Bank of Dave is the ‘true(ish)’ story, as this puts it, of Dave Fishwick, the Burnley businessman who wanted to set up a high street bank to help the local community. He was, Fishwick said in a recent interview, at home when the call came from Piers Ashworth in LA. ‘He’s the writer of Mission Impossible and he’d heard about my story and he said: “Dave, I want to make a Hollywood film about your life.” You get this a lot in Burnley, ha!’ I was made up for Dave, who seems like an excellent fellow, and this does have all the makings of one of those British underdog dramas I’m a total sucker for. (See: Calendar Girls, Kinky Boots, Eddie the Eagle, Phantom of the Open, etc.)

But, alas, it’s not ‘true-ish’ as it’s barely true at all. There are many fictionalised elements – a romance, a courtroom showdown and, most bizarrely, the appearance of Def Leppard – and in this way it becomes formulaically distracted and often loses sight of its main character. I now feel bad for Dave. Shall I tell him, or will you?

Dave’s story, which was originally brought to the nation’s attention in a 2012 Channel 4 documentary, is a fascinating one. Having left school at 16 with no qualifications, he went on to make millions selling mini-vans. Come the financial crash of 2008, he noted that many of his customers were struggling and couldn’t get bank loans to tide them over. In fact, everyone was struggling.

But would a regular bank lend money to a busker of no fixed address who needed £180 for a new amp? Dave set up on the high street and started lending, making decisions based on the people in front of him, not via some computer 300 miles away. (The busker paid him back on time, by the way.) Yet if he wanted to take deposits, he’d need a banking licence and the regulators hadn’t issued a new licence for 150 years. Could Dave swing it?

The film opens just after the financial crash, with Dave (Rory Kinnear) down the pub, where a local hands him a cheque to pay off his loan. On the way home, he puts the idea of starting a bank to his wife, Nicola. ‘Last I heard you were selling vans,’ she says. ‘You haven’t been to Eton and you haven’t been to Oxford and you don’t talk posh. Do you really think you can beat them buggers at their own game?’ ‘When you put it like that,’ says Dave, ‘I really want to give it a go.’ He hires a London corporate lawyer, Hugh (Joel Fry), to deal with the regulators. Hugh begrudgingly visits Burnley and falls for its charms, as well as Fishwick’s niece, Alexandra (Phoebe Dynevor). Yet there was never a Hugh and there was never an Alexandra. If you want to make that story, make that one, not this one, wouldn’t you say?

I kept pausing the film and googling to find out: ‘Did that really happen?’ Was there a courtroom showdown? Did Def Leppard perform a fund-raising concert? (No, and also: no.) Why all that and not, say, the backstories of those who’d had to borrow? There are pockets of charm, and Kinnear captures something of a man who is sensationally rich but has never lost touch with his humanity or roots. But, as directed by Chris Foggin, it’s all fairly one-dimensional, as is the script. Ashworth, I now realise, wrote the first draft of Mission Impossible. And then Fisherman’s Friends.

The film ends on a note of absolute triumph even though Fishwick still doesn’t have a licence, which seems deceitful. But, as the end credits tell us, he has persisted in lending – how? – and has so far loaned £30 million with all interest accrued going to local charities. An excellent fellow. (You tell him. I think that would be for the best.)