Cassandra's Dream

By Robbie Collin

CONFESSION time. I've never "got" Woody Allen.

Yes, Annie Hall is a decent romcom. And I can see where he's going with the Scarlet Johansson obsession. But all that angsty Jewish New Yorker stuff? Who the heck cares?

Latest offering from the specky cradle-snatcher is Cassandra's Dream. A film set in "England"— inverted commas all too necessary cos this makes Love Actually look like a gritty urban docu-drama.

Ewan McGregor and Colin Farrell are wheeler-dealer brothers who have bought a yacht called Cassandra's Dream.

Both are lumbered with massive debts, so they go to their loaded uncle Howard (Tom Wilkinson). He agrees to help, as long as they help him by bumping off a business rival.

The main nearly movie-killing problem is the jaw-droppingly bizarre performances by Ewan and Colin.

Starting with their accents—supposed to be a bit Cockney geezah—which are utter, steaming rubbish.

Ewan switches between Spinal Tap's David St Hubbins and Frank Spencer while Col goes for Walford via the Limpopo.

On the upside? The soundtrack by Philip Glass (who did the Eurostar ads' music). And the assassination scene, which is nicely handled in a Hitchcocky way.

Most telling moment is when Col reveals he named the yacht after a greyhound he gambled on.

So Cassandra's Dream is a dog. And ain't that the Babe Ruth.