Viceroy's House (2017)

A not especially compelling historical drama, set at the time of India’s handover from Britain, and the partitioning of India and Pakistan. 

It tells that political story as well as the tale of a young couple separated along social and religious lines. 

Hugh Bonneville stars as the final Viceroy of India, Lord Dickie Mountbatten, and Gillian Anderson is excellent as his wife. 

Overall, the film disappoints. Somehow it fails to bring all of this to life. The script never sparkles and the overuse of archive footage (or at least mocked-up archive footage) has the effect of distancing you from the action. Also, it’s never clear whether the British actors are being formal and stuffy on purpose or whether they simply don’t have particularly well-written parts.

The Monuments Men (2014)

A handful of military misfits go to Germany towards the end of World War II to locate and retrieve fine art stolen and hidden by the Nazis. (In reality, there were 300 such people working on this project, but the film doesn’t acknowledge that.)

George Clooney stars, writes and directs but unfortunately can’t decide if he’s making a comedy or a drama. It falls somewhere in the middle – neither very funny nor very exciting, with too much rather stilted sitting around. The all-star cast seems underused, with Matt Damon, Bill Murray and the dreaded John Goodman in underdeveloped roles and not really getting a chance to shine. Only Cate Blanchett (a sympathetic curator with an inconsistent French accent) comes out of it unscathed. 

The tone is all over the place. The film flits between trying to make serious points at certain times and seeming like Dad’s Army at others, with “jaunty” music that’s especially jarring. Even the central message – art is so important that it might be worth dying for – is watered down by the way it’s something we’re repeatedly told rather than meaningfully shown. 

The final scene – a modern-day glimpse of Clooney’s Lieutenant as an elderly man appreciating Michelangelo in a gallery with his grandson – is particularly awkward and naff.

Iris (2001)

A biopic of Iris Murdoch, a love story and a study of the great writer’s decline into Alzheimer’s, this is a gripping and sad drama.

Adapted from John Bayley’s book about his dying wife, Iris: A Memoir of Iris Murdoch (1998), it cleverly flits between young Iris (Kate Winslet) and old Iris (Judi Dench) in order to show you the strength of talent and personality being eroded by the disease. The two eras dovetail perfectly, often connected by visual signifiers (such as the couple swimming “then” and “now”) that make them flow together seamlessly.

Jim Broadbent plays Bayley as a bumbling figure who remains deeply in love with the brilliant, unconventional woman he met in Oxford. My only criticism of the film is that this almost comically awkward characterisation gives little sense that he also had a remarkable intellect of his own.

Winslet and Dench are both highly convincing as the celebrated writer – painfully so in the case of the latter. It’s almost unbearable to watch her “sailing into darkness”, as she puts it, as she slowly but steadily forgets everything she ever knew and even who she is.

I also found it deeply uncomfortable to see the appalling mess in the couple’s home. They were truly living in squalor with no outside support.

Penelope Wilton (of Ever Decreasing Circles fame) is excellent as Iris’s friend Janet Stone.