My Life So Far

David Puttnam's production signs off with an ill-advised flourish, a biographical notation to the effect that young Fraser, our pubescent hero, grew up to become a TV executive and serve on the board of the English National Opera. As CVs go, it's not exactly Olympic Gold medal material - especially as the preceding 90 minutes or so leave us in no doubt that the lad grew up in the most privileged surroundings in the Scottish Highlands. Still, if you can stomach a boy who clings to the skirts of 'Mumsy' and 'Gramma' to protect him from 'The Hairy Man' (a shell-shocked tramp), Sir Denis Forman's memoir serves well enough as the basis for a gently nostalgic coming-of-age story with a tourist-friendly 1920s setting. It centres on Fraser's relationship with his dad (Firth), an inventor who takes special pride in his spagnum moss, thinks Louis Armstrong plays the devil's music, and loses face when he becomes besotted with exotic Aunt Heloise (Jacob). This all causes great suffering to Mumsy, but at least affords Mastrantonio a couple of strong emotional scenes and relieves us momentarily from Fraser's not terribly exciting adventures in the library. Lasse Hallström might have dug out the human comedy in it, but director Hudson only manages to cloy.