Their Finest
In London in 1940, Catrin Cole (Gemma Arteton) is hired by the Ministry of Information to ostensibly write women's dialogue in short information films in support of the war effort. She subsequently finds herself pursuing a story of two young women who stole their father's boat with a view to travelling to Dunkirk. Cole proposes that the story becomes the basis of a feature film, produced with the hope of convincing women and the Americans to involve themselves in the conflict.
Their Finest predominantly centres on the relationship between Cole and her co-writer Tom Buckley (Sam Claflin) and their sessions of writer's room badinage are a particular joy. Buckley gradually warms to Cole, in spite of his initially dismissive and patronising attitude, describing women's dialogue in pictures as "the slop". Arterton and Claflin provide strong, unflashy performances here.
The film's gender politics are subtlely played, whilst the devastating effects of air raids in the capital demonstrate the extent to which Londoners were required to "keep calm and carry on" in the truest, non-bastardised sense of the term. It's always a pleasure to see Bill Nighy and he provides the film's entire quotient of laughs as the pompous washed up actor Ambrose Hilliard, a man struggling to come to terms with the fact his days as a leading man are behind him. He has a lofty view of his art and his abilities, his pomposity pricked beautifully by his new agent Sophie (Helen McCrory). Towards the end of the film, he delivers a ludicrously grandiose statement that could have fallen horribly flat, but Nighy succeeds in imbuing it with genuine pathos and meaning. It's an achievement his character would be proud of.
It was in the final twenty minutes when Cole witnesses the fruits of her labour where it became clear the extent to which this charming, warm, moving film had caught me off guard.
Their Finest predominantly centres on the relationship between Cole and her co-writer Tom Buckley (Sam Claflin) and their sessions of writer's room badinage are a particular joy. Buckley gradually warms to Cole, in spite of his initially dismissive and patronising attitude, describing women's dialogue in pictures as "the slop". Arterton and Claflin provide strong, unflashy performances here.
The film's gender politics are subtlely played, whilst the devastating effects of air raids in the capital demonstrate the extent to which Londoners were required to "keep calm and carry on" in the truest, non-bastardised sense of the term. It's always a pleasure to see Bill Nighy and he provides the film's entire quotient of laughs as the pompous washed up actor Ambrose Hilliard, a man struggling to come to terms with the fact his days as a leading man are behind him. He has a lofty view of his art and his abilities, his pomposity pricked beautifully by his new agent Sophie (Helen McCrory). Towards the end of the film, he delivers a ludicrously grandiose statement that could have fallen horribly flat, but Nighy succeeds in imbuing it with genuine pathos and meaning. It's an achievement his character would be proud of.
It was in the final twenty minutes when Cole witnesses the fruits of her labour where it became clear the extent to which this charming, warm, moving film had caught me off guard.
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