Marion (an enigmatic Gina McKee) has insisted on caring for him in the Brighton cottage where she and Tom live. In the 1990s segments, Patrick – Rupert Everett, his face lined and his eyes intense – has had a stroke and can barely speak.
The story shifts back and forth in time, with different actors playing younger and older versions of the characters, a choice that avoids the plagues of prosthetics and old-age makeup. The film is not an easy-to-love crowd pleaser, but a romance that is more about denial, self-delusion and deceit than about passion.
But Styles is far more convincing and has a much fuller, more grounded role in My Policeman. If you've even just heard about Don't Worry Darling – and how could you have escaped the sideshow, complete with spitgate? – you have reason to expect the worst. But the movie is also likely to be seen as the Harry Styles show, existing in the glittery fallout of his pop celebrity and his skirt-wearing teases around gender identity, not to mention the fuss about that other film he's in this season. It is a work of choreographed lyricism and shifting points of view that reflects the restraint of its period. There is the film that director Michael Grandage has put on screen, an exquisitely made and acted story of a 1950s forbidden love triangle, involving Tom, his wife, Marion, and his lover, Patrick. Like the optical illusion in which a vase can also look like two faces in profile, My Policeman arrives as two things at once.
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