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Elizabeth Hunter controls all in her life, society, her staff, her children; but the once great beauty will now determine her most defiant act as she chooses her time to die. But in dying, as in living, Mrs Hunter remains a powerful force on those who surround her.
The film circles (slowly, like an overfed vulture) around the protracted death of a savage matriarch played, with no concessions to subtlety, by Charlotte Rampling.
It is funny and sad in patches, but never comes completely alive, perhaps because there isn't a single character with whom you can feel fully in sympathy.
Rush and Davis are two of the best actors in the business, and their brittle gamesmanship and rue holds the screen. But the film is disappointingly lackluster -- a mild squall instead of a storm.
It's a chilly, cruel film about characters that are difficult to like or warm to, and it obviously means a great deal to a country that for so long rejected its greatest writer.
Has taken almost two years to reach the UK; you'd be forgiven for thinking it was far longer, given its sub-Joseph Losey pretensions and doily-like styling.