The new film, not the place. It’s a sweet love story that kicks off in 1950s Ireland and stars Saoirse Ronan (the frizzy-haired one from Atonement). Read Deborah Ross’s review from the Spectator HERE because it’s typically brilliant and says everything you need to know.
Suffice to say, I cried within the first five minutes, and then at five minute intervals after that throughout the entire thing. The only time I wasn’t weeping was when I was lolling quite loudly (NB. never sit near me in the cinema) at Julie Walters, who is excellent as a knowing boarding house landlady.
It’s also v. refreshing to see women in films who look like actual women, with hips and slightly crap hair and upper arms instead of Twiglets.
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