"A well-made film." A curious phrase which is not applied to every well-made film. It tends to denote one, perhaps deriving from a novel, in which scant consideration has been given to turning prose into something which sits upon the screen as a film. Cue high ceilings, low lighting and characters whose dialogue pauses only while a maid places a tray beside the flickering fireplaces - or they sit by a candle at a desk to write a letter whose contents bring a voice-over.
On the face of it, The Governess (1997) might not appear innocent of such charges, and yet it keep one's interest. Written and directed by Sandra Goldbacher, who had previously made commercials and would make only one more film before working in television, it opens in 1840s London where two Jewish sisters discuss the prospect of losing their virginity. Any such hopes are dashed by violence in the metropolis and their father's death.
With which, one of them (Minnie Driver) masks her race and advertises her availability as a tutor. This leads to a carriage ride to the Isle of Skye, where her charge is an obnoxious girl whose querulous tone must owe something to a mother (Harriet Walter) embittered by life in this remote spot while her husband (Tom Wilkinson) spends his time in a part of the building from which others are excluded while he studies animals and, in particular, the way in which to create a means to fix photographic images of them on paper before fading.
In various ways, the place is seething, given to obsession, rivalry, all of it beautifully filmed. A look in the eye, or through a lens, is steeped in so much more. And, yes, dinners around a large table are fraught.
We have been here before, and doubtless will do so again, but, in the meanwhile The Governess makes for an enjoyable couple of hours, perhaps on a winter's evening, certainly with a glass of wine - and with it comes the reflection that remote Scottish islands and emotional turmoil have yet to match Powell and Pressburger's I Know Where I'm Going.