A Canterbury Tale

This is probably a film that could only really have come from the minds of the endlessly inventive duo of Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger in that it is like no other that comes to mind. The very premise itself – a loose adaptation of a Chaucer tale set in Wartime England – is one that few filmmakers, contemporaneous or since, would dared have attempted. Whether the Archers are successful in pulling it off is another matter. A Canterbury Tale is full of some fine moments and captures the quintessence of what it meant to be British in 1945. Of course, that was another world, the survivors of which are beginning to slowly disappear, and it is one that will never be recaptured. In that respect there is a wistful quality about the film that maybe didn't exist upon its initial release. But while it reaches these highs, the slow pace and lack of plot left me feeling as if the writers were sometimes straying dangerously close to self-indulgence. There's nothing wrong with a slow pace but, when the story begins to meander and perhaps lose sight of its purpose or intentions (or, at least, appears to) then audience goodwill can suffer.

Overall, though, this is a film worth watching, even if only to get an understanding of what it meant to be British back then, and as a reminder of a way of life that is no more.