The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie

09/10/26

The Royal Lyceum Theatre, Edinburgh

The titular educator is an Edinburgh icon, her legacy woven into the fabric of the city, from the Vennel’s Miss Jean Brodie Steps to Bruntsfield’s Muriel Spark Walk. Her very name references Deacon Brodie, one of the city’s most infamous 18th century luminaries, a thief and philanderer she proudly claims as her ancestor. Perhaps her duplicitous nature is part of her DNA.

This vibrant production (from the National Theatre of Scotland, The Royal Lyceum and Pitlochry Festival Theatre) breathes new life into the old favourite, amplifying the teacher’s allure as well as her failings.

It’s 1935. In Europe, Adolf Hitler is a rising threat but Benito Mussolini, although polarising, is admired by many for his bold authoritarianism. Primary school teacher Miss Jean Brodie (Gayle Rankin) is certainly a fan: she shares his aesthetic obsession with order and control. Like the Italian fascist, she is a charismatic leader – and her classroom is her country.

Miss Brodie’s eleven-year-old pupils are in their final year of Juniors and she’s supposed to be preparing them for their Senior school entrance exam. Instead, as soon as her classroom door is closed, she kicks off her shoes and denounces the system. She lambasts the conservative Miss Mackay (Maureen Beattie), encouraging the girls to mock their headmistress. In lieu of maths, she shares bon mots; rather than history, she tells tales of her holidays. In short, Miss Brodie casts a spell over her students, inspiring a cult-like devotion that feeds her monstrous ego.

Of course, we’d call it grooming nowadays. Miss Brodie’s ‘set’ are carefully selected for their pliability and romanticism, wooed with flattery, sex-talk, secrets and booze. For preteens Sandy (Bobby Rainsbury), Jenny (Shreya Khaund Marshall), Monica (Tallulah Greive), Mary (Liberty Black) and Joyce Emily (Sophie Fortune), it’s a heady, irresistible mix, in stark contrast to Miss Mackay’s moribund regime. But children have a habit of growing up and noticing their heroines’ feet of clay. And who is Miss Brodie without her posse of adoring fans?

Written by David Harrower and directed by Vicky Featherstone, this adaptation of Sparks’ best-known novel is a triumph, with a clarity of vision that renders the play every bit as engaging as its protagonist. The three-hour running time flies by. Rankin is mesmerising as the charismatic lead; it’s easy to understand why the girls are so in thrall to her, not to mention her two suitors, drippy, devoted Mr Lowther (Brian Ferguson) and brooding badass Mr Lloyd (Dyfan Dwyfor).

Chloe Lamford’s spectacular set design – a giant semi-circle of tiered steps – resembles nothing so much as a Roman amphitheatre (with the auditorium completing the circle), the perfect venue for the gladiatorial-style battle Miss Brodie believes she is engaged in, determined as she is to promote individualism and free the girls from the tyranny of ‘team spirit’. Behind the steps, Lewis den Hertog’s enormous video projections throw up ever-changing images, from Proto-Renaissance art to fascist marches, Miss Brodie’s adult worldliness dwarfing her young acolytes’ limited experience. No wonder she clings to her job so passionately; in this arena, she appears all-knowing.

I love Anna Orton’s costume design, Miss Brodie’s outfits reflecting the different stages of the girls’ relationship with her. When Rankin first enters, striking a powerful pose centre stage, she’s dressed flamboyantly in a fitted pink leather skirt and a green shirt with oversized, wing-like sleeves. We see her through her pupils’ eyes as she morphs from exotic and exciting to strong and commanding, changing into a structured suit with sharp lines and pagoda shoulders. As the girls grow older and she confides in them about her love-life, she begins to dress in a more overtly sexy way (cue tight-fitting zebra print) before finally being cut down to size, literally undressed and relegated to a nursing home and a dull dressing gown.

The girls’ costumes are interesting too. In the first act, they wear simple black smocks, complete with white collars and black knee socks. After the interval, it takes me a few minutes to notice a subtle difference: the dresses are now sheer, the girls’ sensible underwear clearly visible beneath. The imagery is clever in its simplicity, showing how the girls are becoming young women, their sexuality burgeoning despite the school’s strictures.

It’s also a sign that Miss Brodie’s reign is coming to an end.

To be honest, when I re-read The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie a few years ago, I didn’t enjoy it, and I wondered if the story had lost its potency. Thanks to this magnificent production, I now know that it has not.

5 stars

Susan Singfield

Whaur’s Yer Wullie Shakespeare Noo?

08/10/26

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

The second Play Pie Pint production of the Autumn season is written and directed by the company’s Artistic Director, Brian Logan – and it’s hardly surprising that a playwright so immersed in Scottish theatre would choose Scottish theatre history as his theme.

It’s 1756, the age of Scottish Enlightenment. The movement’s core thinkers are resoundingly pro-theatre but they are met with opposition – not only from Westminster’s Licensing Act but also from the the Kirk, where strict Calvinists like John Witherspoon (Gavin Jon Wright) view play-acting as the Devil’s work.

Encouraged by philosopher David Hume (Fraser Sivewright), minister John Home (Lewie Watson) illegally stages his play, Douglas, sparking an infamous furore. The production is a remarkable success, prompting one particularly enthusiastic audience member to yell out the titular question, convinced that Home’s talent surpasses Shakespeare’s.

But for minister Alexander Carlyle (Kevin Lennon), attending his friend’s play means facing charges in an ecclesiastical trial…

A fierce moral and philosophical battle ensues, polarising the country.

Unfortunately, there are times when WYWSN? becomes bogged down in the weight of its material. Although I am fascinated by what I learn about Scottish theatrical history, some of the early dialogue is very expositional, while the courtroom scene is somewhat static and over-long.

However, the four actors are terrific, tearing through this playful Scots romp with alacrity and aplomb. There’s a lot packed into the sixty-minute running time but, under Logan’s direction, they handle it all with apparent ease – switching from hammed-up scenes from Douglas to earnest religious debate, from Python-esque ditty to court room drama. Memorable moments include the English Lord Bute (Wright) patronising Home when his play transfers to London, and the aforementioned silly song.

As for Home’s playwriting prowess, the scenes from Douglas are certainly enjoyable – but I don’t think they pose any real threat to the Bard of Avon’s legacy…

3 stars

Susan Singfield

The Void

07/10/26

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

Not exactly a play and not exactly a science-fiction movie, The Void occupies a curious space in the hinterland somewhere between the two. While Caitlin Marwhinney’s spectacular set design is impressive and Nick Sagar’s sound design provides plenty of jolting jump scares, the story itself isn’t quite as assured.

An impressive circular screen imparts important information in the voice of Nova (Olwen May), an AI. It’s the year 2160, the Earth has been destroyed and a massive corporation now dictates the lives of the remaining humans, who all have a chip implanted in their brains to ensure that they do exactly what they’re told. Space Ranger Flint (Alex Moran) encounters a starship called The Odyssey drifting somewhere near Saturn. He boards it, only to find that all but one of the crew are dead, most of the corpses kneeling with their faces pressed to the nearest wall. The lone survivor is Blair (Ryan Simmons, who also wrote the script and directs), a scientist who seems to be concealing some kind of secret.

Flint explores the ship trying to find out what happened to the crew but he’s haunted by the fact that some of the things he encounters on his search seem weirdly familiar to him…

There’s no doubting the ambition of Thunder Road’s production – and this genre rarely gets a look-in on the stage, unless it’s backed by a budget the size of a small planet, so I’m primed to want this to succeed. While it does on a technical level, with the accomplished cinematic elements expanding the story’s universe beyond the limitations of a stage, I feel that the convolutedscript too often leaves me puzzled about what exactly is going on. While this would be fine if all the disparate plot-strands felt resolved by the conclusion, I still find myself drawing a blank on some aspects of the story as I leave the Traverse.

On the other hand, I am pretty impressed by the almost magical effects that are utilised in the telling, particularly the ‘space walk’ sequence and a couple of sudden disappearances that leave me wondering how they were achieved. Is there a skilled magician directing from the wings?

Moran’s performance is physically impressive (especially in the aforementioned ‘space walk’, which clearly requires formidable core strength); however, his vocal delivery is perhaps a little one-note, though this will surely settle down as The Void sets off on an extensive tour around the UK.

I for one applaud its intention to boldly go where few productions have gone before.

3.4 stars

Philip Caveney

Digger

02/10/26

Cineworld, Edinburgh

Digger appears to have polarised the critics. Several of the major players have delivered two-star reviews and grumbled that the film is ‘pretentious’ and ‘a holy mess.’ Only a few have been more positive in their appraisals. Perhaps that explains why I go along to this IMAX showing with such low expectations, but it fails to account for the fact that I enjoy the film as much as I do. For me, it’s wonderful to see Tom Cruise stepping away from the action-movie arena he’s been fixated on for so long, to work on something more unconventional. There’s been talk of an Oscar nomination, and I won’t be a bit surprised it that comes to pass; to my mind, he should have already won one back in 1999 for his performance in Paul Thomas Anderson’s Magnolia.

Here he plays Digger Rockwell, an obscenely-rich oil magnate, living alone in a country house with his faithful cat, Maggie, a scrawny beast who appears to be knocking at death’s door. Digger is the owner of many oil-drilling platforms in the Arctic and he’s intent on plundering every last drop he can get before his licences come up for renewal. When he’s warned about the possibility of an impending environmental catastrophe, he glibly shrugs the matter off, even though his resident expert, Ganesh (Riz Ahmed), has been warning him about this for years.

When the unthinkable actually happens, Digger is called in to help US President Compson (John Goodman) to deal with the developing situation. Compson is ill with (as he puts it himself) ‘ass cancer’ and isn’t really firing on all cylinders. (Remind you of anyone?) Digger falls back on his preferred method of doubling down and telling it like it is…

The film begins as a kind of Kubrickian black comedy, à la Dr Strangelove, with the various characters flailing about as the stakes rise ever higher – but something mysterious is going on behind the scenes, with bewildering cutaways to something that suggests that not everything is as straightforward as it appears. And who is the mysterious Kenny (Jesse Plemons), who keeps turning up and asking Digger such strange questions?

Directed and co-written by two-times Oscar winner Alejandro G. Iñárritu, Digger keeps quite a lot up its sleeve and it would be criminal to reveal any more about where this story is actually headed. Let me just say this: be prepared to have your brains well and truly scrambled. Cruise immerses himself in the character(s) he plays and he’s backed up by a stellar cast of actors including Sandra Hüller and Michael Stuhlbarg in what amount to little more than cameo roles. The film’s main premise examines the ways in which so many heinous, hubristic characters are elevated to heroic levels long after their deaths: how villains are neatly regenerated as heroes.

Pretentious? Maybe it is, but I for one would rather see a film that swings for the fences (and maybe even misses a couple of them in the process) than happily pursues something we’ve seen a hundred times before. The small audience at the screening I attend would suggest that the naysayers are having their inevitable effect on Digger‘s takings at the box office, but I truly believe that this film attempts – and largely accomplishes – something really extraordinary.

Why not go along and judge for yourselves? And yes, I appreciate the irony of one critic telling you to ignore the warnings of others, but I have always valued originality and, to my mind, this film has it in… ahem… spades.

4 stars

Philip Caveney

Eurydice

01/10/26

Assembly Roxy (Upstairs), Edinburgh

Sarah Ruhl’s 2003 play reimagines Virgil’s Orpheus and Eurydice, centring the latter and relegating her lover to a supporting role. But this feminist retelling is a paradoxical one. Sure, the story is told from the heroine’s point of view; however, I don’t think the choice between three competing versions of male authority quite cuts it as real agency.

In this version, young lovers Eurydice (Erin Jederon-Hogg) and Orpheus (Shaun Hamilton) are immature and impetuous, carried away by romance and fantasy. They’re not especially well-suited: he’s airy, his head full of whimsy and song; she’s livelier, earthier; she likes to swim, dance and read. Nonetheless, they decide to marry.

Eurydice’s late father (John Beattie) is watching from beyond the grave, desperate to communicate with his daughter, to pass on parental advice. He writes her a letter and gives it to a worm, hoping it will somehow make its way to her. But a Nasty Interesting Man (Jimmy Kavanagh) intercepts the note, using it to entice Eurydice away from her wedding and to her death, to the Underworld where he presides…

Orpheus is devastated; Eurydice not so much. Of course, death is confusing at first. She’s bathed in the Waters of Lethe, so she can’t remember anything, not even how to speak. Once she reconnects with her father, however, things start to come back, and they’re happy together in their room of string, rebuilding their relationship.

But both Orpheus and the Nasty Interesting Man want to claim Eurydice as their own. Which of the three men will she choose?

Any issues I have with Eurydice are with the script, not Gutter.’s first-rate production. Jederon-Hogg and Kavanagh excel in the showiest roles, the former captivating as the lead, shining with youthful exuberance in the early scenes before recoiling uneasily from the INM’s creepy attempts at seduction. Kavanagh plays the INM with evident relish, his gaze eerily intense, his enunciation horribly slow and precise. He imbues this absurd version of Hades with real menace, even while dragging a small red tricycle behind him. The INM grows downwards, he says, and changes abruptly from toddler to playboy. Meanwhile, Hamilton and Beattie competently deliver the more understated performances their characters call for, Hamilton offering a palpable sense of loss and bewilderment, while Beattie provides a core of gentle stability.

The stones are my favourites though. Amelie Berry (Loud Stone), Aodhán Mallon (Big Stone) and Lisa Gilham (Little Stone) form a hilarious Greek chorus, whinging and whining in perfect unison, like bored children given too much responsibility.

The design of this piece belies its shoestring budget. The set (by Iris Ollier and Lydia Miller) makes ingenious use of cellophane, string and bent wire, while the costumes (by Eliza Beecroft) are bold and evocative. I especially like the over-sized suits worn by the stones; ragged, sleeveless and threaded with bits of old jewellery, they have a curious jarring effect.

Could there be more actual music in the play, especially when Orpheus is onstage? It would certainly help if we were shown how musical he is, rather than merely told. That aside, co-directors Jane Morgan and Rue Richardson have done a sterling job. This is a pacy, compelling production and the ninety-minute running time seems to fly by.

4 stars

Susan Singfield

Wallace

30/09/26

King’s Theatre, Edinburgh

It’s an auspicious night. We’re finally back at the King’s Theatre after a four year absence and the Old Lady of Leven Street is looking absolutely glorious, every surface gleaming after a £41 million upgrade. Ironically, similar observations might be made about Wallace. We were lucky enough to catch its humbler iteration last year as part of the Traverse’s A Play, A Pie and A Pint Season. It was clear from the get-go that this Scottish hip-hop bio-musical had the potential to fill more than the stripped-back propulsive hour it occupied then.

One glance at Neil Haynes’ magnificent set design, where the carcass of a deer dangles over a series of steps and ramps, confirms that the show has indeed taken a big leap – though ironically, composer/lyricist Dave Hook has taken a literal step back. He’s still cast as the titular Scottish hero but spends most of his time behind a sound deck, only stepping out to perform specific songs. The bulk of the narration goes to ‘Scotsman’ (Ross Mann), who proudly boasts that he is a direct descendent of William Wallace – and who has a hissy fit when he’s informed, later in the show, that his hero (if he existed) might not even have been Scottish.

Original show performers, ‘Sasenach'( Manasa Tagica) and ‘wummin’ (Patricia Panther) return to the fray. This time, Panther is accompanied by Madeleine Grieve and Kimberly Mandino, the three of them popping and locking in perfect time as they belt out the lyrics, making the most of the opportunity to sing about how women usually get overlooked in these alpha-male historic recreations.

What makes this musical really distinctive is that it has the guts to question its hero. Was William Wallace really any better than his adversary Edward “Longshanks?” (Yes, he was.) Didn’t they both emerge from cauldrons of calamity and cruelty, taught to be savage by the very savagery heaped upon them as they grew up?

There has been much talk of Wallace as the Scottish Hamilton, and perhaps that’s as good a description as any. Suffice to say, it makes a confident, swaggering transition to this bigger, longer production and the new material blends seamlessly with the old. Derek Anderson’s dynamic lighting designs add some truly dazzling effects and I love the perfectly-timed drop that ends the first act.

Of course, some things can be lost in translation. Perhaps this isn’t quite as sleek as that leaner, meaner original – and yes, occasionally in the sonic fury of the sound mix, those whip-smart lyrics are harder to follow. But nonetheless, Wallace is a satisfyingly epic production that confirms the suspicion I had when I saw it in its original guise: this is a winner – and as it moves on to an extended Scottish tour, it can only get better.

4.6 stars

Philip Caveney

The Whaler’s Wife

29/09/26

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

Hurrah! A Play, A Pie and A Pint is back! There’s something so alluring – almost illicit – about sneaking in a bit of culture in the middle of a working day; surely this is how all lunch hours should be?

This new season kicks off with The Whaler’s Wife, written by Izzy Gray and directed by Beth Morton. Set in 1820s Orkney (Gray hails from the islands), the script is arguably too complex for its one-hour running time. As the play opens, we are introduced to three women whose husbands’ whaleboat, The Diamond, is missing. Marion (Joyce Falconer), a no-nonsense matriarch to whom the others usually defer, is all for carrying on as normal, but Elsie (Shawney Henderson) is keen to write the men off as dead. She’s glad the boat hasn’t returned; she’s not a fan of married life. Meanwhile Bess (Emma Tracey), who has a lot to say about the whalers’ ethics, is clearly nursing a secret…

Woven into this framework is a tantalising mix of folklore, tradition, sea shanties and social history. We learn about the pitiless nature of the women’s lives, as they scrape a living from the sea and land, gutting mackerel and smuggling booze. The men have an even harder job – and it’s brutalised them. Bess deplores not only the whalers’ bloodlust, but also their new habit of seizing ‘wives’ from the lands they visit. It’s all fascinating – but a lot to take in. The unfamiliar (to me) Orcadian dialect lends the piece both lyricism and authenticity, but it does make it harder to follow the – at times literally – labyrinthine plot.

The Whaler’s Wife is handsomely staged, Gillian Argo’s set and costume design belying the limited PPP budget. The songs (arranged by Bethany Tennick) somehow manage to be both haunting and rousing, reinforcing the contradictions at the heart of the story: the poetry and savagery of island life.

Morton’s direction works well: the play ebbs and flows like the tide, from raucous to thoughtful, horror to hope. I’m left with the abiding image of billowing sheets, concealing and then revealing. I’m hooked, but also frustrated. This needs to be a full-length play to give the myriad ideas more breathing space.

3.4 stars

Susan Singfield

Revel

26/09/26

The Studio at Festival Theatre, Edinburgh

Company Chordelia’s latest production is Revel, a “60+ coming-of-age story” told through a mesmerising blend of dance and physical theatre. Two dancers (Kally Lloyd-Jones – who also writes and directs – and Steinvör Palsson) have arrived backstage a mere nine hours before their evening show. They’re “middle-class women of a certain age” (™Gregg Wallace) and the bodies they took for granted in their youth now require an awful lot of maintenance. These days, their preparation involves pills, creams, massages, yoga and more; the list is long and it is brutal. “I used to be able to drink,” Palsson laments. “I used to be able to sleep,” counters Lloyd-Jones.

Of course, the duo are professional performers so, even as they’re mourning their former physical prowess, I’m in awe of what they can still do. I’m a decade younger than they are and I like to think I’m in reasonable shape, but these two give the lie to that conceit. Sure, they might not be able to do the splits any more, but they can contort themselves into some highly impressive positions, and the section where Lloyd-Jones dances to Odyssey’s Use It Up and Wear It Out is just magnificent.

Although Revel is specific in its exploration of dancers’ relationships with their ageing bodies, it also has universal appeal. This morning at the gym, for example, mulling over this review, I find myself groaning in wry recognition as I squint at my padlock, trying to read the combination, my carefully-packed reading glasses the other side of the locker door…

I particularly enjoy the clowning sections: Palsson’s lark-like morning energy versus Lloyd-Jones’ slug-a-bed refusal to get up; the frantic, repetitive routines they perform in a bid to outrun time. I also love the elegy to a high-heeled shoe, which is strangely affecting.

Revel is a gentle show, amusing and stirring in equal measure – with an upbeat, almost celebratory ending that means we leave the theatre smiling, happy to be granted the gift of growing old.

4 stars

Susan Singfield

Sense and Sensibility

25/09/26

Cineworld, Edinburgh

If there’s a Jane Austen adaptation available, of course I’m going to see it. The advance press hasn’t been too kind to this latest version, scripted by Diana Reid and directed by Georgia Oakley, but that doesn’t deter me. Am I expecting to love it as much as I do the book? Of course not. Do I think it’ll measure up to Ang Lee and Emma Thompson’s superb Oscar-winner? Again, no. But it’s thirty-one years (THIRTY-ONE YEARS!) since Thompson and Kate Winslet represented the titular traits so it seems reasonable to revisit Austen’s first-published novel and open it up to a whole new audience.

Daisy Edgar-Jones and Esmé Creed-Miles are credible as the older Dashwood sisters, Elinor and Marianne, whose fortunes have taken a sudden tumble following their father’s death. Their half brother, John (Tom Brooke), has inherited Norland Park and, egged on by his ghastly wife, Fanny (Stacy Martin), not only declines to offer his stepmother (Caitríona Balfe) any money but also wastes no time in turfing his three sisters out of the only home they’ve ever known. Thirteen-year-old Margaret (Bodhi Rae Breathnach) is distraught.

Enter kind-hearted distant relative, Mrs Jennings (the ever-fabulous Fiona Shaw), whose son-in-law, Sir John Middleton (Turlough Convery), just happens to have a spare cottage on his Devonshire estate. It’s a bit of a comedown for the Dashwoods but they’re grateful to have somewhere to go, not to mention relieved to escape from Fanny’s mean-spirited carping. All would be well – if it weren’t for Elinor’s unspoken attachment to Fanny’s brother, Edward (George MacKay). Devonshire is an awfully long way away from Sussex…

Still, they soon settle down in Barton Cottage, enjoying the beaches and beautiful countryside and befriending the taciturn Colonel Brandon (Herbert Nordrum). And when Marianne falls (quite literally) for the charming, raffish Willoughby (Frank Dillane), it seems her future, at least, is secured.

Except, sadly, it’s not.

The three sisters are well-cast, and I like the easy, naturalistic way they speak to one another in private. They’re tactile, which cements the realistic nature of their relationship, and their mutual care is palpable. Elinor’s sense (rationality) and Marianne’s sensibility (emotionality) are heightened, the juxtaposition between the two brought into sharp focus. Arguably this is a tad overdone but I don’t really mind.

Reid’s script foregrounds the perilous position of unmarried women in the Regency period, so that we can clearly see what’s at stake for Elinor and Marianne – and how much Elinor is prepared to give up for her principles. I love the party scenes: the dancing is far less mannered and restrained than we’re used to seeing in period drama; instead it’s wild and unfettered, an escape valve for all the lust and passion the characters are forced to repress. I also love the the atmospheric soundtrack by Roger Goula, which draws upon traditional English folk music.

Less successful are the numerous outside scenes. Austen’s interiority is integral to her books, reinforcing the constrained nature of her heroines’ lives. Although the cinematography (shot in 35mm by Arnaud Potier) is undeniably gorgeous, the emphasis on vast woodlands and open vistas belies that somewhat, suggesting an almost Brontë-like connection with the wider, natural world.

In addition, some of the minor characters are criminally underused, most notably Eliot Sumner’s Mr Palmer and Chloe Pirrie’s Lady Middleton. These two intriguing personalities are nicely set up and then given nowhere to go. And don’t speak to me about the barely-contextualised duel, which appears out of nowhere and jars horribly with the rest of the film.

Overall, however, I quite enjoy this iteration of Sense and Sensibility. It’s lively and engaging and successfully embodies the heart of Austen’s novel.

Whatever your persuasion, try to bypass any prejudice. You know it makes sense to see this film.

Sorry (not sorry).

3.8 stars

Susan Singfield

Hope

25/09/26

Cineworld, Edinburgh

Billed as ‘the most expensive Korean film ever,’ Hope is a two-and-a-half-hour movie with a brilliant ninety-minute action thriller wrapped up inside it.

We’re in South Korea, somewhere near the Northern border, and police chief Beom-seok (Hwang Jung-min) is having a bad day. Something big and deadly has been leaving a trail of havoc around the quiet suburb where he lives. At first, he assumes that some kind of wild animal is responsible but whatever is killing livestock and people with equal abandon doesn’t appear to be eating any of the meat. Beom-suk and a local hunter, Sung-ki (Zo In-sung), set off separately trying to track down the culprit, but it’s some considerable time before we discover that the beast isn’t a bear or a tiger but an extra terrestrial.

Then a fearless shotgun-toting policewoman, Sung-ae – played by KPop star, Jung Ho-yeon – drives at reckless speed to Beom-sok’s rescue, prompting a series of propulsive chase sequences. While these are splendidly filmed and at times breathlessly exciting, the action keeps being interrupted as the plot heads off into some odd cul de sacs.

A long sequence where an old man tells Sung-ae about a bout of diarrhoea he had in the woods is a notable culprit – it’s clearly supposed to be howlingly funny but really isn’t – and scenes depicting an alien autopsy also manage to go on far longer than is needed. The aliens themselves are created with CGI and this element too is unpredictable, swinging wildly between impressive and shonky.

And perhaps most puzzling of all, why would the lead aliens need to be played by Michael Fassbender and Alicia Vikander, since they don’t look anything like the actors and only speak using an invented language with English subtitles? Somewhere, there must be a couple of under-employed voice actors shaking their heads in disbelief at the missed opportunity.

Director Hong Na Jin makes everything look astonishing in that glossy, wide screen way, and there’s enough in this to make me think the man is a talent. But it’s only as the film ends that I realise Hope is only Part One of something much bigger. Whether I’ll be tempted out to Part Two is a matter of conjecture, but action fans will get a suitable fix here. Just be prepared for the less-assured elements.

3.4 stars

Philip Caveney