Not for the first time and almost certainly not the last I find that I have apparently been watching a different film to the majority of people who have posted comments here, all seemingly fully paid-up members of the Lindsay Anderson For President club. It's strange - to me at least - how the BFI seemingly is unable to function without a deity to worship and with Ken Loach on his last legs they'll be burning the midnight oil on Southbank and laying in a supply of white smoke. Anderson of course preceded Loach and that poseur who came up with a trilogy about Liverpool and then had the temerity to think he was up to rewriting Terence Rattigan's The Deep Blue Sea. So be it. This effort can't seem to decide if it's a poor man's I'm All Right, Jack or an up-market Hammer horror either way it's well worth missing.
Review of Britannia Hospital
