One liked this when one was young. One now wonders why on earth one did so. Margaret Rutherford is a marvel, and we are all edified by the gratuitious prospect of a funny looking old lady in evening dress, doing the twist. But is there a director in this movie? Or someone who can focus the lens more consistently? The pace is leaden, and everything kind of cheap and tawdry and dispiriting. No wonder John Osborne and Tony Richardson took on Tom Jones, and did it so cheekily! We might think about that when we bemoan the current state of movies, media, the whole world. Yes there are difficulties, even considerable. But we can get mad at the wrong things, and not remember what other direness led to the conditions in question. Anyway, based on this evidence, British cinema really was dead. So thank you, Beatles!