If all else fails, get old people to swear. The odd F-word in the mouth of a pensioner is always good for a giggle. Up the stakes to the dreaded c-word uttered by an actress who is a national treasure, and you may well have struck comedy gold. At least that’s what writer-director Jeremy Brock is hoping for, as Julie Walters in her opening scene lets loose a stream of foul language that would make Quentin Tarantino’s ears burn.
Walters dominates Driving Lessons to such an extent that the film dries up when she’s not on screen. She’s a force of nature whose deft handling of Evie’s comic eccentricities and emotional wounds raises her far above her co-stars. But Evie is a character in search of a film that’s strong enough to contain her — and sadly this isn’t it.
Ben is obviously Brock’s alter-ego (the director spent a teenage summer in the company of Dame Peggy Ashcroft) so we’re not supposed to argue when we’re told that he has the soul of a poet. The fact that Ben’s verse is pretty much of the same standard as any adolescent undergoing a coming-of-age experience suggests that a bit more objectivity on Brock’s part would have served his film better.