The most manly men crumble when mother raises her voice

Ken Wardrop, one of our country's most talented young documentarians, will go on to be many things, but, for the moment, we are calling him the laureate of motherhood. Ken's previous film, the wonderful His & Hers, was not specifically about that subject, but, touching on all female relationships with men, it inevitably dallied in maternal territories.

He attacks the subject directly in this moving, hypnotic gathering of voices from the great state of Oklahoma. Ken kicks off with a shaky, unnecessary high concept that occasionally risks derailing the project.

Local radio host Joe Cristano invites listeners to phone in with thoughts on their mothers. Many allow Ken to film them as they do so. Can that be right? The film-makers can’t be in the studio and with the convict who phones in from the prison phone. Are we supposed to assume some artifice? Is this actually happening as suggested? The uncertainty occasionally distracts from emotions that are worth savouring.

For the most part, however, Mom & Me manages to keep the viewer pressed to its forgiving bosom. Ken has chosen his subjects perfectly. We meet the occasional eccentric – observe the red-haired lady who's hired a choreographer for her funeral – but there is no sense that Wardrop is curating oddballs. There are all sorts here. An ancient Native American woman who plays chess furiously with her gentle, focused son. A lady who coaxes her African-American boy in wheelchair athletics. A gun-totting army vet who can't understand why his mother won't fully embrace his passion for rifles.

Domestic viewers will politely remark on a few local oddities – so many of the men are overweight – and then move on to embrace the universality of the conversations. Featuring characteristic washed-out camerawork by the excellent Kate McCullough, the film confirms how even the most manly of men crumble slightly when their mother raises her voice.

One might reasonable argue that Mom & Me leaves out those sons who actively loathe their parents (and vice versa), but Wardrop is not attempting any sort of comprehensive survey. He chooses his own emotional environment and he explores it with admirable sensitivity and humour. Worth the admission price for the pets alone.

Carry on, Ken.