Living Free (1972)

2010 #111
Jack Couffer | 88 mins | TV | U / G

Living Free is, in many ways, a tale of obsession. I’m certain that wasn’t Joy Adamson’s intention in writing the book, and I don’t think it’s the filmmakers’ intention either, but the facts can still play that way. The Adamsons devote months of their time, give up a promising career, spend all their savings, drive themselves into debt, and are nearly killed several times, all in a frequently-extreme effort to save three delinquent lion cubs who would be put down were it not for their sentimental attachment.

Picking up immediately where Born Free left off — with literally the same shot, in fact — Living Free proceeds to recap the first film, inserting new actors Susan Hampshire and Nigel Davenport into footage from the predecessor. Watched 24 hours after the original, this feels like so much padding, but viewed in isolation — or six years later, as this was first released — it’s probably a useful primer. It also allows a chance to recap some of Born Free’s finer wildlife moments, including the cubs wrecking the house and the marvellous head-butting warthog. I love the head-butting warthog.

The rest of the story moves into What Happened Next territory: Elsa dies, the Adamsons’ obsession with finding and saving her cubs begins. The film skips the book Living Free, adapting threequel Forever Free instead, presumably for dramatic reasons — I imagine Elsa and cubs just living isn’t as much of a Story as her death and subsequent events.

Much of the film again plays like a documentary, particularly the sequences where Joy imagines what the cubs may have been up to during the weeks they were missing. Even after decades of excellent work by the BBC Natural History Unit, producing hundreds of hours of exceptional documentaries, the wildlife photography here is still often stunning. Stand-outs include one of the cubs playing with, and then being attacked by, a snake, or a slow-motion chase sequence which shows the beauty of both the lion and… whatever it’s chasing… (look, I’m no expert.) It may not have the same charm as the first film’s playful antics, but it’s by no means devoid of spectacle.

Living Free isn’t as endearing as Born Free. By the very nature of trying to keep the cubs wild, they’re less relatable than Elsa and consequently we become less attached to them. As you may’ve guessed, I found it more interesting to look on the film as a story of obsession, one that threatens to ruin the Adamsons’ lives, though ultimately it has an upbeat ending.

That said, nothing the film could have told (while sticking to the facts, that is) would rival the real-life tragedies that were to come: the Adamsons eventually grew apart, Joy was murdered by a former employee in 1980, and George was shot by bandits in 1989. It’s a sad end for a pair who, for all their faults, devoted their lives to doing good.

3 out of 5

Born Free (1966)

2010 #109
James Hill | 91 mins | TV | U / PG

Born Free tells the true story of Joy and George Adamson, a Senior Game Warden in 1950s Kenya, who adopted three lion cubs after mistakenly killing their mother. Though they give two away to a zoo, Joy can’t bear to part with one, Elsa, and so they raise her — until circumstances force them to part with her. Despite Elsa’s age, Joy insists they try to release her into the wild rather than send her to a zoo.

Though obviously scripted, acted and directed as a drama, the film nonetheless often plays like a documentary. Partly this is because it’s based on a true story, so (allowing for dramatic licence) we know it happened, emphasised by an occasionally episodic narrative and Joy’s voiceover narration; and partly because the plentiful wildlife footage is real. The film benefits in this respect from being made in an era before animatronics or CGI could be used to have the animals do whatever the filmmakers wanted. It makes the storytelling that much more impressive and complements the ‘true story’ angle.

I don’t know how trained the lions used were, but all their actions come across as entirely naturalistic, be it playing early on or attempting to fit into the wild later. It’s easy to see why this is a classic for animal lovers: the constantly playful cubs are are delight, the affectionate older Elsa endearing, the attempts to release her ethologically engaging… Then there are the other animals, including elephants (always wonderful) and the Adamsons’ adorable pet… rodent… (look, I’m no expert.) Best of all is a head-butting warthog, who has instantly become my favourite film animal. The entire film was worth that sequence.

It might be kindest to say the script and acting are often “of their era”, the plummy British accents appropriate but also instantly dating. Not that it matters a jot, because the film isn’t really about the people, it’s about the animals they look after and peripherally how the humans’ lives impact on that care. Those that don’t give a monkeys about wildlife films may wish to subtract a star (or three); for everyone else, it’s delightful.

4 out of 5

Tomorrow, my thoughts on the sequel, Living Free.

Late Spring (1949)

aka Banshun

2010 #78
Yasujirō Ozu | 104 mins | TV (HD) | U

Late SpringThis is one of those films I always feel horrendously under-qualified to bother offering any kind of thought on. It’s the kind of film you suspect benefits most not just from repeated viewings and a desire to dig deep into its themes, but also a wider understanding of the director’s work and thematic concerns. This is only compounded in the case of Ozu by the fact I watched Tokyo Story a few years ago and didn’t get on with it in the slightest (but more on that whenever I get round to re-watching & reviewing it).

For all that, I don’t mean to say Late Spring requires the wish or will of a viewer to watch it multiple times, watch at least a selection of Ozu’s other films, and supplement that by reading a variety of articles and books; just that, when it comes to discussing a 60-year-old film that is the subject of numerous intelligent and well-informed articles and books, it seems there’s nothing for the first-time viewer to add. Which is always the case I suppose, so I offer my usual handful of thoughts of a modern first-time viewer.

In which case, what can I say? Well, any Ozu enthusiast who hasn’t been switched off by the last two paragraphs will be pleased to know I got on considerably better with this than Tokyo Story (which bolsters my belief that his most renowned work is indeed worth a second shot). One issue, I suspect, is that I knew nothing of Ozu before my first experience; having read up on him (if only a little), his idiosyncratic squared-off shots and straight-on close-ups feel less blatant and frequent here, and being aware of their deliberateness perhaps makes them less intrusive. That said, I remain unconvinced by it as a guiding notion — I’m sure there’s a reason beyond the proliferation of American cinema that the visual style we’re used to seeing in most film and TV is, well, the visual style we’re used to seeing.

Similarly, the film has an intentionally unhurried pace. Again, perhaps one (or, at least, I) needs to be prepared for this to engage with it. Perhaps I’ve just grown up a bit — despite the image some may have of film students as pretentious art-lovers, I was far from alone in my second-year-uni group in finding Tokyo Story intolerable (indeed, I never heard anyone bar the lecturer express a liking for it). This enduring impression renders elements like Late Spring’s consistently cheery, bouncy music a surprise when maybe it shouldn’t be — after all, it would seem to reflect Noriko’s ceaseless smiling, laughing and happy demeanor; which all serves to increase the emphasis on her anger and sullenness when the prospect of marriage and leaving her father seriously raises its head. (And I’m afraid that’s the closest to analysis you’ll find here.)

It would be a lie to say Late Spring came as some kind of personal revelation to the unimpeachable genius of Ozu; but, at least, I got on with it considerably better than I did Tokyo Story. I might even go so far as to say I enjoyed it. Wonders never cease.

4 out of 5

Late Spring is on Film4 and Film4 HD tomorrow, Thursday 11th, at 11am.

Hercules’ New Groove

Hercules and The Emperor’s New Groove are connected by two things: firstly, they’re among the first Disney films I didn’t see because I’d Grown Up; secondly, I’m not sure I’d’ve wanted to see them anyway because I always thought they looked rubbish.

In truth, I think the second factor was more powerful than the first, because I’ve always liked the Disneys I liked — I don’t actually remember a time when I felt I’d grown out of them, just a time when I didn’t watch them.

Finally seeing this pair now, I find that my expectations were surprisingly flouted in one case, and sadly vindicated in another. But you’ll have to read on to see which is which…

2010 #99
Hercules

“It suffers from songs that are at best unmemorable and at worst irritating. The gospel-styled Greek Chorus sing dreadful dialogue, while Hercule’s big song is like a wimpy first draft of Mulan’s… [The] love interest gets a passable song, not that I can remember it now… [but] it looks great in HD.” Read more…

2010 #102
The Emperor’s New Groove

“There are some good bits like the sequence at the diner, or a lot of Kronk’s stuff… The villains are a delight. It’s hard to hate them when they’re somewhat wronged and more pleasant to spend time with than the hero… [and it] again looked nice and crisp in HD.” Read more…


When I said “you’ll have to read on to see”, I meant the full reviews. These quotes may be (deliberately) misleading…

Hercules (1997)

2010 #99
Ron Clements & John Musker | 89 mins | TV (HD) | U / G

Hercules is the first post-me Disney; the point where, for whatever reason, I stopped watching their output. But, of course, Disneys — good Disneys, at any rate — are suited to every age group.

To not do myself too much of a disservice, I remember at the time being very unimpressed with how Hercules looked in trailers. I felt the animation looked far too Modern — all those sharp lines and chunky styles — ugh. Now, in the wake of so many computer-based animated efforts (be it 3D or Flash-based), it looks positively hand-drawn and traditional. And it looks great in HD.

Directors Clements and Musker also helmed Basil the Great Mouse Detective, The Little Mermaid, Aladdin, Treasure Planet and The Princess and the Frog — an extraordinary run with few duds (says he who hasn’t seen the last two, I hasten to point out), which is unmatched in at least the modern Disney era (unless you start counting Pixar). Hercules isn’t their best effort, but it stands up pretty well.

Firstly, there’s a good cast: Rip Torn’s Zeus is fun, Danny DeVito’s hero-trainer Phil a decent version of a Disney archetype, James Woods’ Hades a solid villain. Even the villain’s comedy sidekicks, who by all rights should be intensely irritating, are entertaining. Pegasus, meanwhile, is worthy of Disney’s long tradition of animal-sidekicks-with-no-dialogue-who-can-still-convey-their-thoughts-and-feelings-perfectly (I feel this tradition needs a snappier name.) Love interest Meg, meanwhile, starts out intensely irritating but is gradually redeemed. Good work, I say to the film’s twenty credited writers.

In spite of that — and, indeed, in spite of what one might expect — the tale is told with surprising faithfulness. There’s still a healthy dose of anachronistic content to liven up the humour though. In fact, the sequences with Hercules’ adoring fans and merchandising empire ring even more true in this Twilight-obsessed world than they did 13 years ago. It’s one of the scarier Disneys, I think — not because it brings Twilight to mind (though I appreciate that’s enough to send a shiver down anyone’s spine), but because of all the giant monsters and Hell-ish stuff. But maybe I’m just being over-sensitive.

Where the quality falls down slightly is the music. It suffers from songs that are at best unmemorable and at worst irritating. The gospel-styled Greek Chorus grew on me, but started out singing dreadful dialogue — I know songs don’t have to rhyme, but really, theirs should have — while Hercule’s big song is like a wimpy first draft of Mulan’s I’ll Make a Man Out of You (though even mentioning it in the same sentence as that number makes it sound better than it is). Only love interest Meg gets a passable song, not that I could remember it within hours of watching the film. Maybe it’s not all that bad really, but when early-’90s Disneys could produce several unforgettable tunes per film, it feels like a weak album from a band you usually enjoy.

Hercules isn’t up there with Disney’s best late ’80s/early ’90s output. I’m certain this isn’t just nostalgia talking — it’s not just my childhood memories that make the likes of Aladdin, The Lion King or Beauty and the Beast superior — but it was better than I expected and, though flawed, has a lot to commend it too.

4 out of 5

The Emperor’s New Groove (2000)

2010 #102
Mark Dindal | 75 mins | TV (HD) | U / G

Disney’s 40th (canonical) animated film had a very troubled production, which, from what I can tell, turned it from a derivative riff on The Prince and the Pauper into this load of tosh.

The ‘hero’ — the titular emperor, Kuzco — is thoroughly irritating, and we have to suffer him in voiceover narration as well as on screen. OK, the film’s aware he’s irritating, that’s the point, and he has a Journey that leads him to become Good and Nice and all that moral palaver; but so does, say, the Beast, but that film doesn’t try to force him on us as the central identifiable character. New Groove has a Belle-equivalent pre-installed — moral family-man villager Pacha, the ‘buddy’ in this ‘buddy movie’ — and perhaps if the story had followed him it would have more success in the likability stakes.

The villains, by comparison, are a delight. The problem is, while we ‘love to hate’ the likes of Scar or Gaston, here we just ‘like’ scientific ex-advisor Yzma and her nice-but-dim henchman Kronk. It’s hard to hate them when they’re somewhat wronged and more pleasant to spend time with than the supposed hero. It’s not that I wanted them to succeed in killing Kuzco, more that I didn’t care whether they did or not.

There’s one song, and it’s not particularly good. Not that a Disney film has to be a musical but, well, most are, and it’s not as if the rest of the film is strong enough to support their absence. Much like Hercules, I’d always perceived this to have a nasty squared-off animation style. In reality it doesn’t suffer from that too much, and again looked nice and crisp in HD. I usually ignore image quality when it comes to reviews — not that I don’t care, but in these reviews I’m aiming to look at the content of the film rather than the particular copy I watched — but HD has such noticeable benefits for animation (when done well).

There are some good bits tucked away — like the sequence at the diner, or a lot of Kronk’s stuff (it’s easy to see why he was chosen to lead the straight-to-DVD sequel), or a good chunk of the climax — but there’s not enough to make up for the rest.

Somehow, it holds a decent score on both viewer-rated IMDb and critic-rated Rotten Tomatoes. This surprised me for two reasons: one, I thought it had gone down badly; and two, it deserved to go down badly. No pleasant surprises here — The Emperor’s New Groove is as weak and irritating as the title.

2 out of 5

The Emperor’s New Groove featured on my list of The Five Worst Films I Saw in 2010, which can be read in full here.

Witchfinder General (1968)

aka The Conqueror Worm

2010 #104
Michael Reeves | 83 mins | TV | 18

Notorious for having numerous cuts forced upon it by censors, over 40 years after its initial release Witchfinder General — now uncut — seems almost tame. But gore and sadistic violence certainly aren’t the main attractions — there’s a lot more to the film than that.

Though I’m sure it was quite horrific in its day, there’s nothing here to rival the gore or gruesomeness of today’s horror movies; or, indeed, of horror movies being produced in other countries around the same period. Not that I’m advocating censorship, but one advantage to the previous cutting of the film is that it’s been restored from vastly inferior sources (it looks about VHS quality to me), making it possible to note what the censors felt needed removing. It’s interesting that, with only one brief exception, all the cuts are of violence to women, while similar violence towards men remains intact. Very moral.

(There are two ‘complete’ versions available now, often labelled the Director’s Cut and the Export Cut. As usual, Movie-Censorship.com has more details, but there seems to be no difference in violence (despite what IMDb may claim) — the latter merely uses some alternate takes, shot against Reeves’ wishes, featuring needlessly topless wenches. This is the cut shown by the BBC.)

If the violence isn’t disgustingly gory, what’s truly horrific is how real it is. I have no idea if the torture and execution methods are historically accurate (the lead characters were real people but the plot is far from historically accurate), but the opening hanging is nasty due to the woman’s distress, the later burning tortuous because we know that, at some point in history, for whatever reason, this kind of death penalty was dolled out… If it’s horrific or scary it’s down to the threat of violence, or the cynical sadism with which people are tortured, rather than gory special effects (indeed, the blood on display is marvellously fake) or supernatural goings-on (of which there are resolutely none).

In fact, if we’re discussing genre, it’s more like an historical action-adventure, with soldiers dashing around the countryside, horseback chases, bar brawls, ambushes, and the occasional sword fight. If you changed the villain from a witchhunter who tortures and murders in Very Nasty Ways for money, to a dastardly chap who just stabbed people for money, the film would still function and the controversy would instantly evaporate. I’m not saying they should have, because that’s not the point; just that, in structure and (in many places) tone, Witchfinder General is more action-adventure than horror.

Tom Baker (not that one) and director Reeves’ screenplay (adapted from Ronald Bassett’s novel and nothing to do with the inspiration for its US title, Edgar Allan Poe’s poem The Conqueror Worm) adds a surprising amount of depth for either genre. It largely eschews the politics of the era — both the good and bad characters are on the side of Cromwell, the civil war only cropping up to provide period detail or motivation for characters’ movements — instead developing character and thematic interest.

Take hero Richard Marshall’s relationship with his beloved Sara’s guardian uncle, John Lowes. Lowes dislikes both Richard’s cause and his prospects, but is prepared to condone their marriage so Sara can escape the witchfinder’s path. Or the myriad minor characters who are well prepared to do as they’re told, or report people as witches just to get rid of them, often in silent agreement with the witchfinder and/or magistrate that everyone knows these people aren’t guilty of any real crime, but are still prepared to say or do whatever because someone wants rid of them. Thematically, one can read points about the corruption power can bring, in particular abuse of political situations.

Best of all is the witchfinder himself, excellently portrayed by horror stalwart Vincent Price. Indeed, all the credit may lay with him, because it’s his line deliveries and uncertain looks that make the character conflicted early on, a man who may believe he is genuinely doing good for Christian values, but is seduced down darker paths by money, power, lust, and the prospect of revenge. When he allows himself to be lured to Sara’s bedroom as payment for leniency on her uncle, we’re uncertain if he’ll take what’s intended or use her loose ways as proof of witchery. That it’s the former quickly indicates how seriously he takes his espoused Christianity.

In the rest of the cast, Ian Ogilvy makes for a suitably dashing, morally centred hero as Richard, while Robert Russell is equally suited to the part of brutish, loutish, but insightful torturer Stearne.

The picture is nicely shot, with a suitable realism to the locations. Though one of the most horrific things about the whole movie is some of the most dire day-for-night footage I’ve ever seen — it seems to consist of leaving the sky rather bright while everything else is darkened to near-silhouette levels of blackness. It’s even less convincing than that fake blood. I enjoyed the score too. A completely new one was written for the US release, but I presume this was the original because it was slightly calmer and more haunting than one might expect from an action-adventure-horror movie (which I presume was the reasoning for the replacement).

Despite the controversy, Witchfinder General will no longer please the gore-seeking brigade of certain horror fans — no bad thing. While it’s undeniably sadistic in places, it’s appropriate for the dark, realistic theme of the story. It may not be factually accurate, but it conveys well the sense of a dangerous, violent, morally bankrupt era. Its place as a British horror classic is well earnt.

4 out of 5

Witchfinder General is on BBC Four tonight at 10:10pm.
Witchfinder General is on BBC Two tonight, Friday 31st October 2014, at 12:05am.

The Band Wagon (1953)

2010 #91
Vincente Minnelli | 108 mins | TV (HD) | U

The Band WagonIn this behind-the-scenes musical, Fred Astaire plays Tony Hunter, a slightly washed-up star of stage and screen. One can’t help but wonder if his performance has an autobiographical edge. It’s of no concern to the viewer though, because he’s as wonderful as ever.

The plot sees respected musical writers the Martons (Nanette Fabray and Oscar Levant) penning a new production for Hunter to star in. They hire famed Theatre director Jeffrey Cordova (Jack Buchanan), who slowly turns the production into a rather serious version of Faust, starring ballet star Gabrielle Gerard (Cyd Charisse). She doesn’t get on with Hunter (thanks, of course, to a series of silly misunderstandings), while his role is slowly squeezed away. No one is happy. On the bright side, hilarity ensues. Everything turns out OK in the end, naturally, but along the way we get plenty of comedy and plenty of song & dance.

There are several great numbers: Astaire dancing his way around an amusement arcade; That’s Entertainment, written for the film and easily demonstrating why it quickly became a standard; a bizarre number with Astaire, Fabray and Buchanan dressed up as babies, dancing around on their knees (memorable, if nothing else); and a big closing dance routine… that I actually liked! It’s a hard-boiled crime thriller told through the medium of dance (obviously; plus voiceover). It’s different to the norm — the voiceover adds a discernible story, and rather than showcase ballet it reinterprets noir-ish tropes — and it works marvellously.

Minnelli shoots the dances in wide shots with long takes, using few if any cuts mid-sequence, which is of course the perfect way to watch Astaire in action. Every frame shows everything he’s doing, which is frequently essential, and there are no cuts to spoil his natural rhythm or shatter the illusion of a seamless routine.

I always feel like a four-star review should justify why there’s no fifth star — there must be something at fault, otherwise why not full marks? Perhaps this is a simplistic philosophy though, because I’ve not got a bad word to say about The Band Wagon, but it’s still:

4 out of 5

Gigi (1958)

2010 #95
Vincente Minnelli | 111 mins | TV (HD) | PG / G

GigiGigi is a film about largely horrid people doing morally dubious things. But of course it’s a musical from the ’50s, so it all has a veneer of loveliness and respectability.

It begins with an elder gentleman singing Thank Heaven for Little Girls; not because, say, they bring a youthful joy to old age, but because they’re a constant source of new young ladies for him to have affairs with — and not chaste, romantic affairs either. Actor Maurice Chevalier may have a twinkle in his eye and a conspiratorial tone with the audience, speaking directly to camera, but he’s playing a dirty old man really. Most of the film’s characters share his moral compass.

There are two exceptions, more or less. Gigi herself (Leslie Caron) is one, an innocent teen who isn’t as wise as her years, despite her grandmother (Hermione Gingold) and great aunt (Isabel Jeans) schooling her in preparation to be, essentially, a serial mistress. If one were to be unkind, you might say courtesan — the majority of women in the film are or were in the business of going out with men for money, status, etc; one man at a time (mostly), but on a serial basis. Gigi isn’t a simpering romantic, though, she just wants to have fun, and in her delightfully clumsy way can’t cope with her great aunt’s rules and restrictions.

The other decent character is Gaston (Louis Jourdan), although it takes him some time to get there. He’s super-rich, bored with everything, egged on and tutored in ‘relationships’ by the aforementioned dirty old man. Gaston would rather spend his time playing cards or larking about with Gigi; they may be related, I’m not sure. I hope not, because (spoilers!) Dirty old man with woodeventually Gaston realises he loves Gigi and her training is stepped up so she can become his latest conquest. I won’t go into the details of the ending, but their part of the story ends well.

It doesn’t for the others. Not that it ends badly, but no one else changes their ways, despite the occasional hint they might. This is probably a good thing — it wouldn’t be particularly realistic if everyone reformed to the ways of Goodness and Honour. And there’s nothing wrong with a musical that tackles subjects outside the expected soppy romanticism — in fairness, many stage musicals are more risque, in part if not whole, but it gets removed for the film versions — and Gigi seems no exception, because while many of these activities and attitudes are quite amoral, it’s all given a lovely sheen. I’d excuse anyone who thought Gigi and Gaston were engaged when she agrees to be his whore (in fact — spoilers! — it’s only later he sees the error of his ways and proposes).

Part of the tonal clash — between the characters’ behaviour and the film’s ’50s niceness — comes in the musical numbers, most of which are very funny. Thank Heaven for Little Girls may be sullied, but It’s a Bore, The Parisians, The Night They Invented Champagne, and particularly I Remember It Well, are all very enjoyable with wonderful lyrics. In the red roomI’m Glad I’m Not Young Anymore is also a nice change of pace, celebrating old age for a change.

The film also looks the part, exquisitely detailed sets and costumes supported by genuine Paris locations, all shot vibrantly. It leaps off the screen, especially in HD — in particular, the home of Gigi’s grandmother, which must be the reddest room ever seen.

Gigi scored a then-record-breaking nine Oscars in 1959 (only to be beaten the next year), including many I’m certain it deserved — partly because I’ve not even heard of most of the films it was up against, but also because it is an entertaining musical, just one with, I would say, uncertain morals. Whether this makes a welcome change for the genre or is an unpleasant undermining of it is surely down to each viewer’s preference.

4 out of 5

Brigadoon (1954)

2010 #93
Vincente Minnelli | 104 mins | TV (HD) | U / G

“Oh dear,” is surely the initial reaction to Brigadoon. The Scottish accents are appalling, the costumes and setting gratingly twee, the Highlands recreated entirely on a soundstage. I wonder if many Americans visited Scotland in the wake of this film expecting to find such things? If they did, I imagine they were sorely disappointed.

But, importantly — and thankfully — it does grow on you as it goes on. The ill-conceived cast, costumes and studio-bound setting begin to pale under the charm of Gene Kelly and the machinations of the plot. Even the Scottish accents, though consistently dreadful, eventually become less irritating. The casting of Kelly and Cyd Charisse resulted in several musical numbers being dropped and a greater emphasis placed on dance. As I think has become apparent in some previous reviews, I’m not the biggest dance fan, but luckily Brigadoon contains no extended sequence to rival those I dislike in An American in Paris or Oklahoma!. Instead, the routines remain at the kind of length where I can still afford them some appreciation, and they are worthy of that.

The reveal that Brigadoon is a village stuck in time, only emerging from the fog for a single day every hundred years, is saved for the halfway point. It’s one of those occasions where, as a modern viewer, you know the twist and almost wonder why it takes so long to be revealed; equally, it doesn’t hamper proceedings in any meaningful way. In fact, the shock when (spoiler!) the film suddenly cuts to a busy, noisy New York for the final ten minutes is a bigger one. There’s a neat conclusion though, working its way around the film’s self-established rules without destroying them.

If you go doon to the woods today...I think it’s fair to say this isn’t the greatest of musicals (though I know some might disagree). The poor realisation of Scotland takes some getting used to — and remains either irritating or amusing, depending on your mileage for such things — and generally there’s a dearth of particularly memorable songs or dances. But it’s not bad either, once things get underway.

My ultimate verdict is stuck somewhere between a 3 and a 4. I’ve erred on the generous side, again, because I liked it more than An American in Paris (which I also gave a 4) and I’m soft. I really need to stop giving every film I sort-of-quite-like a 4 though — a better scale/spread of ratings is needed on here, I feel.

4 out of 5