Yikes. This is pretty bad. The play isn't great to begin with, and the decision to transfer it to film does it no favours - especially as Peploe doesn't decide how she wants to treat the material's theatrical origins (we get occasional glances of an observing theatre audience etc.) and has decided to go with a jumpy editing style that is intended to keep reminding you that you're watching a film, whereas in fact it only serves to remind you that you are watching a very poor film by a director who is overwhelmed by her material. Mira Sorvino's central performance is breath-takingly poor: stage-y and plummy, it's as if she's playing the part via Helena Bonham-Carter's Merchant Ivory oeuvre. Only Fiona Shaw delivers a performance of note - and it may be that her theatrical pedigree means that she is best able to handle the material - but it's hard to watch a film for one performance alone, even if that performance is as light, truthful and entire as Shaw's. Ben Kingsley turns in an average and disengaged turn, and Diana Rigg's daughter, Rachel Stirling plays her supporting role as just that. Sadly, none of Bertolucci's magic has rubbed off on his wife if this film is to be the evidence.