Glen Fulthorpe on No Two Ways and the Complexity of Real Lives

In an era when documentary storytelling often gravitates toward clear arcs of downfall and redemption, Glen Fulthorpe’sNo Two Ways deliberately chooses a more patient and reflective path. The film follows Biggy, a British-Iraqi man attempting to rebuild his life while confronting the lingering effects of racial profiling, past mistakes, and the responsibilities of faith and fatherhood. Rather than constructing a dramatic narrative of transformation, the film lingers in the quieter spaces—moments of reflection, uncertainty, and the fragile effort of moving forward.

Fulthorpe approaches Biggy’s story with an observational sensibility, allowing conversations, silences, and everyday moments to shape the film’s emotional landscape. The result is a portrait that resists easy categorization, focusing instead on the contradictions and complexities that define a person’s life. No Two Ways has resonated strongly on the international festival circuit, earning selections at the Aesthetica Film Festival, the Tony Curtis International Film Festival, and the Norwich Film Festival, while also receiving the Special Jury Prize at Flickerfest.

In this conversation with Final Cut Magazine, Fulthorpe reflects on building trust with his subject, resisting conventional documentary structure, and why sometimes the most powerful thing a filmmaker can do is simply observe.

Glen, what first drew you to Biggy’s story, and how did No Two Ways begin to take shape?

No Two Ways began with conversations with Biggy about life in the neighbourhood and the complicated reality of trying to rebuild one's life. I was interested in the quieter moments that rarely make it into stories about people like Biggy—reflection, faith, family, and the internal work of change.

The film was shot in an observational style, allowing scenes to unfold naturally while weaving in a central interview that grounds the narrative. Rather than forcing a dramatic arc, the film focuses on atmosphere, presence, and the contradictions that exist within a person’s life.

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Many documentaries about personal struggle tend to push toward a clear resolution. Your film deliberately avoids that. Why was it important for you to resist a traditional redemption narrative?

I was drawn to Biggy because of his openness and his willingness to sit with uncomfortable truths. Often stories about people from where we're from are framed in simple terms—redemption or failure—but life rarely moves in straight lines.

With No Two Ways I wanted to create space for a quieter, more reflective portrait. The film isn’t trying to solve Biggy’s life or explain it neatly. Instead it observes moments of reflection, faith, fatherhood, and uncertainty as he navigates what comes next.

The camera becomes a witness rather than a judge. By spending time with Biggy and allowing silence, conversation, and stillness to guide the film, I hoped to capture something more human than a typical narrative arc—the complexity of a person trying to move forward.

Building that kind of portrait requires a great deal of trust. What were the biggest challenges during the process?

Trust and patience were the biggest challenges. Telling someone’s story requires time and care, especially when dealing with sensitive subjects like identity and family.

Another challenge was resisting the urge to simplify the story. Real lives are messy and complex, and the film tries to honour that rather than impose a tidy narrative.

When you look at the finished film today, what aspect are you most proud of?

I’m proud of the honesty in Biggy’s voice and the stillness the film allows.

In a media landscape that often demands quick answers and dramatic structure, the film tries to sit with uncertainty and let the audience spend time with a person rather than a storyline.

What initially led you toward documentary filmmaking?

I came to filmmaking through curiosity about people and their stories. Documentary felt like the most natural form because it allows you to explore real lives and complex experiences.

For me, filmmaking became a way to ask questions about identity, family, and the forces that shape people’s lives.

What kinds of stories are you hoping to explore next?

I’m continuing to develop documentary projects that explore personal and social histories.

Much of my work is driven by conversations and relationships, so future projects will likely continue in that direction—intimate stories that reveal wider social realities.

No Two Ways has already traveled through several festivals. What role do festivals play for documentary filmmakers today?

Film festivals create a space where films can be experienced collectively and discussed.

They allow filmmakers to share work with audiences who are genuinely curious and engaged. They’re also important for connecting filmmakers with each other and building a community around storytelling.

What advice would you give filmmakers navigating the festival circuit?

Be patient and strategic. Not every film fits every festival, so research where your work might resonate.

Also remember that festivals are just one part of a film’s life. The most important thing is making work that feels honest to you.

Looking ahead, how do you see the future of cinema evolving?

I think the future of film will continue to expand across platforms, but the core of storytelling won’t change.

Audiences will always be drawn to authentic human stories. What’s exciting is that technology and accessibility are allowing more voices and perspectives to emerge.

Are there filmmakers whose work has particularly influenced your approach?

I admire filmmakers who create space for observation and human complexity—directors like Steve McQueen and Asif Kapadia. Their work demonstrates how cinema can be both visually powerful and deeply reflective.

Is there a film you’ve recently revisited that still resonates with you?

I recently revisited Hunger, which I admire for its restraint and commitment to visual storytelling. It’s a powerful reminder of how silence and stillness can carry enormous emotional weight.

Final Cut: Why No Two Ways Matters

Watching No Two Ways, I was reminded of something that often gets lost in contemporary documentary filmmaking: the courage to not resolve a story. Glen Fulthorpe’s film refuses to reduce a life to a moral lesson or a neat arc of transformation. Instead, it sits patiently beside its subject and allows time, silence, and contradiction to do the work.

What emerges is something rare—a portrait of a man not as a symbol or a case study, but simply as a person navigating the complicated terrain of identity, family, and responsibility.

In the broader spectrum of independent cinema, films like No Two Ways play an essential role. They remind us that storytelling does not always need spectacle or narrative certainty to be meaningful. Sometimes the most radical gesture a filmmaker can make is to slow down, observe, and trust the audience enough to sit with ambiguity.

And in that quiet space between certainty and doubt, cinema becomes something deeper than entertainment—it becomes a way of understanding the fragile complexity of being human.