I have lifted my temporary ban on using the name of Cineworld because its PR has written back to apologise for the sub-title mess up and has helped me make sure it doesn’t happen again (I’m sworn to secrecy).
So, thanks to Joe Dawes, I can tell you that tonight Mrs W and I returned on Friday night to Nottingham Cineworld.
Actually, it seems like I’ve lived there this week.
Mrs W stayed for only one of tonight’s double bill, however. The reason for this will become obvious with the next blog.
So, we were in Nottingham watching a film about…Nottingham.
And Jim Loach’s movie left us with something of a ratings dilemma.
You see, I used to be on the staff of the Nottingham Evening Post newspaper and, therefore, knew well the amazing story of one of the city’s social workers, Margaret Humphreys. Mrs W did not.
It was during the course of her work that Margaret discovered that tens of thousands of youngsters were secretly deported from children’s homes to Australia during the 20th century.
She eventually founded the Child Migrants’ Trust and has reunited many with their parents or, at least, been able to tell them the truth about their origins.
That makes her story sound very simple. It wasn’t. She has battled with the authorities for years to get these cases recognised.
Some people told of harrowing stories of abuse whilst in Australia where many were thrown into orphanages and treated like slaves.
Emily Watson takes up the role of Margaret and Richard Dillane as her incredibly supportive husband Merv. The determination of the real characters is well reflected.
Among the migrants is Hugo Weaving.
Everyone is very understated and quite properly so. Most of the characters in the film were supposed to have had their personalities crushed in their childhood.
One of the rare exceptions was an animated clergyman played by Neil Melville. The truth is I’m only mentioning him to prove my point that no movie can be filmed in Australia without having a former member of the Neighbours cast. Neil was Roy Riley in 1992.
I digress. Loach’s movie is keenly observed down to the correct broadsheet version of my old paper circa 1986.
I have to point out, however, that the speed humps in the Sneinton area of Nottingham weren’t around that long ago.
Oops, I’m doing it. Being a picky critic. The exact thing I promised not to be when I embarked upon everyfilmin2011.
Oranges and Sunshine tells an important story and tells it well but I wasn’t overwhelmed with it because I already knew much of the history.
Actually, I was disappointed that we didn’t find out more about who was responsible.
However, it was interesting that Mrs W, who wasn’t so well up with the background, was really impressed and straightaway proclaimed it as an 8/10 movie.
I was erring more towards 6.5 but, having just gulped back a glass of Belgian beer, I’ll generously err on the side of the missus and say 7.5.
Whatever the rating, if you don’t know the story of the mass deportation, this film is worth seeing. It was a stunning and brutal act.