The basic situation -- that of an Anglo-Irish aristocracy whose long tenure in County Cork causes them to sympathize and identify with the Irish in their fight for independence, post-WWI, even though the Irish natives do not return the affection -- is inherently interesting, and is made more so, or at least fully so, by being new to the screen. Deborah Warner, an English stage director, is new to the screen as well. She shows no great dexterity with the camera; and she tends in the editing, if not sooner, to lose track of some of the multitude of characters around the pivotal country estate. Perhaps not too surprisingly, she seems most secure in her handling of dialogue, but then the dialogue itself -- witty, pithy, and pregnant -- is voluptuous to handle, and is in the caressing hands (or caressing mouths, rather) of such dextrous line-readers as Maggie Smith, Fiona Shaw, Michael Gambon, and even the breathless Jane Birkin. The notable exception is David Tennant, too nakedly pathetic as the unsuitable suitor to the young heroine. The fresh-faced, puffy-eyed Keeley Hawes, with a Keely Smith bob, holds her own in the lead role. And her status as an amateur secret agent among oblivious elders -- peeping through a removable floorboard, peering through a spyglass, eavesdropping on private conversations, witnessing the transfer of a firearm, and running supplies to a holed-up rebel -- is sketched out intelligently, artfully, subtly, almost (appropriately enough) furtively. Based on a novel by Elizabeth Bowen. (2000) — Duncan Shepherd