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<\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\nShe\u2019s flanked by four other girls, all dressed the same: Finnoula (Abigail Lawrie), Chell (Rona Morison), Manda (Sally Messham) and Kylah (Marli Siu). But they are not, as it might seem, awaiting the return of their betrothed from battle, or simply withering away, their chastity held close to them like a pearl in its shell. The story they tell is not one of love, loyalty, or sacrifice \u2013 it\u2019s one of desire. Or, to phrase it more on their terms, unquenchable horniness.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
<\/a><\/a>Michael Caton-Jones\u2019s comedy, based on Alan Warner\u2019s novel\u00a0The Sopranos\u00a0<\/em>(unrelated to a certain mob show), is endearing in the way it frames youthful sexual discovery as an age-old tradition. It\u2019s a riot of a film, relatable both to those who may share in the experience of growing up in rural Scotland and to those who just remember fondly what it\u2019s like to feel such wild abandon. These teenage girls, all students at a Catholic school in the\u00a0Scottish<\/a>\u00a0coastal town of Fort William in 1996, have a near-myopic focus on sex. Every conversation drifts into innuendo. Every man is sized up as a potential conquest.<\/p>\n\n\n\n And when they\u2019re shuttled off to Edinburgh by their teacher, Sister Condron (a brilliantly funny Kate Dickie), for a choir competition, they use their precious few hours of freedom to run riot. The characters here feel truthful largely because the cast are so willing to channel the ecstatic social dynamics of teen girls who still view the adult world as something new and exotic \u2013 though that unrestrained giddiness might read like a human tornado to outside observers. It\u2019s a state amplified by the relative naivete they all possess as teens living during a time \u201cbefore mobile phones and social media changed everything forever\u201d.<\/p>\n\n\n\n It\u2019d be all too easy for a film like\u00a0Our Ladies<\/em>, especially one written and directed by men (Caton-Jones collaborated with Alan Sharp on its script) to chastise its characters for rushing into potentially dangerous situations \u2013 the girls think nothing, for example, of accepting an invitation back to the flat of two explicitly creepy men. Or even if the film were too smart for victim-blaming, it might have twisted those scenes into tragic invocations of the dangers women face on a daily basis. But the pleasure of\u00a0Our Ladies<\/em>lies in the fantasy. Its purpose is not to reflect harsh reality but to see things purely through the eyes of its protagonists, who are all young enough to still view themselves as undefeatable and indestructible.<\/p>\n\n\n\n And Caton-Jones certainly doesn\u2019t mistake that wilfulness for pure naivety. The girls of\u00a0Our Ladies<\/em>\u00a0still recognise the limits of their own youthful opportunity \u2013 that as working-class women living in rural Scotland, they\u2019ll spend a lifetime being underestimated and undervalued by those around them. They hold a simmering resentment towards Kay (Eve Austin), the doctor\u2019s daughter whose path leads straight to university. And there\u2019s a telling way that Orla, who\u2019s in remission from leukaemia, shrugs off all suggestion that her \u201cmiracle trip\u201d to Lourdes has made her some kind of favoured soul. But what\u2019s ultimately so joyous about\u00a0Our Ladies\u00a0<\/em>is all the small ways they rebel against their circumstances \u2013 while the world wants them to focus on the destination of their lives, they\u2019ve chosen to revel in the journey.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Clarisse Loughrey The Independent<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n The Sopranos is not the only Alan Warner film to have been adapted for the screen, in 2004 his brilliantly compelling, enigmatic and elusive debut novel Morvern Callar was adapted by Scottish auteur Lynne Ramsay. \u00a0With her auspicious debut “Ratcatcher”, Ramsay demonstrated that she thrived on atmosphere,\u00a0favouring\u00a0a hauntingly sensual visual style over dialogue and an over-explained plot.\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n The film opens with\u00a0Morvern, bathed in the intermittent glow of her Christmas tree lights, sensually caressing the body of her boyfriend, who has committed suicide on the kitchen floor. His presents for her are still wrapped and under the tree. On his computer he has left a suicide note (“It just seemed like the right thing to do”), instructions on how to withdraw money from his account, and the manuscript of a novel that he wants her to submit to a list of publishers.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Numbed by his death, she pretends that he’s left town. Then she decides to pass his unpublished novel off as her own.\u00a0\u00a0Not so much a discredit to her boyfriend but her ticket to a new life,\u00a0Morvern\u00a0uses the money from his bank account to take herself, and her best friend\u00a0Lanna, to Spain. But while\u00a0Lanna\u00a0opts for partying,\u00a0Morvern\u00a0retreats from the tourist areas and negotiates a book deal that enables her to escape her former life.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Samantha Morton’s ethereal looks make her a perfect canvas for Ramsay, but there’s an enigmatic energy behind her wide-eyed expression that’s intriguing way beyond the end of the film. <\/p>\n\n\n\n This film is available to see on Amazon Prime Video for \u00a33.94.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Cheltenham Film Society’s new season launches on Tuesday 13 September, opening with the rambunctious comedy, Our Ladies. \u201cOur story is older than the glens and hills,\u201d teenage girl Orla (Tallulah Greive) recites in the opening moments of Our Ladies. She\u2019s dressed in fair-maiden white, her bare feet delicately balanced across the pebbles of a Highland loch […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":7,"featured_media":9763,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-9762","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/filmcheltenham.online\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9762","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/filmcheltenham.online\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/filmcheltenham.online\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/filmcheltenham.online\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/7"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/filmcheltenham.online\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=9762"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/filmcheltenham.online\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9762\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":9768,"href":"https:\/\/filmcheltenham.online\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9762\/revisions\/9768"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/filmcheltenham.online\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/9763"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/filmcheltenham.online\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=9762"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/filmcheltenham.online\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=9762"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/filmcheltenham.online\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=9762"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}Other Recommendations<\/h2>\n\n\n\n
Morvern Callar (2004) Dir: Lynne Ramsay<\/em><\/h3>\n\n\n\n
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