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One of the best films I have seen, which considering its television origins is saying something. The acting is superb, the atmosphere so rich and distinctive you can smell and taste it, even if you were never in drab, old Moscow. Typical of Alan Bennett, the action is all compressed into small spaces and the dialogue is within the context of small surroundings, whether it be the physical confines of the flat, or changing rooms, or in the spiritual confines of gossip and ideology.

The times when the characters are out in the open are the times of liberation, and comparative quiet. It is then that the character of Moscow comes out, and this is all the more striking as the character is so strong, and yet is played by 2 pretenders: the cities of Dundee and Inverness. The theatre is played by the Caird Hall, Dundee, the slightly oddly designed long hall, described by Bob Hope as the first time he ever played a tunnel, and beautifully transformed into the utterly realistic central theatre of Cold War Moscow. There are also Russian performances by the Grammar School, Clydesdale Bank, and, most lovely, the MacManus Gallery, which plays the British Embassy. There are other scenes, which were filmed in Inverness, although I did once read that Helsinki may have been used for some long shots. Not being a real film buff, I wouldn't know.

The film isn't about spies, politics, wars, cold or otherwise, but about humanity, and what drives and excites us. It has humour, great sadness, and the most amazing sense of being both a delightful confection, and a most genuine and unselfconscious tale of reality.

An Englishman Abroad is, like The Third Man, one of those rarest of moments in cinema in which everything just drops into place, with all from the script to the direction and performances falling into the perfect hands. Coral Browne's recognition that her experiences during (and following) a theatrical tour of Russia, meeting Guy Burgess, were worth making a grand statement on life about was as inspired as the script she made of this. In a running time of just over an hour, exceptional performances by Browne herself and the late lamented Alan Bates, directed by none less than John Schlesinger, make a comprehensive statement about loyalty, betrayal, the cynicism and amorality of all governments across the political spectrum, and personal sacrifice in the cause of what one believes correct. And despite the bleakness with which the British government and establishment are duly portrayed, a wonderful contrast is drawn between truly British democratic values, as voiced by an old British bespoke shoemaker (and reminiscent of the civil service mandarin's words in the car at the end of the also brilliant A Very British Coup), and the foreigner-founded gentlemen's outfitter who merely apes Britishness by pandering to British aristocracy ("By Appointment to Her Majesty"). The cold war settings are very atmospheric, and Bate's role as a man who has sacrificed all the privilege he was born into for the sake of something he believed in paradoxically fits that British value too. His performance as a British establishment in-man of refined tastes, trying to stay sane in the utter impoverishment, loneliness and distrust of his new Soviet circumstance, is profoundly moving even without a hint of self pity or indulgence. And the scene where he, a gay and atheist, attends the Orthodox service for the profound aesthetic experience that it provides, represents - in Bates' peerless hands - an unforgettable portrayal of profound human emotion. Had Schlesinger and Browne padded this film out by a half to reach a respectable feature length, it might not be so obscure but known as one of the elite films of all time.