Weapons-grade prettiness, a few cute visual gags and a briefly brilliant train sequence can’t mitigate how insufferably smug this all is.

This review may contain spoilers. I can handle the truth.

Here we see the male chauvinist predator in his natural environment, the British establishment.

Chilly portrait of a mentally ill artist who revels in his own sickness, with his preferred enablers. Oddly hilarious, and always gorgeous, despite all these repugnant details. Like a beautiful silk gown with the pins left in the seams, or a delicious omelette spiked with toxic mushrooms.