The able-bodied performances of Alan Bates, Peter Finch, and Terence Stamp, and the crisp, bracing, atmospheric images of Nicolas Roeg do a gloriously good job of bringing the Thomas Hardy classic to life. They do a better job of it than, for example, the old MGM studio used to do. But as ever, the motivations for — and the results of — this sort of literary translation seem a bit stuffy and aloof. With Julie Christie; directed by John Schlesinger. (1967) — Duncan Shepherd
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