A rare exception to the rule that great literature makes disappointing films, John Huston's beautiful farewell to life and the movies is almost entirely true to the narrative and the spirit of James Joyce's short story, a tender meditation on love, death and time expressed in the events of a Twelfth Night party in middle-class Dublin circa 1910. Unpromising as the material might appear, the film succeeds by its willingness to tell the story on its own quiet, apparently inconsequential terms, rather than force a conventional cinematic shape of plot points and dramatic incidents upon it. Only once is the wrong note struck, when old Miss Julia (a trained singer and music teacher whose voice is supposed to have been cracked by age, not shattered) sings so badly that the audience burst out laughing when I saw this at the cinema. Fortunately, the mood of hushed and gentle melancholy is re-established in plenty of time for the moment of revelation between the married couple Gabriel and Gretta Conroy in a hotel bedroom as snow begins to fall outside. It's a sad story, I suppose, but the kind that leaves you feeling better, not blue. Especially recommended as a date movie - for people in love who aren't frightened of confronting the sweetness and sadness of life.