In the opening sequence, a dashing father charms his family with the simple act of shaving off his mustache. This 1930's Irish Liverpool family will find moments of such blissful contentment a monumental task as England falls into a depression. Money evaporates, fueling heated tempers and the ugly unforgiving finger of blame.

Sit back and view this sparkling cinematic experience through the eyes of seven year old Liam Sullivan. Caring attention to the details of childhood import and the expert cinematography and art direction give "Liam" the warmth of a coal burning stove on a hardwood kitchen floor on a brisk British evening.

The story weaves well, sharing tales of the daughter's work experience for rich Jewish family, Liam's eye-popping fire & brimstone Catholic education, Mom's struggles to keep the family afloat, and dad's trials with unemployment, pride, and bigotry for the Jews.

Though the threads seem to weave skillfully, the resulting tapestry is coarse, abrasively contrasting the comfort of the picture on the screen. In fact, I struggled to understand the point of the tale at all. Perhaps to make a statement about the dangers of pride and prejudice, perhaps a historic pre-WWII narrative. In any event, the film ends abruptly with a dissonant note of irony, belying the comfort and resolution that audiences may be expecting.

(Btw, excellent production stills)