Red Joan

Every plot point and every character insight gets delivered with the same manufactured smoothness; the movie is naggingly bland in the way one associates with "respectable" British cinema.

In technical terms, it's a proficiently made film by the evergreen Trevor Nunn -- or it would be if it were not so determined to embrace all the cliches of the moment, both about British spies and films for women.

This period drama is stuffy and slow, told in a clumsy way to justify Dench's casting and presence, and is still a waste of her time.

Although the story sounds fascinating - subterfuge! centrifuge! pinkos! - the film is cold fusion.

Red Joan stands for nothing, and it's all the duller for failing to find even the slightest spike in this tale of duplicity.

Dench, in her limited screen time, gives us tantalizing hints of who this weary-looking woman, slumped by the weight of secrets, might be.

For all the faults of editing and storytelling, Cookson still gives a striking performance.

Though the film tells an intriguing story, director Trevor Nunn's approach is bland while the movie's pace flirts with tedium throughout.

The result is a movie that might not ever be all that thrilling, but it is never anything other than watchable.

Young Joan, old Joan, Red Joan, blue Joan -- it's all the same here.