A very entertaining, and occasionally touching, film written by Alan Bennett, a British National Treasure - though I'm sure he must be irritated, if not sickened, by being so described. His unique voice is instantly recognisable: self-knowing, self-mocking, never ever self-regarding. In spite of a string of stage and screen successes, he is essentially a man of letters: there is a literary quality about his work, and a good deal of his humour emerges from the contrast between the elegance of his sentences and the earthy, realistic observations they contain.
Bennett adapted his memoir about Miss Shepherd, whose residence is the eponymous vehicle (one of a series of vehicles, as it turns out) that occupies his driveway for fifteen years, for the stage, which brought director Nicholas Hytner and actors Maggie Smith and Alex Jennings on to the project. All three return for this film version, and an excellent job they make of it.
Bennett slyly juggles a number of subplots without you ever really being aware that is what they are. When they are finally identified and tied up in a package, it feels a little too neat and tidy after all that sprawl - an interesting comparison is Charlie Kaufmann's bleaker vision of a writer's struggle with a piece of work, Synechdoche New York - but Bennett's droll dialogue, and his clear-sightedness over the way compassion intertwines with guilt, compensates for the sense of well-made screenplay that dominates the closing section of the film.
Highly recommended.
Bennett adapted his memoir about Miss Shepherd, whose residence is the eponymous vehicle (one of a series of vehicles, as it turns out) that occupies his driveway for fifteen years, for the stage, which brought director Nicholas Hytner and actors Maggie Smith and Alex Jennings on to the project. All three return for this film version, and an excellent job they make of it.
Bennett slyly juggles a number of subplots without you ever really being aware that is what they are. When they are finally identified and tied up in a package, it feels a little too neat and tidy after all that sprawl - an interesting comparison is Charlie Kaufmann's bleaker vision of a writer's struggle with a piece of work, Synechdoche New York - but Bennett's droll dialogue, and his clear-sightedness over the way compassion intertwines with guilt, compensates for the sense of well-made screenplay that dominates the closing section of the film.
Highly recommended.