This one has all the ingredients for a stinker. That theatrical backdrop luvvie directors take terribly seriously, darling; a debut lead role for Sarah Brightman, bringing to the screen all those years of thespian experience she gained in Hot Gossip; and the presence of Richard E. Grant, patron saint of rubbish British cinema ever since his agent received the cheque for "Spiceworld" way back when. The result is actually so bad it's, well... kind of enjoyable... Menaul at least respects the music - it's two hours long, because we get the same arias belted out over and over again - even if it's no surprise that the show, after some kerfuffle, does eventually go on. Daft and dotty in the manner of many theatre people, yet equally hard to dislike, go on it does, proceeding with the credulousness of the estate's gardener ("Amazing, these opera people - they feel so deeply") through another coy post-"Mamma Mia!" strand of sexual realisation, and scenes of Grant singing opera and engaging Brightman in sex talk: "Have you ever f**ked someone who's fat?"