Napoleon (2023)
Director: Ridley Scott
Screenwriter: David Scarpa
Starring: Joaquin Phoenix, Vanessa Kirby, Tahar Rahim, Rupert Everett, Paul Rhys

Almost a quarter of a century after his swords and sandals epic Gladiator became a critically acclaimed cultural phenomenon and Oscars Best Picture winner, Ridley Scott re-teams with one of its stars – one of this generation’s leading actors and a multi-time Academy Award nominee, Joaquin Phoenix – to revisit another of history’s most written about leaders, Napoleon Bonaparte of France. With more historically accurate locations and just as many period-appropriate costumes as in his turn of the century fable, this life and times of France’s great-then-disgraced general should be a lot more affecting than it actually is. This bullet point journey through Bonaparte’s rise and fall from power doesn’t make powerful comment on the corruption of man, nor does it evaluate the emperor’s influence on war or peace, on Europe or France or the United Kingdom or Russia. In fact, it doesn’t say much at all…

It would be difficult to chronicle Napoleon’s story and fail to capture the imagination in one way or another. This is one of history’s most important figures, an emblem of power and greed. His various roles in post-revolution France took him across continents, saw him as the figurehead of coups, and brought about the deaths of more than one million people. His was a life filled with so many historically significant events, moments, and decisions, that anyone with so much as an Encyclopaedia Britannica could recount his story with at least some drama, shock and awe. The issue with this $200million film is that the script does little more than precisely that, recounting the significant moments of his leadership as if listing them out of a book, with a cheap and at times barely legible love angle tacked on to evoke empathy and provide commentary on the events that come fast and often with little context.

Joaquin Phoenix tries his best. He dominates every scene, embodying a character he clearly sees as more of a creature than a man. Under his spell, Napoleon Bonaparte is worthy of attention, a character whom we are desperate to investigate, to interrogate. But the film doesn’t allow for that. As we depart the beheading of Marie Antoinette in revolution-era France to first meet our subject, Phoenix is not unlike a lion with his jaw clenched, his eyes glazed, his uniform as extravagant and symbolic as a mane. There is so much promise held within this introduction – a potentially world-shifting performance, some spectacular wardrobe work, effective framing and blocking – and instead it sadly becomes emblematic of a film that leaves so much of its potential unfulfilled.

The bullet point journey through Napoleon’s conquests, political manoeuvres, and exiles, requires an emotional core for any potential audience to attach to, and it finds that in the would-be emperor’s marriage to his beloved Josephine. Vanessa Kirby embodies the infamous leader’s muse as if a witch who has cast a spell, and the Oscar-nominated performer’s turn is at times just as beguiling as Phoenix’s. Together, they never hit the highs of some of their other on-screen relationships (Phoenix in Her, Kirby in Pieces of a Woman), nor is their relationship as moving as that presented by Mel Gibson and Catherine McCormack in Braveheart, or as lustful as that presented by Omar Sharif and Julie Christie in Doctor Zhivago. There isn’t even a sense of dangerous plotting as underlined by the incestuous relationship hinted at between Phoenix and Connie Nielsen in Gladiator, which at least provoked a reaction. In Napoleon, Phoenix and Kirby are believably brought together, but they are far from enchanted by one another, and as time passes and events occur, you expect that to become part of the commentary on Napoleon’s lack of humanity, but it doesn’t. Napoleon instead frames this relationship as the beating heart of its subject, as the primary motivating factor, the biggest achievement, the biggest regret. And the film only takes brief moments to dissect this, or even present a valid argument as to how the relationship motivated the man to achieve otherworldly horrors. Theirs is a story that runs parallel to the story of Napoleon’s “achievements”, evolving from time to time but largely suffering from the same “this happens and then this happens and then this happens” that plagues the rest of the tale.

Beyond the limitations of David Scarpa’s screenplay, which was no doubt limited in its potential by the vast period of time it sought to cover (a period of more than 25 years), and the effects this has on Claire Simpson’s editing and pacing of the film, Napoleon does achieve a lot cinematically. First and foremost, the costume work is spectacular. David Crossman and Janty Yates’ work in costuming is nothing short of stellar, and a glimpse at the level of quality many expected a modern Ridley Scott historical epic to achieve. Everyone looks unique and period-appropriate, but the smaller details on the limited selection of main characters are worthy of the biggest screen possible and plenty of critical acclaim. Similarly, the production design by Arthur Max is a significant factor in bringing cinematic qualities to scenes that are otherwise inconsequential or at least far from unmissable. The party and governmental scenes are where the latter shines the brightest, some sequences decked out and presented as if the period’s great paintings.

Ridley Scott must be commended for his role in bringing this to life, too. Some shots are of the highest cinematic calibre, a master clearly touching on the greatness that has been foundational to his visually impressive career to date. His party scenes are filled with life, there are unique physical qualities to many of the major historical figures at play in the story, and he seems intent on ensuring that not a single battle is presented in as bland a fashion as many other director’s have long since settled. His work with cinematographer Dariusz Wolski in the capturing of cold, of fog, of early morning winter sunrises, imbues the piece with a sense of reality and ensures that nobody can be bored by the achievements held within each frame. Some sequences, such as the one in which Napoleon takes Moscow, are worthy even of a highlight reel that includes The Duellists, Alien, Blade Runner, Thelma & Louise and Gladiator.

As has often been the case in more recent Scott movies, there are also shots, scenes and sometimes even entire sequences that seem absent of his once unique and form-topping touch. Early on, it is easy to be removed from the reality of the time period courtesy of poor CGI, such as that showing Joaquin Phoenix riding a horse on a beach or large crowds resembling AI renditions more than actual people. The picture is also so awash with greys that it seems more like a mid-2000s early digital filmmaking release than even Scott’s own from that era. Some night time shots are utterly spectacular, and seem to be of the same school as those celebrated in Jordan Peele’s Nope, but there are vast periods in which everything looks washed out, and it is almost certain that minutes of this film will be barely legible (too dark) to anyone who eventually watches it at home.

Ridley Scott has spoken a lot in the press tour for Napoleon about how his movies do not need to be historically accurate. When a film seeks to explore something thematically, personally, or ideologically, then Scott is most certainly correct. Film is art, and art seeks truth rather than fact. Gladiator worked because of this perspective, because of how it abandoned fact in search of the truth held within the myth. But Napoleon doesn’t do that. It presents moment after moment from the history books, often inaccurately out of negligence as opposed to deeper purpose. There is no doubt that a lot of care and artistry can be seen on screen in Napoleon, but that negligence will be the story of this film: a movie that could have been great, that could have meant something, that could have simply been accurate, and ended up being none of those things. Like Napoleon himself, Napoleon thinks itself as greater than it is. It isn’t insulting like Ridley Scott’s idea of Napoleon firing canons into the Great Pyramid of Giza was to historians the world over, but it does offer only glimmers at its full might. Some individual pieces are greater than the whole in this instance, and what a shame that is. This should have been special.

Score: 15/24

Recommended for you: Ridley Scott Films Ranked

The Son (2022)
Director: Florian Zeller
Screenwriter: Christopher Hampton
Starring: Hugh Jackman, Laura Dern, Vanessa Kirby, Zen McGrath, Anthony Hopkins

Back in 2020, French novelist and playwright Florian Zeller debuted The Father, an English-language film adaptation of his Molière Award-winning theatre production, “Le Père”. The Father premiered to both critical acclaim and commercial success, winning an Academy Award for Best Adapted Screenplay for Zeller and co-writer Christopher Hampton, as well as notching Welsh thespian Anthony Hopkins his second Oscar for his performance in the titular role. The amorphous structure of The Father transported us directly into the mind of Hopkins’ dementia-suffering protagonist in what was an overwhelmingly tragic but emotionally gentle tale of sympathy, compassion, and despair.

Naturally, the Frenchman has taken a similar approach with his second feature, The Son – collaborating with Hampton once again, Zeller has turned to his own body of theatrical work and adapted another of his stage plays, this time “Le Fils”, for the big screen. You could be forgiven then, for hoping that Zeller’s follow up to The Father might reach those same stellar heights. In stark contrast, however, Zeller loses all intricacy in the direction of his second feature, instead turning to emotional manipulation in a bid to garner sympathy and communicate distress in his representation of adolescent depression and suicidality.

A few years on from his parents’ divorce, seventeen-year-old Nicholas (Zen McGrath) continues to struggle with feelings of abandonment and neglect. His father, Peter (Hugh Jackman), has traded in a life with Nicholas in favour of one with his second wife (Vanessa Kirby) and their new-born son. But when Nicholas’ mother Kate (Laura Dern) realises that he has been flunking school to spend his days wandering the streets of New York City, Nicholas decides that he can no longer live with her, instead favouring the idea of moving in with his father and baby brother. Unable to process the stresses of everyday life, it is hoped that a change of scenery will be enough to snap him out of his mental fatigue.

Peter happily obliges, initially excited by the prospect of his son coming to live with him, assured in his parental capabilities that he can help Nicholas to move on from the depressive phase that has been affecting him. But, with a new family to take care of, as well as a career which finally begins to reach new heights, the timing of Nicholas’ emotional breakdown clashes with Peter’s life aspirations. A series of increasingly worrying red flags are not enough to open Peter’s eyes to the despair that Nicholas is suffering from, and his cries for help continue to fall on deaf ears. As Nicholas spirals further and further into his depression, his parents do little but hope that he will snap out of his despondent state.

The Son resembles, in a thematic sense at least, Felix van Groeningen’s delicately devastating Beautiful Boy, itself a personal story of mental struggle, addiction, and hopelessness. Where they stand apart, however, is in the subtle sensitivities at the core of their tragedies. Through Beautiful Boy, van Groeningan was able to craft a touching and poignant depiction of the internal battles faced by someone unable to see past their own demons. It feels authentic and genuine, largely because it drew on David Sheff’s first-hand memoir, faithfully conveying the emotions of a father witnessing the demise of his own child, understanding and admitting to his role in the downfall. Yet, despite all the narrative similarities, it could not feel more alien to The Son, which tries so aggressively to draw a reaction throughout Nicholas’ psychological breakdown.

Hans Zimmer’s melancholy soundtrack is, perhaps, most guilty of this – while, at times, the German maestro delivers strikingly intricate orchestral pieces, there are other occasions when the score feels overbearing, almost like a desperate act of emotional exploitation, an in-your-face attempt to communicate Nicholas’ trauma. Even in his rare moments of mental respite (one particular hip-thrusting dance sequence springs to mind), Zeller determines to bring the scene back to Nicholas’ anguish in the bluntest of ways, overextending Zimmer’s intense music, all-the-while directing McGrath to pull blank, vacant expressions in an attempt to hammer home just how despondent he truly feels.

An impassioned Hugh Jackman does his level best with such a superficial script, which comes as no surprise considering the Australian actively campaigned for his role after being so moved by The Father. Vanessa Kirby also warrants a special mention, giving her all in spite of the limited screen time she is afforded. Unfortunately, little can be said for the rest of the cast – too often, Laura Dern feels as if she’s just going through the motions, while Anthony Hopkins’ bit-part cameo as Peter’s father only really serves as a heavy-handed reminder that Peter himself is the true centrepiece at the heart of The Son. It’s because of this that Zen McGrath is so restricted in his performance, unable to truly delve into Nicholas’ character, which acts only as a plot device to examine Peter’s character more deeply.

By the rather callous conclusion, you’re left to feel rather numb, but not in quite the way that Zeller intends. He was able to catch lightning in a bottle in his first foray into filmmaking, and it was certainly always going to prove difficult attempting to do so twice, but The Son feels like a complete misjudgement from a director who has previously proven his aptness for gracefully exploring such serious issues. The French director’s next project will be a television adaptation of Stefano Massini’s play “The Lehman Trilogy”, allowing Zeller an opportunity to move away from adapting his own work, while providing him with the chance to reconfigure any future approach to material as sensitive as childhood depression.

Score: 6/24

Written by Jake Gill

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Pieces of a Woman (2020)
Director: Kornél Mundruczó
Screenwriter: Kata Wéber
Starring: Vanessa Kirby, Ellen Burstyn, Shia LaBeouf, Iliza Shlesinger, Benny Safdie, Sarah Snook, Molly Parker

Grief is one of the few human experiences that manages to be both paradoxically singular and entirely universal. Anatomically speaking, loss compares to being wholly composed of your former self’s broken and shattered pieces, the empty spaces in between a dark and heavy matter unknown in the physical realm. Those of us already acquainted with it will recognise this hollow loneliness coursing through Kornél Mundruczó’s Pieces of a Woman like an old, half-forgotten friend. Mundruczó’s triumph here is not his attempt to deliver an exposé on the process of dealing with such an all-consuming emotion, but his ability to reach beyond the screen, uniting his audience in the shared recognition of life at its lowest ebb.

Pieces of a Woman opens with a man, Sean (Shia LeBeouf), a blue-collar worker, boorish by his own description, working construction on a new bridge which he swears his unborn daughter will be the first to cross. He meets his heavily pregnant partner, Martha (Vanessa Kirby), at a car lot, where, despite his protests, Martha’s Mother (Ellen Burstyn) is purchasing a car from her son-in-law (a wild Benny Safdie appears) for the soon to be nuclear family: ‘I can pay’ Sean says to deaf ears. He gifts Martha with a framed ultrasound; she hangs it in the baby’s ready and waiting room. All of this preamble to the birth, which Mum and Dad have decided will happen at home. 

During a twenty-four minute, extended one-shot real-time scene, we stay intrusively close to Martha and Sean as they attempt to welcome life into the world. It isn’t as simple as an average birth scene: lay back on the bed, legs apart, breathe, scream, push, done. Martha’s complications come in waves. The first, a terse phone call with their appointed midwife who can no longer attend the labour. ‘We’re flipping cards’ Sean says with faux calmness as he hangs up the phone: a replacement midwife will be with them shortly. Martha turns animal in seconds, belching with gusto and writhing in pain on the floor as new midwife Eva (Molly Parker) attempts to corral her into action. Further problems arise as we move through the exquisitely executed one-take scene: blood, the unborn baby’s irregular heartbeat, the rush to deliver as quickly as possible. Yet, rather than wow with camera trickery and movie magic, Mundruczó’s delicately choreographed scene works to allow us to create a bond with these characters. When the scene ends, and we move forward into their lives following their child’s death, we understand them better for having been there, for having lived through every second of the ordeal with them.

What comes next is raw agony muted by unprocessed grief, resentment, and a void as vast as the one existing between the two sides of Sean’s unfinished bridge. Prefaced by the date and a wide shot of the bridge, we watch as seasons change and time – in its refusal to wait for permission – move on. The dates seem random, no big holidays or birthdays, just average days, perhaps the hardest days in our characters’ lives following their tragedy. Fractions arise: how to spell a name, what to do with the body, or who, if anyone, is to blame? Nobody is sure what the next move should be, or what action might work to propel them forwards. Sean self-medicates with drugs and alcohol, ruining his seven-year sobriety. Martha’s mother, Elizabeth, urges legal action, bringing in cousin Suzanne (Sarah Snook) to take charge of a negligence case. In a compelling monologue, using her history of surviving the holocaust as motivation, she cruelly insists her dead-eyed daughter begin fighting for herself. Martha develops a fixation on apples, attempting to create life another way as she learns how to seed the pips; shell-shocked and exhausted, everything else is background noise to her.

The cast give it everything they have and then some. Kirby is an exposed nerve. As Martha, she is a woman condemned to go on living: despondent, reserved, mentally trapped in the land of the lost. Like Gena Rowlands in A Woman Under the Influence, she also manages to maintain a steady, distressing tension throughout; she’s like that soft, quiet calm preluding the untold devastation of a hurricane. An impossible to contain well of unbearable pain seeps out of her every movement, her every word. Often, in other such harrowing films, we see trauma in action. Here we see how it manifests, how it impacts. Mundruczó and Kirby work to create an honest reality, the likes of which we have only ever experienced before underneath fabricated movie melodrama. With a thick beard and heavy gait, LeBeouf is a device waiting to detonate. His familiar wild-eyed, uncomfortable intensity works to elevate Sean beyond the limitations of his character. Undeniably, LeBeouf has a distinctive way of making every character he steps into belong intrinsically to him. Yet some moments are too close for comfort: given the recent accusations made against him, an aggressive sex scene leaves a sour taste. Although his usual wheelhouse of skills works well here, the character never moves beyond Shia’s reliable scope. 

There’s a lovely eclectic mix of actors in the supporting roles. Where else could a Hollywood legend such as Ellen Burstyn (The Exorcist; Requiem for a Dream), a stand-up comic, Iliza Shlesinger, a ‘’Succession’’ star and a Safdie Brother come up against, and spar with, a Disney child-actor turned Blockbuster star and ‘’The Crown’s’ Princess Margaret? When Pieces of a Woman threatens to veer off – Sean’s inconsequential affair with cousin Suzanne, some slightly unbelievable courtroom drama – one of the diversely talented cast members manages to steer the story back on course. Kirby especially acts as an anchor on which the story depends.

Pieces of a Woman taps into the idiosyncrasies of womanhood, of loss, of motherhood. It acknowledges not only the effects of grief on those closest to the loss but on those further afield, also thrown off course by the agonising experiences of their loved ones; an agony they can do little to fix. Unflinching in its execution, the film is dark and often unbearable to watch. However, as a whole, it speaks to the process of healing, the process of returning to life after significant trauma. Its biggest gift is the hope it alludes to when it suggests there is an opportunity, for all who have lost, to hopefully put those shattered pieces of themselves back together again.

20/24

Mission: Impossible – Fallout (2018)
Director: Christopher McQuarrie
Screenwriter: Christopher McQuarrie
Starring: Tom Cruise, Henry Cavill, Rebecca Ferguson, Sean Harris, Simon Pegg, Ving Rhames, Angela Bassett, Vanessa Kirby, Michelle Monaghan

The regular music plays. The most famous action star on planet Earth looks ponderously into the middle distance. An explosive opener is closely followed by the introduction of the mystery that is to come. The mission, should you choose to accept it: another top notch action film from the Mission: Impossible franchise. Tom Cruise has still got it…

The 6th instalment in the insanely popular spy-action Mission: Impossible franchise promised a culmination of all that had come before it, and in Fallout this has well and truly been delivered. An action film with little comparison by the way of creative action set pieces that is on the level of the Russo Brothers’ Marvel movies in terms of brutality portrayed through stunt fighting, Mission: Impossible – Fallout’s biggest surprise is that its screenplay not only lived up to the exciting, twist-laden standards of its predecessors, but it also managed to gift many of the franchise’s central characters story arcs worthy of their importance to the audience, all the while making room for thrilling chase after thrilling chase, new ideas after re-purposed old ideas, and a whole heap of edge-of-your-seat fun.

As always, the action is driven forward by the insanely brave and arguably dangerously extreme Tom Cruise whose persisting efforts to pull off as many of his own stunts as possible way into his 50s continues to gift the franchise a unique authenticity not equalled in the genre despite the franchise’s outrageous concepts. According to reports, Cruise not only broke an ankle jumping between buildings as a part of a roof top chase sequence, but he also learned how to fly a Helicopter in order to ensure said authenticity; an example of his dedication and passion for his character that truly brings home the Gold for this persisting mega-franchise.

Interestingly, Fallout does follow the same trajectory away from Cruise that McQuarrie’s predecessor Rogue Nation (2015) did, with side characters being given more important roles as the universe of characters expands beyond Hunt’s group and the villains he’s chasing into a landscape of altogether more involved characters, each of whom have their own motivations and therefore a reason to be questioned as a part of the movie’s more mysterious elements. This shift, which like Rogue Nation helps to elevate Rebecca Ferguson’s Ilsa the most – making her arguably the franchise’s 2nd most interesting character behind Hunt himself – is a welcomed distraction from the plight of Cruise’s character, the story of which is far from finished but needs to be shelved from time to time in order to keep interest high in both he and the story as a whole. It’s clever writing matched with effective direction and exceptional editing that brings this to the fore and ultimately elevates McQuarrie’s MI movies to the upper echelon of the franchise’s overall output.

Most people visit a Mission: Impossible movie for the action however, and in Fallout there is certainly no shortage. The MI franchise has seemed to have taken the responsibility of “never before seen” action sequences upon itself in the absence of original, awe-inspiring work in much of the rest of the genre, and it simply never lets up. In Ghost Protocol we were treated to Cruise hanging from the Burj Khalifa in never-before-seen scenes, in Rogue Nation we saw him hanging from an airplane as it took off, and in Fallout we see him jumping from rooftop to rooftop of the London skyline, driving trucks and motorbikes at break-neck speeds past iconic Parisian landmarks and we even see him hang from a cliff edge… again! It’s insane, but you can’t look away. Every instalment of this franchise continues to inspire awe at its stunt work, organisation, creativity and technical achievements and Fallout is the latest in the line.

So see this film if you’re a fan of the franchise or want a few hours of pulsating escapism – you’re guaranteed to get all you’ll ever want from an action movie and you’ll see things you’ve never seen before. Mission: Impossible – Fallout is hardly your high-brow awards season movie and it does run a little bit long in places, but as far as action goes, Fallout has it all.

17/24

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Idris Elba photographed in promotional material for BBC series ‘Luther’

The Universal project will place the focus of the Fast franchise’s next instalment on the characters played by Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson and Jason Statham in the central movies and it is thought that Elba will play the film’s key antagonist.

The British actor is the 2nd name to join the cast this week following news of ‘The Crown’ actress Vanessa Kirby joining Johnson and Statham on the project.

Deadpool 2 director David Leitch is directing the spin-off which has been written by veteran Fast & Furious franchise screenwriter Chris Morgan. Dwayne Johnson, Dany Garcia and Hiram Garcia will produce the project on behalf of Seven Bucks Productions, alongside Neal H. Moritz (Original Films) and Johnson’s co-star Jason Statham. Kelly McCormick, Steven Chasman, Amanda Lewis, Ainsley Davies and Ethan Smith will act as executive producers.

Hobbs and Shaw is due for release on 26th July 2019.

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Queen and Country (2014)
Plot: The young Bill Rohan finds himself unwillingly in the basic camp training for troops to be sent to the front to fight during the Korean war. The film is a follow-up to Boorman’s Hope and Glory (1987) set during WW2.
Director: John Boorman
Cast: Callum Turner, Vanessa Kirby, David Thewlis, Richard E. Grant, Caleb Landry Jones, Tamsin Egerton, Sinéad Cusack, David Hayman, Brian F. O’Byrne, Patt Shortt, John Standing.

The film starts with Bill Rohan (Callum Turner) being conscripted for military service during the Korean War, which lasted from 1950 to 1953. The story focuses mainly on Bill and his best friend Percy Hapgood (Caleb Landry Jones) with whom he does his basic training. The two get very close and they will eventually help one another, with Bill coming to help Percy in important ways several times. Their friendship is then put to the test by the events at the camp and the two find themselves dealing with despotic and arrogant superiors like Sergeant Major Bradley (David Thewlis), Major Cross (Richard E. Grant) and, most importantly, RSM Digby (Brian F. O’Byrne). Bill and Percy try to survive the camp while managing to find love: Percy with Sophie (Aimee-Ffion Edwards) and Bill with the troubled Ophelia (Tamsin Egerton).

Bill seems a young pacifist who isn’t really interested in war and sees his recruitment period as a duty. He’s called to be the teacher of the new recruits who will have to join the UK Army in Korea soon, but he’s not much convinced by the rhetoric of war and he clearly doesn’t want to fight. Unfortunately, Callum Turner was not impressive in this role; I simply did not feel passion or commitment from him. On the other hand, I enjoyed Caleb Landry Jones’s performance as Percy and Tamsin Egerton’s performance as Ophelia. They are both very talented actors and they each conveyed their characters’ feelings brilliantly. The rest of the cast was also impressive.

Generally, there were some other faults in this film; especially the way the relationships between Ophelia and Bill, and Sophie and Percy, were portrayed. They simply weren’t developed well enough. It’s quite obvious that both are impossible relationships – I can’t tell you why, or I would reveal too much of the plot – but Ophelia’s motives are so unjustified and it seems as if she doesn’t really care about Bill. The same goes for Percy and Sophie – it’s a one-sided relationship. Their stories seemed a bit forced to me.

Another fault is the development of the story. It could have been handled differently. At the end of the film you are left with so many loose-ends, that you keep wondering what happens to the characters. You get a glimpse of what happens to Bill but the fate of the others is completely left out. It would have been interesting to know more about Ophelia, for example. It seems so strange that her story doesn’t have a proper ending since Bill spends most of his time out of the training camp with her, making her a central part of the film’s plot. My only assumption as to why the director would not focus on these things is because he must have wanted to focus on other aspects of the characters’ lives, mostly on the military setting. Boorman was very accurate in showing how stressful life was for young soldiers, all the pressures they had to overcome and, most importantly, the superior’s arrogant and haughty attitude towards these young men.

All in all, despite its faults, I wouldn’t say the film was bad – it wasn’t exceptional but still an enjoyable drama that I would recommend for the interesting range in performances and the commentary the film offers on military service/conscription. So, perhaps give it a try if you love period dramas and especially those set during times of war.

15/24