Chances are Ladies in Lavender will remind you of that sweetly played Michael Radford film from the mid-90s entitled The Postman; later known only as "Il Postino", in its original language, at the expense of a later Kevin Costner film of the same name. Like Il Postino, Ladies in Lavender is a period piece, set around about the same time as Radford's film, which zeroes in on a sleepy coastal town and a specific inhabitant whose life has been somewhat bereft of incident, let alone incident with the opposite sex, and often, we feel, sheltered. Amidst the town's more animated activity, that being limited to fishing and only fishing, a younger member of the other gender crash lands into the laps of our lead; their beauty prominent, their allusive qualities more than evident and their presence later shattering. As either films progress, we will come to watch this lead go on to both interact as well as advance the nature of their feelings for the previously exterior individual; thus leading to all sorts of complications to do with lust and anger which lead to overwhelming residing sentiments.

The film follows that of Judi Dench's Ursula, an elderly woman living in a Cornish town with her sister Janet – played by the seemingly ever-consummate Maggie Smith. This pairing live in the sort of place in which local residents are able to recall what people looked like nigh-on forty years ago, the sense of those born in the area not necessarily going anywhere during their lives that is particularly far away from the area, prominent. We open on them with this quaint, blissful sentiment to proceedings; the duo messing about on a beach during a clear summer evening establishing real degrees of closeness and a sense of very little strife, or indeed, issue, currently between them - even at this late stage in either of their lives. Whilst on the beach, Janet appears willing to have a brief paddle in the lapping sea; Ursula's natural reaction to dismiss such an idea, through being afraid of it or whatever, sees her hold back as the sibling makes the proverbial step forward to get involved, thus an instance is an early highlighting of either women's nature and the dynamic of their relationship therein.

Further sentiments of these sisters being as close as they are reside when we realise they share a bedroom housing two single beds, in spite of the fact the house is clearly big enough for the pair of them. Janet's side-table houses a photograph of a younger man dressed as a soldier, and is most probably her husband; then we observe that Ursula's side-table is vacant of such things, inferring a lack of prior masculine presence in her life. As a pairing, we observe Janet dismissing a "populist" radio show Ursula enjoys listening to; Janet spends the free time they have reading, whereas Ursula can only knit and when it comes to starting up their motor-vehicle to go out, Janet must again drive proceedings as she cranks it up and gets it going before taking them both out. Culturally, and in terms of exposure to life and whatnot, Janet appears indelibly more advanced than her sister; brief establishments that go a long way to tee up what will be Ursula's tale of having to come to terms with certain feelings and drive a strand of her own that will go against this established patriarchy.

Where we come to sense few ever get out, and that sense of the whole place being entirely tied in to one another in that community driven way some places are, we sense the film's catalyst arriving in the form of a young man washed up on the nearby shore through Daniel Brühl's Andrea could be quite the occasion. Upon first seeing him, and the consequent interactions thereafter, Janet's busy physical demeanour as someone trying to aid and take care of him is in stark contrast to Ursula's stilted, far more stunned complexion; she reacts as if not having seen one of his kind in her entire life, even doing so a fair time after the initial shock of finding someone with the potentially to be seriously injured or even dead has evaporate. The night before Andrea's inglorious arrival, they turn off their radio with the announcer on the brink of speaking of a severe storm due to hit the area – what they end up with is a more burning, more physical incarnation of this sort, particularly when Natascha McElhone manoeuvres into proceedings. McElhone plays a Russian love rival named Olga whom turns up and reveals herself to paint rather than merely knit; someone whom we enjoy observing at home, barefoot, and blowing smoke into the air from her cigarette as she sports a loose gown and sits comfortably on a chair in an extravagant looking house.

The film gently constructs Ursula's gradual coming to feel for this young man, eventually revealed to be a Polish violinist. The film tiptoes between a fine line separating it from warm hearted drama and out and out tragedy; we really enjoy Dench's acting - her frail and fragile performance, as she plays this vulnerable person exposed to elements she struggles to comprehend, a wondrous performance off the back of playing that of domineering, grizzled women evident in the likes of Die Another Day and The Chronicles of Riddick: Dench flicks from one to the other remarkably. Director Charles Dance, his first and so far his only venture into directing, does a more than ample job in depicting these events and these characters; his film amongst some of the better film-making debuts from the first half of last decade, and worthy of utterance in the same breath as Romanek's One Hour Photo or Richard Kelly's Donnie Darko, in what is a fascinating drama.

Yes, that's what the title really means. It's nothing to do with what they wear, in spite of the movie posters. It harks back to the days when people used to lay away linen or other fabrics in lavender to prevent moths and mildew. So what this film was saying was - these ladies have been in storage a while, forgotten - and only when the young Polish guy comes into their lives do they flicker back to life.

The usual superb performances from Judi and Maggie, what makes them so good, in Judi Dench's case particularly, is that you can *see* what they are thinking before they even speak.

Superb fingering on the violin from an actor who, prior to this movie, had never touched one - you'd swear he was really playing.

The movie was particularly poignant for me as I lived for many years in Cornwall and recognised a lot of the scenery. I can, incidentally, assure the critic who claimed a "mistake" by saying Starry-gazey pie is confined to Moushole, that this he/she totally wrong.

It may have been originally a Mousehole speciality, but like Yorkshire pudding, has long since spread to other areas.

Ladies in Lavender is one of those British films which will become a classic for its gentle theme, fantastic setting (inside and out) superb lighting and sound - and a good, strong story line.

Possible Spoilers

'Ladies in Lavender' is an example of the genre which has become known as 'Heritage Cinema'. The term is generally used to describe films set in the past, often in the nineteenth or early twentieth century, and which aim for a detailed recreation of the period. Plots are often taken from literary sources, there is often (but not always) an emphasis on the wealthy or well-to-do sections of society, the films tend to concentrate on emotions and psychology rather than dramatic physical action, and are often very visually attractive with lovingly shot photography of the scenery that forms the backdrop to the action. Although the genre is sometimes criticised as being backward-looking or over-conservative, it is one in which it is possible to work creatively and one in which much good work has been done in recent years, especially in Britain.

The film is set in the 1930s and centres around two elderly sisters, Janet (a widow) and Ursula (a spinster),two live together in a cottage by the sea in Cornwall. (For non-British readers, this is a rural county in the extreme south-west of England). Their lives are changed one morning after a stormy night when they discover a young man cast up on the beach after being washed overboard from a ship. They take the stranger back to their cottage where they care for him and nurse him back to health. They discover that he is Polish, that his name is Andrea and that he is a talented violinist. A romance develops between Andrea and Olga Daniloff, a Russian émigré artist, whose brother is himself a famous violinist and takes Andrea under his wing as his protégé. This romance, however, arouses the jealousy of Ursula, who has herself developed feelings for the young man. Andrea and Olga also arouse the suspicion of the locals, especially when they are heard speaking German (their only shared language) together; this is the period leading up to the Second World War, and anyone believed to be German is regarded with deep distrust.

Like many 'heritage cinema' pictures, this one makes good use of the scenery; there is some fine photography of the Cornish landscapes. Nigel Hess's music also plays an important part; I understand that he composed not only the incidental music but also the wonderful violin concerto which we hear Andrea playing in a concert near the end of the film. (This was supposedly composed by Boris Daniloff for Andrea to play. It did seem a little too conservative in style for the 1930s, but possibly Daniloff was a follower of, say, Rachmaninov rather than the likes of Stravinsky).

What really makes the film a success, however, is the fine acting. The two Dames, Judi Dench and Maggie Smith, are two of the best actresses of their generation in Britain. (They were born within three weeks of each other in December 1934). Both give marvelous performances here, bringing out the differing individual personalities of the two sisters. Janet is the dominant personality, Ursula the quieter, more passive one. Judi Dench shows us the full tragedy of Ursula's situation. Unlike her sister, whose husband died in the Great War, has never previously been in love with a man; she only falls in love when it is too late and her love is an impossible one for a much younger man. There is some enjoyable comic relief from Miriam Margolyes as Dorcas, the sisters' loyal but outspoken housekeeper. Daniel Bruehl is also very good in a trilingual performance as Andrea. (He has to speak dialogue not only in his native German but also in English and Polish).

I had never heard of William J. Locke, who wrote the short story on which this film was based. I understand that he was a popular and prolific author in the Britain of the late nineteenth and early twentieth century, but he now seems almost completely forgotten. Literary survival, however, is often as much a matter of fashion and chance as of merit, and many fine stories have been written by authors whom we do not remember today. In his directorial debut Charles Dance has shown that even the works of a neglected author can form the basis of a fine film. This is a memorable tale of love and longing. 8/10