Many parents of teenagers might gladly be willing to trade places, or at least trade teenagers, with the parents herein. The comic euphemism for the real, recognizable fact of life -- quite a nice change from the comic vulgarism so prevalent on the screen -- is the essence of the movie's style, and the euphemism is oftentimes so thick, and the effect so cheerful and wholesome, as to suggest a kinship with TV sitcoms. Any such family tie is cleanly severed, however, as a result of Gregory's Girl not setting sights solely (or ever, really) on the Himalayan-sized laugh, nor taking the shortest, straightest path to its attainment. What it attempts to do instead is to build up, through no single gag but through a gradual accumulation of them, a confidence in the filmmaker's judgment, a deepening spirit of goodwill, a kind of balmy atmosphere in which the fixed smile might eventually bubble over into a full case of the giggles. It succeeds in this very well, and the deceptive modesty of the goal ought not diminish the skill involved, and particularly not the difficulty of keeping always close, but never too close for comfort, to the realities of life. Made in Scotland (the musical lilt with which all the characters talk can scarcely be seen as integral to the movie's artistic merit, but qualifies nonetheless as a bonus charm impossible to discount); written and directed by Bill Forsyth. (1982) — Duncan Shepherd
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