In 1950s Liverpool, Leigh McCormack lives in a Catholic world where school nurses disapprovingly search you head for nits, teachers send you to the headmaster for disobeying rules that you don't know, and other boys at the parochial school beat you up for no clear reason. His only refuge is his mother, Marjorie Yates, and the movie theater.
It's beautifully shot and lovingly produced, but like many movies of its type, it follows young McCormack, a passive fellow who accepts the world for what it is, and takes comfort only in beauty; there is no kindness. I can see why it received a 10-minute standing ovation at Cannes, and then went home without an award. McCormack is not a performer in his world, just an observer. Nonetheless, it is beautifully put together.
It's beautifully shot and lovingly produced, but like many movies of its type, it follows young McCormack, a passive fellow who accepts the world for what it is, and takes comfort only in beauty; there is no kindness. I can see why it received a 10-minute standing ovation at Cannes, and then went home without an award. McCormack is not a performer in his world, just an observer. Nonetheless, it is beautifully put together.