October 3, 2006
An unfortunate misfire, this film starts well, flounders in the middle and finally descends into out and out clunky.
Jeremy Brock (writer, Mrs Brown, Charlotte Gray) apparently based this story on an episode in his own life, yet struggles to achieve a sense of direction in his directorial debut. Matters start out promisingly, with sexually and emotionally repressed 17 year old Ben (Grint) from middle-class Finchley taking a summer job as assistant to ageing alcoholic, almost-on-the-scrap-heap actress Evie (Walters). He is seeking to escape the miserable existence of his home life, where his hyper (and hypocritical) Mum (Linney) plays the overbearing matriarch to his shy and kindly vicar Dad. There is some great interplay between Walters and Grint, as she slyly nurtures the kid’s confidence and subtly brings him out of himself. Although this kind of gobby, fallen from grace, once-a-great-dame role is the kind that Walters can play in her sleep, it seems fresh and funny when counter-pointed with Grint’s initial inertia and shyness.
Unfortunately, for all Walters and Grint’s best efforts, Brock’s screenplay is unfocused and never seems to be able to decide what it wants to be about. The friendship between Evie and Ben is clumsily drawn, and were it not for the fine work of the actors, would scarcely be believable. Halfway through the film, a revelation by Evie seems to take the story into a new dimension, only for her to (unconvincingly) discount it at a later point. A key reference to her past is only mentioned twice, and fails to be affecting as a result. One of the plot strands (Ben’s crush and attempted wooing of a church group girl) goes nowhere, as does his romance with a chirpy young assistant at the Edinburgh festival, which simply peters out. Linney’s hopelessly miscast and wobbly accented performance as his dreadful Mother does nothing to aide proceedings, and the finale, in which Walters turns a group of repressed Christians into an all-singing, all-dancing gospel congregation is so ridiculous and hammy as to beggar belief.
Ultimately, it’s a shame that Brock couldn’t get a tighter handle on his material. If he had have done, the result would have been a fine piece of work; a cute and touching story about friends, parents and being middle class, with two great performances from his leading actors to boot. As it is, the performances are all that remain, and what is inoffensive and sincere enough to hold the attention is still fundamentally disappointing.
Jeremy Brock (writer, Mrs Brown, Charlotte Gray) apparently based this story on an episode in his own life, yet struggles to achieve a sense of direction in his directorial debut. Matters start out promisingly, with sexually and emotionally repressed 17 year old Ben (Grint) from middle-class Finchley taking a summer job as assistant to ageing alcoholic, almost-on-the-scrap-heap actress Evie (Walters). He is seeking to escape the miserable existence of his home life, where his hyper (and hypocritical) Mum (Linney) plays the overbearing matriarch to his shy and kindly vicar Dad. There is some great interplay between Walters and Grint, as she slyly nurtures the kid’s confidence and subtly brings him out of himself. Although this kind of gobby, fallen from grace, once-a-great-dame role is the kind that Walters can play in her sleep, it seems fresh and funny when counter-pointed with Grint’s initial inertia and shyness.
Unfortunately, for all Walters and Grint’s best efforts, Brock’s screenplay is unfocused and never seems to be able to decide what it wants to be about. The friendship between Evie and Ben is clumsily drawn, and were it not for the fine work of the actors, would scarcely be believable. Halfway through the film, a revelation by Evie seems to take the story into a new dimension, only for her to (unconvincingly) discount it at a later point. A key reference to her past is only mentioned twice, and fails to be affecting as a result. One of the plot strands (Ben’s crush and attempted wooing of a church group girl) goes nowhere, as does his romance with a chirpy young assistant at the Edinburgh festival, which simply peters out. Linney’s hopelessly miscast and wobbly accented performance as his dreadful Mother does nothing to aide proceedings, and the finale, in which Walters turns a group of repressed Christians into an all-singing, all-dancing gospel congregation is so ridiculous and hammy as to beggar belief.
Ultimately, it’s a shame that Brock couldn’t get a tighter handle on his material. If he had have done, the result would have been a fine piece of work; a cute and touching story about friends, parents and being middle class, with two great performances from his leading actors to boot. As it is, the performances are all that remain, and what is inoffensive and sincere enough to hold the attention is still fundamentally disappointing.