Jack (Richard E. Grant) and Sarah (Imogen Stubbs) are a happily married couple – they are about to move into a large suburban house, and are expecting their first child, a daughter with whom they are so excited to spend their lives. However, when tragedy strikes, Jack loses his wife in childbirth, and has to take care of their daughter all by himself, raising her as a single father, or at least attempting to, as his parents (Judi Dench and David Swift) and the widowed mother of his late wife (Eileen Atkins) become overbearing, dubious towards Jack’s ability to raise a child. Jack, returning to his job after a period of grieving and paternal duties, enlists the help of a young American woman named Amy (Samantha Mathis) to serve as the nanny to his daughter, who has been named Sarah in honour of her deceased mother – and not only does she become the much-needed maternal figure in the life of the infant, she also manages to help Jack through the mourning stage showing him that life does go on, and even though it is difficult to lose someone, death of a loved one doesn’t mean we have to cease to live.

I love all kinds of films, across genres, conventions, nations and eras – but there are occasionally films that are so tailor-made to my tastes, I feel like they were aimed specifically at me. Jack & Sarah is one such film – as an ardent devotee to the brilliance of the sublime character actor Richard E. Grant, a romantic comedy with him as the lead was something I’d be foolish to ignore. Add in Sir Ian McKellen giving one of his most hilarious turns as the homeless man-turned-housekeeper, and Dame Judi Dench and Dame Eileen Atkins at their most sardonically bitter, as well as an abundance of 1990s romantic comedy cliche, and you have a film that fits right into my wheelhouse. Even putting my own biases aside for just a moment (because even though these were the elements that drew me to seek out the film, they weren’t solely complicit in my enjoyment of it), Jack & Sarah is an unabashedly great film, one that is so charming and filled to the brim with undeniable warmth. It certainly isn’t a perfect film – and it never strays from the well-taut path of the archetypal romantic comedy from the period, but it does have an allure that elevates it to the status of being a misunderstood film, something that is tragically underseen, because while it isn’t particularly groundbreaking and does feature the same conventions, it does so with great vigour, good humour and a considerable amount of heart and soul – and it believes itself to be so endearing and wonderful, it turns out to be true. Jack & Sarah is a true delight.

I’ve always admired Richard E. Grant, whether it be in his star-making performance as one half of the titular duo in Withnail & I, to his extraordinary leading role in How to Get Ahead in Advertising, to a long career of memorable supporting roles in a range of films, from blockbuster multiplexes to the auteur-driven arthouse. Jack & Sarah was made in a time when there was a concerted effort to depict Grant as a dashing leading man – and while he certainly does have the talents, he would quickly find himself making a niche for himself as the memorable supporting presence (often in the capacity of villainy) – and while I adore Grant in anything, Jack & Sarah was a film that really took me by surprise in terms of his performance – his portrayal of the titular Jack is something almost unbelievably great. His ability to navigate the tricky complexities of the character was inspiring, and the way every emotion at every moment seemed so authentic proves Grant’s mettle not only as a profoundly talented actor but as someone who can command a screen with what appears to be effortless ease. Perhaps it doesn’t have the iconoclastic value of Withnail, or the cult staying power as his iconic turn in Spice World, but it is a great showcase for Grant and his prowess as a leading man – whether the moment required him to be internal and introspective, or external and exuberant, Grant rose to the occasion and delivered a knockout performance. If only this film was more widely-seen, I have no doubt this would be considered one of Grant’s finest performances to date.

The supporting cast of Jack & Sarah is equally as delightful as Grant’s central performance. Samantha Mathis, as the closest this film has to a co-lead, is very good as the young American waitress coerced into taking the job as the nanny (but in actuality the surrogate mother) to Grant’s newborn child. At first Mathis seems to be struggling to adjust to the tone and pace of the film – she is, after all, the only American in a very witty, fast-paced British comedy, appearing alongside established thespians of stage and screen, so naturally, the flaws would be evident at first. However, as the film progressed, so did Mathis’ performance, and she was truly lovely. Ian McKellen, who simply can do no wrong, is terrific as William (or “Bill” as the crude Amy tends to call him), who transitions from an oddly-dignified homeless man to a rather belligerent housekeeper, whose priorities tend to be neatness and order (especially odd considering only a few months prior he had been living in a dumpster). McKellen is clearly having fun with the role, and while he does lack his own arc (a shame, as the character really was tremendous), it is an enjoyable performance from an actor who is effortlessly brilliant in nearly every film he appears in. Judi Dench unsurprisingly gives a terrific performance as Grant’s cynical mother, whose preoccupation with elegance and high society credibility often clouds her judgement towards others. Jack & Sarah was made before the late-career breakthroughs McKellen and Dench had, which would establish them as two of the most beloved performers of their generation, bona fide national treasures, so their smaller roles in this film can’t be considered too much of an anomaly, but they do still manage to give reliably great performances, which is only testament to their brilliance. Finally, Eileen Atkins is remarkable, and while she is mainly relegated to the background for most of the film, towards the end, she has a scene that is almost breathtakingly beautiful, every moment of tension and stress building up to a moment of pure catharsis. Jack & Sarah has an extraordinary cast, composed of veterans and newcomers, and it is still quite puzzling how this film, which is composed to some true acting royalty, has remained under-recognized and not nearly as widely seen as it should be. However, we digress.

Jack & Sarah is a film that may be considered slightly ahead of its time, but not entirely so. In many ways, the film is a repurposed, more emotionally-charged version of the Michael Keaton vehicle from a decade before, Mr Mom, which dealt with similar themes of a man having to put his career aside to prioritize being a father, taking on the roles normally expected of mothers – and while Jack & Sarah is certainly a product of its time with how it does portray the social structure, it does take the opportunity to comment on these flaws. There are sporadic moments of the significant progress that may not take aim at the broader social institution but points out the smaller hypocrisies. Jack & Sarah is, more than anything else, beautiful ode to fatherhood and to the experience of being a parent in general – and in all honesty, this is one of the most wholesome films I’ve seen in a long time. It is so pure, and it means so well, it often threatened to provoke tears – the interactions between Jack and his newborn daughter are the perfect blend of heartwarming and melancholy, hilarious and heartfelt. This is not a film that necessarily attempts to change the perceptions of parenting – and it doesn’t seem to want to, realizing how it is quite out of its scope – but it does depict the very real and extremely poignant bond that exists between fathers and their children, something that isn’t necessarily wholly absent from contemporary cinema, but unfortunately still too often relegated to an afterthought through the structural conventions of the familial dynamic. I assure you, this all makes sense in context.

As mentioned above, Jack & Sarah is a product of its time, and that is both a glowing merit and an unfortunate shortcoming. The 1990s were amongst the best eras for the romantic comedy, because nearly everything produced in the genre during that period was filled to the brim with glee and optimism, being warm and endearing to a fault – and growing up with these kinds of films, I always return to them for the sense of comforting familiarity that has unfortunately disappeared in the modern constituents of the genre, and there is only one very odd reason to blame for the decline in mindless warmth: these kinds of films are becoming far too original. As odd as that sounds (especially considering it looks like a criticism), its obvious how romantic comedies are starting to subvert expectations, turn conventions around and attempt to imbue themselves with innovation and endless originality – it certainly does work well (especially considering how socially-conscious film is becoming, and rightly so), but that doesn’t mean a film like Jack & Sarah should be dismissed – it is true that it does hit the same familiar beats as other films of the genre, being almost entirely predictable, as well as having the expected third-act lull-conflict-resolution. There are also several plot holes – characters that appear at the beginning just disappear, gaudy time-jumps and even some elements of the story that just don’t make much sense and seem to just exist as an easy path out of various narrative inconsistencies. Yet, this is hardly noticeable, and the film fully compensates with its abundance of heart, which allows us to escape into this captivating little film.

Jack & Sarah deserves a wider audience for various reasons. The main one is that this is a beautifully meaningful film, being a wonderful love letter not only to fathers but to anyone who has had a hand in raising a child, helping them enter the world and become unique individuals, allowing them to grow from innocence to experience. The film as a whole is really a treat – from the terrific performances by Richard E. Grant, Ian McKellen and Judi Dench, to the warmhearted execution of this story, which always chose the path of optimism as opposed to that of realism (entirely forgivable considering how heartwarming this film is), and while it does often fall into the clutches of predictability, it is still an endlessly charming film, a well-acted, hilarious and heartfelt comedy that never takes itself too seriously, but does make profound and poignant statements, perhaps not on society as a whole, but on the concept of the individual and their own journey. One never stops learning, and whether we gain experience through good fortune or heartbreaking tragedy, there is always something for us to learn. I urge everyone to seek this film out – it is a real gem, a comforting and warm film that is tenacious in its intention to quite simply just provide the audience with a moment of unhinged joy, and it does so well enough for us to feel gleeful long after the film has ended. A tremendously heartful and extraordinarily special work.