As Still Pushing Pineapples gets ready to launch in UK cinemas, we caught up with Director Kim Hopkins of Labor of Love Films, to talk about the journey from idea to screen. From the enduring fame of Agadoo to the moving story of Dene Michael and his mother Ann, Hopkins shares how a light-hearted concept evolved into a deeply moving portrait of love, resilience and working-class life.

How long did it take from idea to completion, and how did the story evolve in the edit?

In July 2022, we’d just won the Audience Award at Sheffield DocFest with A Bunch of Amateurs, secured a BBC Storyville broadcast, and agreed on a theatrical release. Margareta (Margareta Szabo, Producer) and I felt we should move quickly into a new project while momentum was high. I’d been noticing the wave of recent IP documentaries, films like Hallelujah: Leonard Cohen and Taylor Swift: Miss Americana. These were highly curated, tightly controlled by the contributors, essentially expensive, long-form marketing. That got me thinking about the idea of accessible IP, but with full editorial independence.

True to form, and drawn to stories that speak to working-class life, my mind went to the 1980’s novelty pop duo Black Lace, and their infamous 1984 mega-hit Agadoo. I began researching their story and quickly realised that a conventional music biography wasn’t what I wanted to make. I was far more interested in what had happened to Black Lace and their many incarnations and where they’d ended up. That journey led me to Dene Michael, who was still touring the pubs and clubs with the Black Lace back catalogue.

Did anything happen during filming that completely surprised you, or changed the direction of the story?

The original story centred on Dene Michael, who was still touring the holiday camps, pubs and clubs up and down the country; from Minehead to Skegness, Blackpool, Manchester, and Sheffield. Long hours on the road, driving hundreds of miles before returning to his modest flat in Bradford in the early hours of the morning.

I’d worked out that Dene had sung Agadoo live around 10,000 times, that no matter what was happening in his life, he had to put on the party face and become Mr Agadoo for his adoring audiences. Then it was home to silence, alone with the demons in his own head. I found myself wondering: after nearly four decades on the road, doing the Conga, singing Superman, being Mr Agadoo; what does that do to a person?

Dene hadn’t had a serious romantic relationship for years; his work had consumed him. He’d become, in a sense, a giant pineapple. Then came the surprise, he met Hayley, and she turned his life upside down. That meeting became the emotional pivot of the film, the unexpected love story at its heart.

Dene’s relationship with his mum Anne is beautiful,  what did she and thier dynamic bring to the film that you didn’t expect?

Dene was made for the stage. He’s compliant; meaning he does his job without complaint, hardworking, reliable, and has a natural bond with his audience. He is his audience: a working-class lad who’s done alright, one of their own. No matter how tough things get or how chaotic his private life becomes, his public face is always a party face.

His mother, Ann, is his biggest fan and if Dene’s glass is half full, Ann’s is full to the brim. Now 89, she’s mostly confined to a wheelchair or mobility scooter, but that doesn’t slow her down. She can dance to Agadoo from the waist up and lead the Conga from her scooter.

Back in the early 1990s, Ann would visit Dene when he was performing in the clubs of Benidorm, those were their halcyon days. Now, her dream is to return to Benidorm one last time. The only problem: her doctors won’t let her fly. So, her devoted son Dene hatches a plan; a road trip to Benidorm in a clapped-out campervan. When warned about the risks of such a journey, Ann simply replies, “I’d rather die on the road to Benidorm than at home watching daytime TV.”

You’ve both been praised for celebrating working-class creativity, why are these stories so important to tell?

Still Pushing Pineapples is the second film in our trilogy of working-class stories, following A Bunch of Amateurs. The final film, The Local, is set in a real ale pub and is due for completion in 2026/27.

Many documentaries about the working class can feel anthropological; ours are different. We aim to make films that allow contributors to speak for themselves, without narration and to gently guide the narrative rather than control it. Even when exploring hardship, we look for light: to celebrate resilience, to be kind, and to always find humour and hope.

How do you hope audiences will feel when they walk out of the cinema?

We hope the audience has been entertained, and that they’ve learned something new about our contributors, something they didn’t already know. We want them to be surprised, thoughtful, and to reflect on the subtext behind the main story.

We like to tell nuanced stories, ones that reward careful watching, that invite second or even third viewings. We love it when audiences wonder how on earth we managed to capture certain moments, or how we gained such intimacy and trust.

Most of all, we want audiences to leave wanting to see the next film made by Labor of Love Films.

Labor of Love Films is based in York, how has that shaped your approach to storytelling and filmmaking?

We’re regionally based in Yorkshire, and that’s absolutely central to the stories we want to tell. I was born and raised here, though I spent a couple of decades living and working in London. Margareta is from Budapest, Hungary. Together we founded our production company, Labor of Love Films, in 2012, and we’re now producing our fifth feature documentary.

Our name says a lot about our ethos. Living and working in the regions is our superpower. We’re embedded in the communities we film, living and breathing the stories we tell. We’re constantly inspired by the people, places, and untold stories that surround us. And let’s face it we can take more creative risks because our overheads are lower than they would be in London.

That said, there are real challenges. The industry is still heavily centralised in London. BAFTA is in central London, the BFI hierarchy is in central London which means we have to work that much harder to be visible. The truth is London-based producers are far more likely to end up in the awards mix each season; they can network and lobby in their own backyard. For us, it’s a costly two-hour journey just to have that coffee with a BAFTA voter.

Confession time….how many times has Agadoo been stuck in your head since production started? 

As I mentioned earlier, I worked out that Dene Michael has sung Agadoo around 10,000 times, which means he’s “pushed his pineapple” roughly 30,000 times. He’s still pushing pineapples, quite literally.

I’ve been working on this film for about three years, with a full year in the edit, so you can imagine how many times I’ve heard Agadoo. I come from a punk rock background; Siouxsie and the Banshees were my go-to band in the early ’80s, followed by Bob Dylan and Van Morrison, so Agadoo was never really my cup of tea. But that’s kind of the point of making Still Pushing Pineapples: to immerse myself in a world I knew very little about.

I’m fairly sure my neighbours are now questioning my taste in music. Agadoo do do!

What’s one moment from filming that sums up the spirit of the movie for you?

We pride ourselves on getting close to our contributors, earning their trust and building lasting friendships. One moment during filming that really stood out was when Dene and Hayley were struggling in their relationship.

The pressures were mounting: living a hundred miles apart, Dene’s heavy workload and responsibilities caring for his elderly mother, and Hayley juggling her own job and children. All of it was taking a toll.

Then, one Friday evening around 10 p.m., Hayley called to say she was driving the 100 miles to Dene’s flat to confront things head-on and she wanted us to be there to film it. That moment captured the depth of trust we’d built together.

What’s next for Labor of Love Films,  are there more stories like this on the horizon?

Planned for 2026/27, The Local will be the third and final film in our working-class trilogy.

“In the end, in Britain, when you want to know how people are feeling, you always go to the pubs,” wrote novelist Martha Gellhorn. Yet every day, two pubs close their doors for good.

At a time when documentary filmmaking is increasingly dominated by brokered puff pieces, celebrity profiles, and sensationalised crime stories, I find myself yearning for something different. With The Local, my aim is to strip away the distractions the imposed narratives, the heightened drama, the artificial gloss of modern production aesthetics and to rediscover the raw, unfiltered voice of ordinary people.

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Still Pushing Pineapples cinema release begins on 28th November, with a preview screening tonight at Pictureville Cinema in Bradford, followed by an Q&A interview with Screen Yorkshire CEO, Caroline Cooper Charles. Find tickets  to all screenings here: laboroflovefilms.com/where-to-watch