Miss Potter

Peter Rabbit, Jemima Puddleduck, Mrs Tiggy-Winkle and the rest of your favourite cuddlesome creatures were the invention of an unlikely perfectionist, who spent the greater part of her early life a prisoner of her class and casualty of her mother's snobbery. As a girl (Lucy Boynton), she was known as a storyteller. As a woman (Renee Zellweger), she rejected arranged suitors with alacrity, refusing to do the accepted thing and marry for social, or financial, advantage.

Beatrix Potter was a beautiful illustrator. For someone whose schooling was home grown with a governess - in those days proper young ladies were not supposed to be educated - she was self-taught in artistic appreciation, although her some-sort-of-banker father (Bill Paterson) showed promise with a brush. For a Kensington gel, whose summer hols in the Lake District introduced her to the romance of nature and illusion of freedom, subsequent success as a children's writer must have come as a surprise to her family. It came as a shock to Mother (Barbara Flynn).

A Potter biopic does not leap off the screen with the intensity of The Brontes Meet Mary Shelley. Prolific writers lead ordinary lives on the whole and hers was no exception. When the first man, who wasn't forced upon her because of so-called good breeding, enters the rarefied atmosphere of her privileged and protected life, she falls madly in love with him.

Other than a universal appreciation of the stories, this is an odd choice for a feature film. There have been social satires, costume dramas and dalliances of every description, set at the turn of the last century, but what distinguished them as a whole was wit and style. Miss Potter appears to tread a middle path between good taste and repressed emotion, manners being the barrier to straight talking. Even at the age of 32, Beatrix is required to take a chaperone along whenever she meets Norman Warne (Ewan McGregor), the newest and youngest member of her publishing house.

Some might consider the casting of an American in the central role as sacrilege, and the occasional private moment, when Beatrix's drawings become animated, as Disneyfication of the worst order, need not be unduly alarmed. Zellweger purses her lips, rouges her cheeks and tries to look as plain as possible. She has no difficulty with the accent. After all, she did a splendid job with Bridget Jones and, despite going completely over the top in Cold Mountain, for which she won an Oscar (boo! hiss!), she is an actor of considerable subtlety.

McGregor is not exactly light relief, but excellent company nevertheless. Hiding behind a Kitchener 'tache, his natural charm and positive energy seem irrepressible. The other good thing happening amongst the supporting players is Emily Watson, as Norman's emancipated sister. As for Paterson's sideburns, they should be shorn with sheep shears and tossed into the dressing up box until snuff and whist come back into fashion.