movie, Boilerhouse (and/or) Four Lions, in Sheffield. Described as a "comedy of terror", it's the story of four North England young Islamic extremists and their attempts to create a terrorist atrocity, focusing on the errors, mistakes, clashes and diversion common to any project that, well, involves people.

News waffle was the enemy on Charlie Brooker's Newswipe - the new show from the newspaper critic. Newswipe began on an odd note - tortuously spending five minutes explaining what it was, when anyone who'd seen it in the listings had simply thought: "Oh, Newswipe. That will be like Brooker's previous series - Screenwipe - but about current affairs, instead of telly." Also - and perhaps inevitably - Newswipe had the faint, cordite smell of The Day Today clinging to its hair. For half an hour it was a show that basically wanted to say, in the words of Chris Morris: "These are the headlines. I wish to God they weren't."

Still, Brooker's schtick - an intelligent, liberal man brought to the brink of despair simply by looking at the BBC's homepage - is as welcome dissecting the German high-school shootings as it is Holby; and having an ROFL Newsnight is something to cling to in the schedules.

"You shouldn't criticise," says the archetypal mother figure, "If you can't do better yourself." It's a truism that boggle-eyed curmudgeon Charlie Brooker has dedicated his life to proving. The Guardianista set love his brand of anaemic satire because it never challenges their worldview; it simply articulates their own opinions in a stream of Chris Morris Lite vituperative logorrhoea. But even they have to question his poacher-turned-gamekeeper urge to make television programmes, particularly when it results in tat like Nathan Barley or Dead Set, a Swiftian satire dedicated to the coruscating proposition that Big Brother isn't very good. Screenwipe is Brooker's chance to show us what he thinks quality programming should be. So what do we get? Estuary-accented invective deliveredveryfastindeed, as if gabbling makes it somehow more trenchant, and grainy footage of Charlie sitting on his sofa shouting bleeped profanities at his television. If he were a student making videos for a media-studies course, his cheap ire might be acceptable. But this is national television, and Charlie Brooker is 37 years old.