jbateman

Many comments have been made about the brilliantly understated performances of Richard Todd (Guy Gibson, the RAF bombing expert who leads the raid) and Michael Redgrave (Barnes Wallis, the inventor whose vision propels the project and makes Gibson his disciple in it).

But one major theme is that of fighting a bureaucracy to fulfil a vision of how to do its work better than the ways it demands everybody use. This goes beyond a single wartime incident to give an inspiring portrait of individual talent and vision.

British wartime films are associated with "everyone pulling together in our darkest hour", but here we see those in authority as the villains (note that the Germans don't appear).

Consider the "last supper" scene before the raid. The airmen are sitting eating bacon and eggs, the last meal before bomber crews went out on a raid, many of them to die. The squadron paymaster strides up to the counter:

-bacon and eggs, please.

Woman behind counter, with strained respectfulness: are you flying tonight, sir?

• don't be stupid, woman. You know I'm the man who pays you every Thursday.

• your toast is on the table, sir.

The dinner lady understands the unwritten rule that the only men who get the traditional full English breakfast are those who might be dead a few hours later, and she rightly puts petty administrators in a completely different category, even if she has to call them 'sir'.

On the way to his plane, a pilot checks his mailbox. "Mess bill", he comments. "I can leave that till tomorrow". I think he's one of the ones who doesn't come back. A well placed line.

After the raid, Wallis meets Gibson coming off his plane, and asks him how it went. As he reels off the list of crews lost, he sees the astonishment creeping over Wallis, who suddenly realises that his obsession's fulfilment has cost the lives of so many of the young men he has been working with. Gibson's job is to deal death and receive it, and he must sooth the academic who suddenly realises what war involves:

• Wallis, you've been worrying more than any of us. Why don't you go to the doc and get some of his sleeping tablets?

• but .. what about you, Gibbo? Hadn't you better get some sleep as well?

[silence]

• Not now .. I've got some letters to write.

And as the credits roll, we see them walking away separately, Gibson to write letters to the families of 56 of his fellow airmen now presumed dead.

I don't want to neglect mentioning those who died horribly under the bombs, whose deaths are covered by triumphal scenes of the flooding after the raid. But the film itself deals with the effects war brings on a tightly-observed and well-played group of individuals, and shows these more cleverly than its modest reputation deserves.

*NB I can't vouchsafe the dialogue I've quoted, but it's pretty much what they say.

The secret of this comedy is its pacing. It shows the events of one working day in the lives of a range of people from schoolchildren to pensioners, whose course is hilariously skewed for them all by the obsession of the film's central character. It uses a traditional "obsessive tunnel vision" strategy of comedy - a character's failure to see the chaos he is causing in the lives of those who are unlucky enough to lie in the path between him and his goal.

Alison Steadman plays the sassy schoolgirl who does everything she can to help her headteacher achieve this obsession, tearing him between his drive for the peak of respectability orthodoxy and her less than respectable means to achieve this goal. The comic tension between the unlikely pair seems a hilarious pastiche of the sexual tension in most hero + heroine situations.

Americans may not immediately recognise the small-town England setting, which gives it a tone of Ealing comedy, but the film should greatly amuse viewers from any background.