Well, easily the worst film I've seen this year, but then I suppose it's only March. Not at all sure what they were trying to do with this - given that it's the story of a Barbara Cartland style writer of romantic novels, perhaps they felt compelled to address it in the same overly melodramatic style. Frankly for about two hours I was fairly convinced that it must have been a dream sequence. I can't fault the performances, but the script was just so pedestrian they didn't have anywhere to go. The main character is imaginative to the extent that it actually becomes difficult to determine what she really believes, when she is consciously imagining and when she is simply deluded. It's never really resolved what the male lead's true feelings for her are, and the other characters are merely one-dimensional support.
Eminently missable.
Eminently missable.