I just adore this film, starting with its title, Bright young things. An adaptation of Evelyn Waugh's novel, Vile Bodies, this film, in my humble opinion, surpasses its source in both aesthetics and emotion. It is so cleverly made, mixing modernist and postmodernist approaches to story-telling and aesthetic styles. One moment we have a pastiche of a 1950s sitcom narrative style, mixed with a 1930s decor, and the next we move to a highly realist depiction of the trenches. It takes its frivolity as seriously as its critique. Plus there is the added bonus of classic English wit, which should come as no surprise as the film is directed by the very witty and lovable Stephen Fry. The ending is so improbably and self-consciously romantic, the lead actor so fascinatingly sensitive and ironic, the colours both pretty and dark, what more can I ask for in a film?