My Life So Far

By the titles of their memoirs you will know them. Th subject if Portrait of the Artists As a Young Man will become James Joyce; the author of My Life So Far (originally titled Son of Adam) will grow up to be Sir Denis Forman, a British television executive. Joyce is a genius; Forman is not -- yet Hugh Hudson's adaptation of Forman's book enlightens and entertains as long as it adheres to the casual, inchoate, eccentric spirit suggested by its title.

Here Forman has been rechristened Fraser Pettigrew (Robert Norman), the scion of Kiloran House, which is owned by his grandmother Gamma (Rosemary Harris) and ruled by Gamma and her daughter Moira (Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio). The uncertain interloper in this post-World War IScottish Elysium is Fraser's beloved father, Edward (Colin Firth), who has taken the rolling-stone proverb to heart and turned the estate into the world's only supplier of sphagnum moss. That and his penchant for Beethoven, flying machines, and cold outdoor baths mark Edward as a free spirit. But not where matters of the flesh are concerned. He spends his spare time preaching Non-Conformist fire and brimstone -- until Moira's dapper millionaire brother Morris (Malcolm McDowell) shows up with his young French bride, Héloïse (Irene Jacob).

Ostensibly told from Fraser's point of view, this morality tale of desire, propriety, covetousness, and hypocrisy is most telling when Hudson keeps it at a distance (a final confrontation is jarring and distasteful), allowing Norman's carrot-topped curiosity and insouciance to take charge. A tasty trifle full of treats, My Life So Far is satisfying as far as it goes. At the Avon.
-- Peter Keough