Brits are usually known for authentic period pieces. But apparently nobody is perfect. This silly little movie doesn't make any sense whatsoever. We are supposed to believe that the young hopeful actress has the allure and talent, which she sadly does not possess. We are asked to buy the romantic package , which is as romantic as a garbage disposal. And to add insult to injury, this is one of the rare British movies with poor acting. Nobody stands out, not even the tragically miscast stars Huston, Stamp and Bacall. This fluffy powder puff of a movie is an utter waste of time.Its not funny or amusing or touching. It is big nothing.

Compelled as I am to write my thoughts on this movie that I saw last evening, I'm also in a parallel state of being almost speechless. I sat there, in awe, as unbelievable scene-after-scene kept staggering me, rendering me almost punch drunk, as if I had been running a marathon at 32000 feet above sea level. I ask myself, as I do from time to time when I see cliché-saturated stories like this: how in the world do these treatments/screenplays get sold to the folks who put up the money? Why do experienced actors like Stamp, Huston and Bacall appear in crapola like this? (Perhaps they are beset by not having the offers being made like earlier years and are desperate for work......understandable, actually.)Tedious. Banal. Obvious. Badly acted. Improbable. What a waste of time and money!

Not the best film in the world but a good effort by upcoming director Taylor-Stanley. I'm giving it seven because it wasn't dreadful and because the film score was fantastic.Some of the acting is stronger in some places; some is weaker - I wasn't overwhelmed by the performance of the leading role of Diana, but supporting roles were good: Andy Lincoln did a great piece as Lovell, and Terence Stamp was wonderful as Baker. There were one or two small anachronisms, but mostly what you'd consider "anorak" things; for instance there is one point in the office of a theatrical agent where he fakes a telephone call, and the wire connecting the hand-held part of the Telephone is curly whereas in the 30s it should have been straight. There was also the use of the phrase 'Jesus H Christ' which was an anachronism, but generally a good film. The film score was wonderful, Mr Lynn is a complete unknown but it appears that the risk Taylor-Stanley took by hiring him was worth it.As mentioned above, as a combination of the film's strong and weak points, I give it 7 out of 10.

... that sent me to the sick bag. The one burning question I would put to Julia Taylor-Stanley is how the hell do you get FINANCE for something this bad because if I couldn't produce at least half a dozen better scripts between now and, say, June I'll turn in my Writers ticket. For some reason either Taylor-Stanley herself or IMDb has seen fit to remove the other writing credit that appears on the film itself 'based on the novel "There's A Porpoise Close Behind Me" by Noel Langley. Langley was born in 1911 and has some fairly decent writing and directing credits; Taylor-Stanley doesn't reveal her age on IMDb but based on this movie I'd say she went on to solid foods and began walking about three weeks ago. Since she takes (at least on IMDb) sole writing credit she must, by extension, take sole blame. It's difficult to know where to begin - yes, it's that bad. It has the same not-quite-right sense of period that obtained in 'Mrs Henderson Presents' but without the gravitas of Judi Dench to compensate. Taylor-Stanley seems to have prepared both herself and the young members of the cast to recreate the 'feel' of the thirties by reading vintage Noel Coward plays or getting the BFI to screen some of those unwatchable Ivor Novello films from the late twenties/early thirties. It's not really enough to deck everyone out in 'period' frocks and punctuate the risible dialogue with a selection of 'silly' vintage records, you need total immersion - and it CAN be done, make no mistake; on the same day I saw this I saw Les Ames Grises which is set in 1916 and is TOTALLY convincing - but Taylor-Stanley and her cast need total immersion in the local swimming baths til they cry Uncle. A second question I would put to Taylor-Stanley is who or what was her target audience. I myself have a certain affection for the Brief Encounters, Quiet Weddings, Fallen Idols and Dear Octopi of this world and went along prepared to embrace this but alas it lacks completely the charm, warmth and artistry of the above and I wonder if Terence Stamp himself knew exactly what kind of Renaissance Boy he was supposed to be playing. Put this in the bin marked 'Revolver'.