Any film starring the Daniel Day Lewis is a pretty safe bet. Although indisputably sexy, he grabs the roles which once were only for 'character actors', which in Hollywood meant past the best, not-bland, kooky, or downright ugly. This time, he's an ageing hippy from Motherwell (judging by his impeccable accent), living on in an abandoned commune with Rose, his daughter (Camilla Belle) who has been so well kept away from the corrupting influences of the outside world that she behaves like his clone, or sister, or lover. Nothing lasts for ever, and here it's Jack's failing health and Rose's growing up that threaten the status quo. Jack's attempt to patch up his way of life which is falling apart like the commune house itself, means importing his actual lover, who brings her two sons. Awkwardly for Jack, all these people have their own lives and aspirations, which is something he will have become unaccustomed to on his little island, and the clash leads everyone in directions none of them expected. A further complication is the building of a dinky housing estate which Jack's terrorist policies cannot halt, and again, the man responsible for this inroad from the modern world turns out to be a human, too. The story raises lots of questions about freedom and responsibility; not least through the fact that Jack can only live his pure, undefiled life because of inherited money. The plot is full of surprises and so are the cast, negotiating a multi-layered web of intrigue with as much delicacy as strength. Rebecca Miller clearly is a writer of singular imagination, and if this, her third film (although she started acting on-screen in 1988) is the way she intends to keep directing, then that's just fine. CLIFF HANLEY
Review of The Ballad of Jack and Rose
