This is the most impressive directing debut by a "name" British actor in a long, long time.

The film is old-fashioned because it exists. No one, to use an ever-dubious line, makes films like this anymore.

The film is a small study in the dignity of letting go.

Full of delightful moments that throw into high relief the actors' craft.

It is a pleasure from start to finish.

Dance's directorial debut isn't exciting, but it's deeply felt and engagingly acted. Why doesn't he take more advantage of the story's opportunities for fine music, though?

For his directorial debut, British actor Charles Dance tackles such familiar English themes as repressed desire and an arm's-length fascination with foreigners. Luckily for the slight story, he has recruited two of the most effortlessly brilliant grande dames of British film.

The unspoken heroes of the project are cinematographer Peter Biziou, who finds all the beauty in Cornwall's landscapes, and U.S. violinist Joshua Bell, who extracts beauty without schmaltz from every violin solo.

A wistful little thing about regret, jealousy and love.

A poignant portrait of one woman who has loved and lost, and another who never had a love to lose.

So tastefully subdued it makes Merchant Ivory look like Gaspar Noé. And while they never look bored, Smith and Dench are clearly slumming, having played these roles in other costume pics.

Charles Dance's début feature is an impressive achievement.

It is to Dance's considerable credit that he never lets the filmmaking overtake the understated storytelling.

The sort of small, independent-minded picture that so much of American indie cinema strives, and often fails, to give us. It's a conventional picture, but it feels so deeply alive that it's practically a novelty.